After several dispiriting tries to find an available URL for this blog and without much deliberation, "intrepid cooker" is what stuck. I'll have to sit with that one for a while. The "cooker" part was intentional, though. I cooked professionally for many years, always out of boundless passion for cooking rather that any particular career advancement goal. I've never been comfortable calling myself a "chef" and don't especially like wearing whites, though I know many excellent chefs for whom the term is absolutely appropriate.
As a mother, food writer, culinary teacher, and cook, cooking is seamlessly integrated into my life. It is the focal point of much of my time with friends and family, the scenery and seasoning for many happy memories. For too many people, though, cooking is a source of anxiety; just one more way to feel inadequate about one more thing. The age of the celebrity chef has made good cooking seem just that much more unattainable for people with real lives, which pains me to the core. So, back to the name: How to reflect the pervasiveness of food both within my career and without? Several years ago my then-toddler explained to somebody that his Mommy was a "cooker", which captured it perfectly for me. A cooker. Nothing more, nothing less. I long to put it on a resume and have somebody say, "Aha!" with complete understanding.
The intrepid part could fit, and it'll do for now. As a reader of food blogs I realize that there are many inspired, adventurous home cooks out there and my idea of intrepid may pale in comparison. I absolutely promise not to let the two elementary-aged palates who sleep under my roof dampen my intrepidness...intrepidity...intrepiditousness?