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Blame it on years in the service industry or my tendency to avoid things I’m not immediately good at, but I don’t cook. I know that’s probably not something you’d expect an editor at Food52 to admit, but I won’t lie to y’all. When it comes to dinner, I’m often at a restaurant, leaning on my friends who love cooking for others, or reheating a bowl of roasted vegetables over rice (sad, I know). While some find the act of cooking relaxing, rewarding, or fun, I find it stressful, irritating, and unappealing.
Let me be very clear though: I love food. I’m always thinking of my next meal, I love doing deep dives into different cuisines and flavor pairings, and searching for new dishes to try. I enjoy baking—something about following a recipe exactly, to an almost science, is fun for me—and I bartend on the weekends, so you can trust me with making a pie or stirring your cocktail. But if a pot roast needs to be braised, I am simply not the girl you want nearby (although you can count on me to sneak spoonfuls of whatever you’re making on the stove).
