My mom was the original gangster of crunchy health food.
Growing up, her idea of an after-school snack was organic fruit leather that was just a touch too leathery, various carob-covered nuts from the bulk bin, or a rice-based ice cream that tasted like lightly sweetened snow. Naturally, I spent most of my childhood rebelling against this menu, and going into full Fruit-by-the-Foot binge mode at friends’ houses.
It took me a few decades to get on board. But since you’re here, it’s safe to say that all those bowls of millet eventually caught up with me. And it’s my daily mission on this site to make them taste less like something that should be served to Oliver Twist.
Cooking was something that grew on me much sooner. I was so starved for creativity during my first job out of college that in 2008, I ended up starting a food blog on the side to feel some sort of purpose and re-find my sanity. That led to a cookbook deal, which gave me the confidence to leave said cushy corporate job at the height of the recession to launch a career in food.
In my early twenties, I hustled hard and took on pretty much any odd food job that involved buttercream and not my naked body. And it was all going pretty well until I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease: Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis.
Things changed after that. I spent most of my mid-twenties trying to get on board with the health hand I was dealt, and using my professional experience in the kitchen to attempt to heal my body with leafy greens.