In the course of one’s lifetime it becomes highly evident that some acts are committed more often than others. My personal course of action originated from a physical need to eat (and subsequently to cook, photograph, compare, and discuss). I cannot conceive to commit every morsel to memory, but will likely highlight those bits that are a little more palatable, colorful, or just humorously unsuccessful.
An Edible History of Humanity has been on my lap for a few days as I attempt to sort my own anecdotal approach to a subject and medium broached by so many others. The book will probably bring little or no surprises to informed eaters, but I still find its superficiality refreshing. I vaguely recall seeing Antoine-Augustin Parmentier’s statue in the Paris Metro, and now An Edible History has shed some light onto his promotion of the formerly “poisonous” tuber, potatoes. While my culinary history ranks nowhere near the grandiose tales of empires, conquistadores, and emperors, luckily, I am simply trying to wrangle out of my own feeble existence a prosaic approach to crafting an edible narrative, rather than lavish tales of war and glory.
While this blog is not a literary endeavor by any means, I hope it will aid in breaking down the massive walls I’ve built of writer’s block. I’ll most often offer an assortment of recipes and photos in lieu of literary poise, as I find it easier to improve images rather than words.
About me: I’m in my fifth year of vegetarianism, three of them spent in the lovely city of San Francisco. Before I moved to San Fran, I thought everyone here was vegetarian. This is not true. Lucky for San Francisco, I did not move here to live with a city full of vegetarians.