Someone asked me when I was going to write a cookbook.
You've got to be kidding me. There are easier ways to make a living. In fact, I have nothing but sympathy for cookbook writers trying to make it in this world of Kindle, and Amazon and internet blogs. That's a tough gig. You put your heart and soul and years of work into a cookbook to have to go on publicity tours where you eat fast food and sleep in cheap motels and end up making about 25 cents out of every book sold.
That, ladies and gents, is a labor of love.
Besides, I'm not that great a cook. I'm more of a 'camp cook' rather than a chef. Give me a heart in deer camp and a bit of cast iron and I can turn it into a dinner you'll never forget. But I don't know how to 'plate' things. And actually, I don't care that I don't know how to 'plate' things. What I'm doing is spending a bit of my time doing something I enjoy, learning how the plants work and getting to know them on a more personal basis.
I'm a great forager. I know what to look for and when to look for it, can ID most trees just by their bark, know what stage to harvest the plant in, know what is good and what not to bother with. All those years of school and research and work make me great in the field. Dr. Oliver would be proud. But using the bounty and using it so that the tastes and textures compliment each other and having each dish a joy to eat? That's what I'm working on.
I don't mind spending the time. Goodness knows, I've got it right now. Some days move like molasses poured over snow around here.
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