mise en place

I’ve thought about doing this for such a long time that now that I finally have, it’s hard to know where to begin. Throughout the planning process, I knew what I wanted this site to look like. I kind of just jumped right to the middle and didn’t think too much about what the first post would be, but here we are. We have to start somewhere.

Like most writers, I’m used to finding myself stuck some place or another—not so often at the beginning, which is where I like best to be. When I do, I have a few little tricks for giving myself a kickstart. The most reliable one is making a list or a more loosely associated set of notes, sometimes including scraps of sentences, because I can more easily visualize the whole piece—whatever it is—in a general sense, and may be able to see a few parts of it quite clearly while the rest is a bit blurry. In a sense, this is what I sometimes do with cooking, too. I create a mise en place. When everything is laid out for me, chopped and sorted into bowls and measuring cups, I can dive in. (Though I do this far less often than might be considered advisable. I’m too impatient to do the prep work, often to the detriment of my blood pressure when something is sizzling way too quickly and I need to add the next ingredient.)

It never really occurred to me before but cooking is a lot like writing: creating something out of nothing. Sometimes with mixed results. The difference with cooking is there’s usually (with me anyway) a clear set of instructions to follow and a predictable result. I always know where to start. In this case, I want to start by explaining exactly what this is about—what you’re in for, if you’ve made it this far.

This is another food blog (not that there was any shortage of them) and at the risk of contributing to an altogether saturated market, it’s quite simply just a platform for me to write about the one thing that occupies my mind more often than almost anything else: food. Cooking and baking, specifically, but food-related things in general may crop up from time to time. The thing is—and let me be perfectly clear on this—I am not a cook in the sense of someone who is testing and writing recipes. I’m a writer who loves to cook and eat. I think a lot about food, not just in the sense of a glutton who eats a lot (though I am and I do), but as a part of our lives and our culture, as a means of expression or a coping mechanism (the latter more often than not)—really, as an addiction. I’m addicted to food. I’m addicted to cooking. Like most addictions it’s expensive and time-consuming, and arguably, depending on the meal in question, unhealthy. But there are worse things. For the amount of time I spend reflecting on food and cooking and the relationship of food to all other aspects of my life, my history and my future, my relationship(s), my career (not food-related at all), I figured…I might as well do with it what I do with everything else: write about it. For whomever wishes to read it, here it is.

A word on my “name”: writedible is a layered construct, drawn from the two things with which I am chiefly concerned: writing and eating, or edibility. If you look at it one way, you might get “write-able”. If you pull it apart, you get the end of a phrase connected to Emily Dickinson in reference to her views on the Eucharist. “Writ” in its simplest sense denotes written matter; easy enough. “Edible” is obvious. This is a blog about eating and writing. There you have it.

So, welcome. I don’t promise to post every day. I don’t even promise to post every week. But I probably will. I’m here, cooking, drinking, and eating. And when it’s right, I’ll be writing about it, too.


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