When I started this blog a little over 6 months ago, I was excited to write about food in the context of family life. I’ve been an avid cook for years, and in learning to cook, I amassed a solid collection of cookbooks– several hundred in total. I’m a nerd like that. I love nothing more than to hole up with a good book, and could in fact spend decades in a remote cave doing just that. As long as that cave came with nice wine and some fancy French cheeses.
When we moved to our NYC apartment in May 2005, one of the first things I did was have our contractor build a gigantic bookcase so that I could collect to my heart’s content.
I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that the lower two shelves and part of the third are all cookbooks. It’s an illness really, and I’m aware of it. I do want to clarify, however, that most of the books were bought before I had kids. Because these days it’s hard to find the time to sit around with a mug of steaming hot cider in my lap, casually flipping through a pile of cookbooks. That’s what retirement is for. Cookbooks, and yoga. That’s the dream at least.
Lucky for me, even my kids are getting into books. Here’s Sam, learning about biology.
