A Blog About Food

I like food. A lot. I like food like a fat kid likes cake.


Oh, wait. I like cake.


So, let's try a classic SAT analogy.


Abby is to Tacos as Lion is to Zebra Meat.





(I dare you to watch this and then walk around NOT singing it for 2 weeks. Good luck.)


I often give the Food Network credit for my ability to create delicious, beautiful dishes (that I often take pictures of with my Droid. And yes, I'm about to share those pictures here.)

Asparagus and sweet pea pasta with crispy chicken and bacon-seared Brussels sprouts.

Every Sunday, my Dad and I put our heads together and strive to create a dish worthy of my Mom's approval. We peruse cook books, we talk about what we saw on the Food Network that week, and we discuss dishes we've been inspired to try or create. We drive gleefully to the grocery store, and though we try not to skip down the aisles, we often fail. We'll spend copious amounts of time choosing just the right ingredients--squeezing tomatoes, thumping melons, smelling herbs--until our cart is filled with our bounty. We delight again in each item purchased as we unload our grocery bags into the refrigerator. And then we tie our apron strings, bring out our chef knives, and get to work.

Grilled herb pork loin with roasted asparagus and garlic and herb new potatoes.

My husband often jokes that, on holidays, he's full before we sit down to dinner because either Dad or I are constantly searching him out, spoon in hand, "taste this gravy," "taste this sauce," "taste the turkey." My Dad and I are nothing if not passionate about food. We groan over perfectly seasoned potatoes, swoon over the smell of basil, and celebrate when we pair dinner with the perfect bottle of wine. (Seriously, nothing gets us going quite like the smell of fresh herbs. Except for a glass of exceptional wine.)

Salami and smoked gouda crostinis with peach bellinis.

Only recently have I started taking pictures of our Sunday creations. But it has become such a habit that, just this last weekend, as we sat down to dinner and I started plowing into my perfectly-prepared food, my Dad looked at me and asked, "Aren't you going to take a picture first?" He likes for me to post them to Facebook so he can go back and comment on the meal we put together.

Shepherd's Pie with Guinness Gravy and summer salad.

What it boils down to is this: we love food so much, we don't just like to eat it. We like to talk about it, dissect it down to its purest form, take pictures of it, and share it with our friends.


Also, don't think I missed the food cliche. It was done with purpose.