Baking is something I've always enjoyed. Starting at age ten I would just start baking. Somehow my mother had no problem with that... Anyway, I didn't burn the house down or anything so it turns out she was right. Hear that Universe, she was RIGHT! (I need some karma points. But I really mean it. Really.) I kept baking when I got my own apartment. I didn't do too much scratch baking in college- I made a lot of muffins from a box. But I baked nevertheless.
When I started Weight Watchers AGES ago (I'm so tired of it) I started cooking for myself. I really couldn't tell you what I ate before WW. I made a lot of stuff from total scratch. And loved it. It would take me hours to make something that now takes me no time at all, even if it's a new recipe. It was learning the quick ways to chop vegetables and fruit that made it easier for me. And now that I've been doing it for so long has made it easier for me to know what goes well with what. So I'm turning into quite the connoisseur of herbs paired with meat.
I'm always looking for new stuff to try so when my friend Teresa started her food blog I kept my eye out. I stopped cooking frequently for a while but recently I relish the time to make a real dinner and I've been on her blog almost every day. It helps that she posts every day. She puts her attempts at making recipes she finds all over the place. I made her peanut butter-chocolate chip-oatmeal cookies and they were AWESOOOOOME! And tonight I made the kale/chicken hand pies she adapted from Martha Stewart. I haven't eaten them yet but let's just see how they look:
Hers looked less like diseased balls of dough and more like this. What is the matter with my cooking? I mean it was really nummers and I would make it again (only remembering to chop the kale up more) but why can't my food be pretty too?