I first began reading cookbooks last Christmas when my parents gave me the culinary Bible--a collection of recipes and teachings by my God, Martha Stewart. I immediately immersed myself in page after page of recipes, tips and tools and thus began my love affair with cookbooks. I would stay up until one, often times two in the morning, flipping through hundreds of pages and photographs, concocting a list of every recipe I wanted to try and every kitchen gadget I had to have. I didn't really need a fluted tart pan, but boy did I want one.
Around that same time, in between recipe browsing, I found myself in a predicament common to many recent college graduates. Like so many before me, I was ready to break out and tackle the world. Unfortunately, I hadn't the slightest clue what I wanted to do. I knew I had a clear passion for food and cooking, so I began some much needed self-reflection and continued to seek guidance from the culinary gods.
More than ever, I found a heightened level of enjoyment, comfort and reassurance in reading cookbooks. I cooked and read constantly, all the while, learning as much as I could about food. My love for cookbooks sparked an interest in food magazines, which in turn led me to venture out into the blogosphere. It was there that I began toying with the idea of writing. I began gathering recipes, jotting down my favorite stories and finally published my own food blog. Much to my surprise, it all came quite naturally to me. Writing about food, family and my favorite recipes provided the opportunity to pursue my passion and be creative. And it all began with a cookbook.