I owe my newly discovered enthusiasm for cooking in large part to Pinterest. And also to the fact that if I didn’t learn to cook by now, I’d go hungry or become morbidly obese from eating Wendy’s new pretzel bacon cheeseburgers every night.
Now that I’m on my own in the real world and my parents aren’t here to cook and clean and shop for groceries, I have come to the terrible conclusion that I must, at long last, learn to feed myself. This is something that most people figure out before the age of 23 and should actually be recommended, but I have scraped by on macaroni and cheese and Spaghetti-O’s. At this point, it’s been long enough. There’s only so much Ramen noodles and thin, watery sauce I can take.
So now that I’m in my new apartment, here goes nothing. Continue reading