So I got an email from a fellow blogger tonight, asking me to submit four or so paragraphs on FoodBat and what kind of blog it is, and my history. I've come to realize that I really have no idea on either front anymore.
Foodbat doesn't really have a niche, unless "food I make that I bother to write about" is a niche, which it isn't. I like local food, but not to the point of spending lots of money for it. I shop at farmers markets because it's cheap, and the produce is fresh and far more interesting than what you would find elsewhere. It has nothing to do with any food-oriented political ideals, because honestly If think it's all kind of bullshit and I don't really care anymore. Is this blog about farmers market cooking? Well, no. I use lots of spices and flavor building blocks, and that often includes stuff that came from far away.
Writing down recipes is a pain in the ass, and not something I find fun especially since I so rarely use them myself. I understand writing Radish + salt + sugar + vinegar = pickle isn't super helpful to many people. (Which is probably why I tweet rather than post most of the time.)
I enjoy taking pictures, but can't be bothered in most cases while I'm cooking, and certainly not the elaborate setup that seems to be required for food blogs these days. (Seriously, its gotten to the point of where people seem to be photographers and food stylists over cooks). My food is delicious, but it doesn't always look that way.
Cooking is an act of meditation for me; reaching for a camera to document something is not. Because of this, I'm likely never to get read, which is a shame - although I honestly blame no one for not wanting to read my rambles.
So, basically, this is a food blog that isn't.
It's a little embarrassing - I post here because I like to post here, and put down recipes when I'm in the mood, but outside of that I don't really associate myself as being a food blogger. Technically I'm more of a food tweeter, but the word 'tweeter' sounds like a word you'd use to describe a meth user or something, so I don't use that term.
I live my thoughts publicly, and maybe that's the exhibitionist in me, but I function on the premise that the majority of whoever reads my thoughts and tweets and whatever doesn't really care, and therefore I don't either.
(Except my dad, who without fail mentions something I talk about in a post or tweet every time he calls to show how much he cares, even though he knows it's kind of awkward. Hi dad.)
As far as my history - It's been boiled down at this point to the cities I've lived, where I worked, where I went to school, etc etc etc. The sum of which, I've moved every few years to a different city starting around eighteen. Itchy feet syndrome. Oh, and that I moved from a place I loved to a place I don't and can't wait to get back there.
My story is more than this, to be sure, but it is not part of the story that I put forth publicly. I think there is plenty enough out there as it is.
Suffice to say - I have no idea what to tell this woman.