the state of things on the boot

It hasn’t always been easy to find my blogger voice these four years that the boot has existed. I’ve gone through some blog metamorphoses (first it was just vignettes of life in Barletta, then I experimented with all kinds of topics and niches) but that’s also the beauty of having a blog and using it as your creative outlet - you can go wherever you feel guided to go in that moment.

And right now, I’m being guided toward my kitchen with a force like I’ve never felt before. I don’t know why I’m surprised by this, and more importantly, why I didn’t think of it earlier. Food. Food runs through my veins and always has. Just take a look at my culinary history: my dad is a chef, his mom was a butcher, my great-grandparents were greengrocers in the North End, my grandmothers were rarely seen without aprons, and my extended Italian-American family connects, thrives and lives for food-related events. Everyone in my family cooks. My mom has such ease with baking that she created a three-tier wedding cake for friends. Even my papa has his trademark dishes of icebox cake and stuffed mushrooms. 

I grew up in the kitchen. After school I would color while sitting on reach-in refrigerators and waiting for my dad to finish prepping soups or whatever he was “whipping up” for that evening’s dinner menu. Or maybe I would be at nana’s house, reading Roald Dahl on a wooden stool in the kitchen while she rolled meatball after meatball and pushed up her glasses a thousand times. These moments are burned in my memory and in my soul as if food were another family member, constantly there with me.

This summer I can’t tell you how many times Kate said, mid chew, “I think you should pursue a career in food.” Who knows if that’s just her motherly instinct trying to steer me in at least some clear direction (see this post) because what I’m doing now is anything but clear, but she put the idea in my head, and now I’m a woman on a mission.

I don’t want to become a chef (I mean, the phrase, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen” exists for a reason) but for the first time in probably ever, I have this crazy, wild, passionate desire to work with food. I want to become a better home cook, learn techniques, develop my own recipes, take better photos, learn how to style food and get elbow deep in flour on a daily basis. I want to shuck clams, roll out dough, crumble feta, dice an onion, stew a catfish, mash a potato, and I want to do it right here on the boot.

That being said, I hope you’ll all stick with me on this edible journey of mine. I’m sure Manu will be very happy about this turn of events and will be reaping the leftover benefits! (He just won’t be going near any peanut butter.) Thanks for listening, following along and being the most supportive group of people I’ve ever come into contact with!

P.S. It's fitting that this is my 500th post. Sometimes it takes 500 tries before you find the thing you love.