…a food blogger.
I know what you’re thinking, “but Lady Imp, you are all about being whatever you want to be! You don’t let anything get in the way of your desires and dreams!” Yeah, I don’t let anything come between me and a strawberry pie either, but that doesn’t mean I’m any good at making one. And whenever I make something that is actually edible bordering deliciousness, it always ends up looking like this:
Yes, this is what my homemade Hot Pockets looked like this morning.
Fortunately, I’m not a stickler for looks, and neither is Lord Imp. What’s important to us is that it doesn’t taste like it needs to be washed down with the horrid taste of a dark stout to get the comparatively poisonous taste of supper out of our mouths. And nine times out of ten, that mess coming out of my oven is pretty damn tasty.
Except I could never put a picture of it up on a blog. Unless I’m making fun of myself.
And then I go trolling All Day I Dream About Food and Maria Mind Body Health for recipes and I am instantly jelly. Look at those cakes! OMG, that lasagna looks perfect! And I set off on an endeavour to fix the perfect meal that looks like it came straight out of Leave it to Beaver. Two hours later, I look at the steaming pile of mess on my plate, silently sob for 15 seconds that it looks like a heap of dinosaur poop, and then grab a fork and dig in because let’s face it, I’m hungry and that dinosaur poop smells damn tasty.
I’m sure it doesn’t help that my view on recipes is somewhat akin to the Pirate’s Code:
Welcome to the Black Pearl
But I don’t think my dislike for following instructions really has anything to do with the fact that my cooking is less photogenic than me on a bad hair day. I like to believe that has more to do with the fact that I’m just not artistically inclined. We’ll forget that I have been known to sculpt dragons out of Sculpey clay for a minute here, and focus on the fact that my cooking never comes out looking the way it does in the pictures, or even remotely close to it. I just lack the knack to make anything look picture-perfect.
But sometimes, it’s just damn tasty. And in the end that’s all that really matters. Because while it looks like dinosaur poop on my plate before entering the abyss that is my digestive tract, it’s going to look like human poop when all is said and done.
And never ask for my recipes. I steal them from other sources. Do a Google search, you’ll be fine.