I might be a better eater than I am a cooker.
This might not seem like that great an admission but for me it is a nearly constant source of shame and frankly one of the motivations for embarking on this exercise in the first place. I'm a decent baker, I make a mean omelet and pancake brunch double-whammy, have bent the blender to my will in the service of nut-milks and hot sauce and I have practiced a few of my childhood staples enough to be able to rattle them off without too much flop sweating. I just can't claim much in the way of kitchen intuition.
My passion for food, insatiable appetite for recipes and terminology, and the chunk of encephalon dedicated to cataloguing and cross-referencing eateries attests to my gastronomic commitment, but I need practice. As much as I probably wouldn't mind eating cheese samples three meals a day, I want to be more than the master of the cutting-board dinner. I want to reign over my kitchen without needing gimlets to bolster my spirits. I want to have all the burners and the oven going without descending into tight-lipped anxiety because my sides are congealing and fading while my mains sullenly refuse to seize their potential. I want to enhance food prep with conversation (perhaps even laughter) without risking catastrophe, and serve up heaping fragrant plates of deliciousness.
I want to be able to share my love of food with my friends.
While it might be awhile before I can invite anyone over for dinner without barricading myself in the kitchen and entertaining guests with a symphony of bitter oaths and clanging pans, in the meantime I can build towards that glorious day and still share all of my favorites (and my foibles) with you lot.
And so, while I do not profess any great culinary ingenuity as of yet, I set out with equal parts trepidation and temerity to humbly pay homage not only to fromage, but to all of the foodstuffs that have nurtured my gustatory curiosity into what now borders on a compulsion.
Roll on, wheels of gouda, as the great Earth rolls on!