I realize this is a painfully first-world, middle class problem. But bear with me.
When I switched over from free-lance theater teaching and waiting tables to a full time arts administration job, I had no idea that this switch would necessitate a completely different creative hobby. Apparently, working as an administrator in a creative industry just means that you have to get creative about being creative, because the creativity that you’re actually getting paid for will stop being enough to satisfy your creative needs.
You get the picture. I needed a project.
One of my friends suggested that I write a cookbook. I thought she was crazy. Chefs, celebrities, and winners of insanely popular baking competitions in Britain write cookbooks. American amateurs—even crazy obsessives who love to cook and nerd out about all the technical details--do not.
Another friend suggested that I write a blog. I thought that was even more ridiculous. Ten years ago, starting a cooking blog would have been cutting edge. Today, it’s just . . . hackneyed. Everyone has a blog. What could I possibly have to say that would be any different?
Both suggestions were silly. I was being silly. I decided to forget about starting a creative project and set reading list and journaling goals instead. It didn’t work. I was bored. I needed something to do, something to active work at, something to create. I needed a project.
After six months of arguing with myself and vowing that I would NOT become the next Julie Powell, I decided to go for it anyway. I was already spending my evenings surfing pintrest recipes. I might as well put all that research and recipe pondering to good use.
I would write a cookbook complete with recipes that I adapted and tested myself, and document the process (and the recipes!) in a blog.
So I launched Project Cookbook.
Originally posted June 2, 2020.
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