A Sort-Of-Venting-Post About Recipes on the Wild, Wild Web...

Confession time:  I am a mediocre cook at best.

Having said that, I will also profess that I actually LIKE cooking... when I'm not too pressed for time, and when I found a recipe that I think is worth trying.  I'm always excited to attempt the execution.  There's something really satisfying to me about fixing a meal that my family loves.  This may come as a surprise, because I'm really not a very traditional housewife in pretty much any other way.  I'm lousy at cleaning.  I've never attempted anything off Pinterest. I flat out hate crafting.

Since I've really begun cooking for myself, shortly after college (at which point I knew how to make three things: 1.  Kraft macaroni and cheese 2.  Tacos--with the aid of a pre-packaged kit and 3. Hamburger helper), the internet has been, almost exclusively, my resource for recipes.  I've noticed a trend though, in my searching for culinary greatness over the years, and I'm probably about to offend the entire food blogging world with this complaint.

So let me start by saying I'm sorry, and I get it.

BUT, here's my issue:  In the past couple years of googling, what I tend to get when I search for a particular dinner idea, usually googling "low-carb" (because, sigh, I love carbs but they don't love me) plus "easy" plus "whatever main ingredient I have on hand" is this:

A compilation of pages upon pages of blog entries every bit as long and longer than this one, with every blessed one of them interrupted by photos detailing any and all of the following:  Before shots of the ingredients.  Photos of crock pots, skillets, and blenders.  Photos of steps along the way (none of them actually showing you HOW to do something, mind you, just random shots of eggs in a pan or ingredients in a bowl).  Fourteen thousand pictures of the finished product.

Plus, a long-winded story of how the recipe came to be.  What sentimental value it has for the cook.  How the author's husband, children, third cousin, in-laws, and dog all love it.

And there, finally, at the bottom of the page?

All I was looking for.

The list of ingredients.

And step-by-step directions.

Sooo....

Like I said, I'm sorry, and I get it.  I'm long-winded and wordy myself.  Just ask my dissertation committee.  Or browse through old entries on this blog!

Food is life.  And life is writing, and trying to capture all those special moments.  Cooking and eating are some of our most sacred ways of connecting with each other.  And of course all these foodies should continue to blog and share their art.

I just have one teensy suggestion:

Put the recipe first!

I'm sorry, but Jenny the I-have-to-get-to-work-on-time-Mom who has to throw something in the crock pot before I get out the door doesn't appreciate reading the story of your life as it pertains to chicken and sausage as I try to beat the clock and the morning traffic.

I just want to know how to make the chicken and sausage.

Rant over.  And before every gourmet cook in the world attacks me, let me just say that I am mostly kidding.

(Except I'm kinda serious--because while it used to be one out of ten recipes that presented the information in this format, now it's like fifteen out of ten.  And by the time I scroll to the bottom to get to the actual recipe and realize I don't have all the ingredients, and then I have to go to another recipe in the same format, and go through the same cycle... that scrolling adds up!!)

So please, for the sake of busy moms--

At least put the ingredient list before the Days-Of-Your-Life text and photos?  I won't mind scrolling for the how-to part if I at least know I have what I need in the cabinets.

Heck, maybe I'll even read the blog.

:)

The Things We Wait For...

In May, my grandmother, Margaret Parker, turned 90.

Since finishing my doctoral studies, I've been making more of an effort to dedicate time to my creative writing.  As part of my focused writing time, I recently finished a draft of a short story, one that details the events of the evening we surprised Mommom for her 90th birthday.

Turns out--and I didn't know this when I decided we should throw her a surprise party--turns out she waited 90 years for a real birthday party.




Now before you get too upset at this injustice--make no mistake, my family celebrated Mommom's birthday every year.

But it was always a low-key, immediate family only, cake and ice cream routine.

Had I known Mommom had never had a real birthday party, I would have suggested to my mother that we throw her a big one years ago.

But I didn't know.  And so I found out that night, a couple days before her actual birthday, when she gave a speech thanking us all for coming, and noting that she'd never had a real birthday party.

I found myself tearing up during her speech, and now, coming back to that moment, I think about the other things we spend our lives waiting for, maybe without even realizing we're missing out.

Are you waiting to be celebrated?

To be loved and accepted for who you are?

To come to Jesus?

Are you waiting to forgive someone?  To exercise grace in your own life?

Maybe you're waiting for the next big thing around the corner, without stopping to be in this moment, to give thanks for all you've currently got?

I don't know what you're waiting for--courage to take your next step, whatever that might be?

A big, life-changing event?  One that will inspire you to finally do everything you always thought you would?  Those things that have faded into the background, those things that maybe you'll get to someday?

We won't all get 90 years.  I pray that you will, if longevity is a goal of yours.

But I'm guessing that if you think about it, there's something you're waiting for, somebody you're waiting on, or some experience you're missing out on, maybe without even realizing what you've been missing.

Suggestion of the day:  Don't wait.