Monday, 2 January 2012


 photo: Orangette

Let me begin this whole kit-and-caboodle by saying that I’m not a blogger.

It’s not that I don’t want to be ‘one who blogs’ – that would sound rich coming from someone who revels in reviews with their full-bodied descriptions, tenderly methodical recipes, and hazy tablescapes.

I just don’t want to be a ‘blogger’. You know the type. That friend who raises their eyebrows and gives you a pitying sideways look when you haven’t yet been to or, gasp, heard of the newest super-exclusive-underground-secret-one-night-only-pop-up-speakeasy in town. The couple in the corner of a storied gastropub taking so many photographs of their untouched plates that the chef has to come out after 10 minutes and ask if there is a problem with the food. (True story).

So consider this my statement of intent:

I will eat. I will drink. I will bake. I may photograph. (But not so long that my food gets cold). I will write. But I will not ‘blog’.

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