I love food. I love how a dish can be passed down generation to generation and one bite can represent hundreds of years of experience. I love the flavor of food, either good or bad. Good food can rescue a bad situation or define a good one, during a funeral or a first date. I love the preparation of food. You get to know people by the way they cook. A friend of mine throws ingredients together to see what happens, while I have to look at the recipe several times per step to make sure I'm doing it right.
I also know how to make things better (I'm not arrogant, I'm right), which prevents my girlfriend from cooking for me. Although I don't mind cooking most of the time, the few times she did cook ended up ended with a vow of never cooking again. Fortunately, she breaks that vow occasionally to make delicious snacks like French toast (I have learned to bite my tongue when I observe any... inadequacies). Don't get me wrong, I make culinary mistakes as well, and I enjoy compliments, but I'll be the first to tell you what went wrong and what I should do next time (more garlic!).
Some goals of mine include becoming a culinary journalist of some sort, being able to cook my family meals more often than not, and find the worlds greatest sandwich to bless our little planet. A big passion of mine is eating what tastes good. Food is my mistress, a forbidden love that has outlasted relationships, leases, and expiration dates.
Because of my love, I will tell of my culinary experiences from my perspective. Unfortunately, on a college salary, fine dining doesn't occur often. Even if I could afford it, there aren't many dine dining experiences I can partake in here in Central Wisconsin.
So join me, if you will, on my tale of romance between a skinny white boy and whatever delicious thing comes his way.