Curiousity Filled the Cat
Hey, pretty little eaters. I’m Cat. I started this blog because I spend 90% of my waking moments thinking about food, but I didn’t want “she was a lifetime subscriber to foodgawker” to be the only legacy that remained of me at the end of my life.
I’ve always dreamed of being a writer, but like most aspiring writers, I became a person with a different career altogether (social worker). Still, I was cruising happily along, armed with my subscription to the Buzzfeed food newsletter and a steady stream of income that I could devote almost entirely to groceries, when I realized: I want more. Specifically, I wanted to do something creative, involving writing and/or food.
Start a bakery? A snack box business? Purchase a food truck? Become a restaurant critic?
I mulled it over for a while (aka approximately five years), but took no action. The prospect of any of the above seemed so daunting! If I had a bakery, I’d have to wake up super early to bake. If I had a food truck, I couldn’t wear cute clothes, and I’d have to understand how to work a cash register. If I were a restaurant critic, I’d end up hurting people’s feelings. None of these ideas felt just right.
But then, suddenly, like an ever-so-slightly chubby version of Goldilocks and the Eleventy Billion Bears (also an apt title for my dating memoirs), I discovered my calling: food blogging. Whuuuut: you mean you could spend all your time (“outside of work, of course”) cooking, taking mediocre photos of food, writing, and best of all, EATING, and there’s a name for that other than what I already know to be “my life”? Who knew this existed?
Answer: everyone. There are actually like a thousand 12 year olds who have brilliant & successful food blogs already.
But I’m not gonna let that hold me back, y’all.
And I hope you are going to join me. And not just because I will feel kind of dejected if only my three sisters are reading this (Hi, sisters…). But because I have things to share.
Like, how to deal when your life motto is “I only eat delicious things” but your doctor then tells you that you have the blood profile of a “future diabetic.”
Or, how it took me like two decades to finally learn that “a box” of Bacon Dippers isn’t the suggested serving size.
And, how to make (sometimes healthier!) versions of your fave take-out dishes when you can’t access the real deal because you live in a town that only has like five restaurants (and eight of them are Something Something Gluten-Free Pizza Something. It’s a liberal arts college town).
I’m talking about life. About love. About friendship.
And most importantly, about how to make pretty much any kind of meat taste like candy.