A Process

While I started my culinary novel over a year ago it was initially born out of my raw assumptions of what people wanted to read. And along the way I realized how unequipped I was to achieve this so I sought out various means of learning whether online classes, simply reading constantly, and trying different things out.

During the process my main goal was assumed to be that they are entertained while believing my sincerity. And I am at the point now where sincerity isn’t enough. That is because I am not a sincere person, not precisely. Rather I am an obsessive person at heart. I can’t help but want to drown myself in something. And while writing this culinary novel I rediscovered that I absolutely get off on cooking. And not just simply doing it myself, but the theoretical and cultural aspects.

But I am a terrible customer because at this point I don’t care if your roast whatever is cooked perfectly. And even worse I dare say that I don’t care if your braise has perfectly gelatinized. I need to know who you are, how to communicate ideas or culture, or how you exorcise something into life. Quite frankly there’s no clear reason to believe there’s anything to civilization beyond shitting, fucking, and eating. This is what I aim to write about, maybe minus the shitting. But hey it takes place in New York so…