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Ah hello there. So I’m starting a food blog, which makes me wince a little because … blog? Really? For one, the term makes me shudder. Blogs are soooo 2003. For two, there are already eleventy billion food blogs. Do I really think mine will be as good as Smitten Kitchen or The Pioneer Woman? Probably not.

But the part of the phrase “food blog” that excites me is “food.” I’m passionate about food. I love thinking about what flavors might go well together. I love planning what I’ll make for dinners this week — and what leftovers I can take for lunch. One of my favorite creative food exercises is thinking about what I can do to existing recipes to make them better, to make them my own. I have my own version of banana bread. I made up my own soup. Sure, it’s all been done before my someone, somewhere. And very likely that someone was more skilled and schooled than me. But I’m learning in the school of my own kitchen. Nothing like learning on the job, where I’m chef de cusine, pastry chef, president AND the CEO. Fortunately the only people who have to eat my mistakes are my husband and some poor, unsuspecting co-workers.

My promise to you is that I’ll be passionate if nothing else. It won’t be perfect. I will make mistakes. But you know what? Everyone makes mistakes in the kitchen. (Well, everyone makes mistakes in life, too. But that’s a whole different blog.) In my kitchen, we will recover from the mistakes together. I’ll tell you when I make them and how I fixed them. And if I couldn’t fix them? Well, I’ll tell you that too.

I suppose I could explain the title of this little bambina, er.. endeavor. Whenever we’d make my grandma, Mimi, coffee, she would say “P.I.S.S.” Now I know that looks bad. But she was one for shock value once in a while and she’d look at you sweetly with her head tilted and eyes sparkling and always — always, even after saying it for the thousandth time — follow it up with, “Put in some sugar.”

So while this isn’t a dessert blog and not everything will have literal sugar, it will have a little of me and I’m pretty sweet — when I’m not salty, of course. Think of the sugar as love. As I heard somewhere, your emotions can transfer to the food you make. Wasn’t that in a movie? The chef cried while she made a sauce and everyone who ate the sauce cried, too. I, however, will try not to flavor with sadness. But you know what I like to do when I’m sad or stressed? Bake. Making a batter, pouring it into a pan, using a spatula to make sure nothing is wasted, licking the spatula, sliding the pan into the oven, setting the timer. Waiting. Then pulling out something that — hopefully — is beautiful, steamy, crunch on the outside, soft and moist on the inside… Well, that’s just about heaven to me. I can’t wait to share it with you.

So welcome… mom. I’m sure if anyone is reading this, it’s probably you. And maybe Mary and Heather. Other than that? Well, we will see. I will try to make you proud.









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