Saturday, August 28, 2010
I wish I had more inspiration. I wish that instead of a feeling of helplessness when stumbling upon a new foodblog, I was sure of my own voice in this weird, interactive community. That I felt like I had a place, that what I did was - is - something unique. There are days when I do, and then there are days where I feel like it doesn't matter one bit, because how is what I do different from what all the others do? And if it isn't different, why bother?
I wish I didn't feel like I had to make an excuse everytime I actually do put up a post. I wish it didn't bother me so much to have to type out recipes. This is a food blog - it kind of goes with the concept. I wish I didn't feel like I'm sometimes holding on to something that's already dead.
But in my mind, I'm still writing up posts and I'm still taking pictures. Granted, there are a lot more baby photos taking up space on my memory card these days, but every now and again, there's also a photo of a roasting tray, full of the most amazing homegrown, differently colored tomatoes, ready for drying. Of perfect light green fresh lima beans, nestled in their cosy pods. Of a pretty cupcake and freshly baked bread.
And I think a lot about food. Still.
I'm afraid I sometimes kill my own posts before I start them, thinking: surely someone must have posted about this before. Then I go check my blog reader, and there they are. Three, four, five posts about the exact subject I was thinking about writing. Darn seasons. And that's only what's in my reader - I imagine there's a lot more out there I never hear or read about.
I wish I knew what it is that makes a good food blog. Actually, no. I wish I could stick to writing the things I think makes for good food blogging. Honest, enthusiastic stories, about food, revolving around food, stories that ends - or starts - with meals, or cakes, or disasters. Stories with humor. And actually, not necessarily stories that ends with recipes. I'll take passion, and warmth and personality over written instructions any day.
I wish I wasn't a follower. Sometimes, I wish I wasn't such a pleaser. Sometimes, I wish I followed my heart, and not my head so much. There are days when my self-editing makes me want to kick me in the butt.
I wish I had more cupcakes. Even though I'm not really sure I like cupcakes. But I make them, again and again, because they're pretty to look at. Because I can. And that's probably not the worst reason to bake. Or blog. Just because.
Vanilla cupcakes with rhubarb compote and cream cheese frosting
Recipe for cupcakes: via Cheryl - THE queen of cupcakes, in my opinion.
Rhubarb compote: cut rhubarb into 3 cm. bits, couple of spoonfuls of sugar poured over and mixed in, baked in a 180 degree Celsius oven for about half and hour. Leave to cool.
Cream cheese frosting: equal parts butter and Philadelphia (or other cream cheese) beaten together; lots and lots of icing sugar beaten in (roughly the same amount as the total amount of butter and Philadelphia)