I love to cook.
I’m a foodie. I can do something about my affliction. I can’t say the same for those of you who pine on Pinterest for brownies and holiday wreaths, yet can’t boil water or cross a stitch. It’s not always pretty when I get in the kitchen, though.
I’m this strange amalgamation of Emeril and Richard Lewis when I deal with measuring cups and skillets.
Like Emeril, I’m ambitious. (And I would love someday to have a chef shirt with a script E on it, because, of course.) I’m ready to battle with baby back ribs, take on tortilla soup or pound out some pumpkin pie.