Lately, very little has made me as happy as food, which, for most people who know me, might come as a surprise.
I’ve always loved to eat, but for most of my life, I was a terribly picky eater – as a baby, my mom used to hide meat inside tater tots to trick me into eating protein. Growing up, it was all chicken nuggets, all the time. I refused to eat pizza. Until I was about 10, I had to bring my own PB&Js to birthday parties.
It didn’t occur to me that vegetables could taste good until I took a high school trip to Israel, where I couldn’t afford anything but falafel and shawarma. Still, I stuck to what I knew. Every day I ate a plain ham and cheese for lunch. I had quite the sweet tooth, and I devoured bread and milk, but generally, I ate the same things every single day.
Then, the world caught up to me a bit; freshman year of college, I gained twenty-five pounds. It was time to start thinking a bit more about how I ate.
Since then, slowly but surely, I’ve expanded my culinary horizons and become a passionate foodie. A few experiences in particular helped propel me into this happier existence: great friends with adventurous palettes, a semester abroad in Copenhagen and Europe, working at a food magazine with some brilliant eaters, learning to cook for myself. Mainly, though, my food addiction multiplies; every time I eat something great, it raises the bar for everything I’ll eat in the future.
I don’t want to just eat; I want to thrive. I want every bite of every meal to be euphoric. And I want to share that euphoria with anyone I can.
So: I’m creating this blog, to trace and document my search for edible euphoria. I’ll be writing about my best meals out in Boston, jotting down a few stray ramblings about food, and occasionally posting my best recipes.
If you live in Boston, hit me up – let’s break bread.