In the beginning

It came to me in a flash of brilliance one glorious afternoon after week after frustrating week of turning over a slew of bad food puns. The name is honest and direct. It doesn’t tease and tantalize, beckon or play, but it is fitting. It captures the flavor of my life these past few years: dramatic, blunt and full on. I too am enamored by all things food. My formative years began in the sleepy suburbs of New York which is the setting for collision #1 and is responsible for many a thing, but most of all my great hunger for food. I later moved on to the San Francisco Bay Area (after a 5 year stint in Ithaca) which became my playground for the next 14 years. For anyone who knows the area, it is hard to imagine living there without becoming a skilled cook or at least an extremely opinionated taster. With Chez Panisse, Acme Bread, Cow Girl Creamery, Peet’s Coffee and the most exquisite produce lurking around every corner, an eater is armed and dangerous, or at the very least disturbingly discerning. I was one of those food obsessed people planning and strategizing my life around point A, point B, and point C (breakfast-lunch-dinner). Shuffling and tweaking every layer of my existence to reflect and highlight the themes established in the food du jour. I wish that I could say that this indulgent behavior is an exaggeration but only minimally so.

“But what does this have to do with foodchair?”

Currently I view life perched from a Permobil Entra motorized wheelchair. This change from walk to roll has changed many things in my life and one of them is my home. I now reside in a small New England town in New Hampshire. While this move has brought safety and comfort to my physical body with a family and home that are dear to me- the food culture is different as are the raw materials. For example it is usual for me to have a choice between about 3 bunches of wilted cilantro at the local supermarket (I ½ shutter as I type and I kid not). In addition, I now do life with an attendant or two or three (though, not at one time). This means explaining and translating sense and sensibility to another and hoping that I can still create a meal fit for a queen. Now I trust you can see my dilemma. Any food blog that I create now is going to reflect these aforementioned facts and not necessarily be the gustatory guggle of goodies from food past.

In spite of all the changes in my life, food is still the bread of my existence, the keystone to my arch, the feather in my cap. While what I am turning out in my kitchen has changed I hope that the spirit of it has not. I am sure that my blog will be a reflection of this sometimes uneasy interplay between food and all-that-comes with physical disability. I find this fascinating, sometimes depressing and occasionally even inspiring. I do hope that what I write is not so painfully honest as to be unappetizing. For starters, if visions of a portly chair upholstered with porterhouse steaks (well marbled) comes to mind- this is not the effect I was going for. I am discovering this new place in my life with a few well worn recipes in tow. I wish it to be nourishing and filled with enough whimsy to sparkle from time to time.