Hey guys, today we have a little something special – a guest post from the boy behind the blog, Jesse! This is the first post in our new series – The Man Mantras. Enjoy!
I don’t understand the food world. I eat food, I like food, I digest food. That’s pretty much the extent of it.
Walking into the Boulder Whole Foods earlier today conjured up a plethora of thoughts and feelings. My first instinct wasn’t to swoon at the freshness of the local, organic certified, non-GMO, free range broccoli, but rather to take a moment and grapple with the fact that I might, just maybe, fit in here. “I’ve made it” I quietly thought to myself. At this point, Aimee had already navigated herself to the juice bar as I continued to stand in the entry way, tear streaming down my cheek. It was then that a friendly gentleman with a man bun, presumably sweaty from his morning pilates class, politely asked me to move along.
As I walked towards the coffee counter, flip flops echoing throughout the store, a friendly staff member with shaggy hair looked up from his task of stocking some sort of “essential” something or other and greeted me with a familiar, “hey man, how’s it going?”
“Good dude, yourself?” I responded without a thought. It’s that easy! I belong!
I sipped on my cold brew as I made my way over to the juice bar to find Aimee. Looking around, I had the startling realization that I might not blend in with the other Whole Foods shoppers as well as I thought. Almost in an instance, I was transported to “the Upside Down” from Stranger Things, as objects on shelves began to transform into unknown entities. It was at this point I realized that 80% of Whole Foods’ inventory is foreign to me. “Rhubarb? What the hell is that?”
This pretty much sums up my relationship with food. I respect food, I appreciate good healthy food. I eat said food. I don’t for the life of me mix or apply heat to it (Fire Marshal’s orders).
Living with Aimee has been an amazing experience for many reasons. Near the top of that list is the fact that I get to witness and taste first-hand the various sweet concoctions she whips up in our kitchen.
Okay- I know what you’re thinking: “Someone’s in the dog house, otherwise why would she have her boyfriend, who clearly has a Grade 10 writing level, write a post?”
I’ll have you know; we don’t have a dog house because our dogs deserve better than that… and when I’m bad, I sleep in the garage.
In all seriousness though, I love being able to witness (more so taste) the wonders that come out of our kitchen. And yes, there is a chance I’m writing this just so I ensure that keeps happening (I’ll leave the judgment up to you… judgers…) I’m grateful I’m no longer the only one who has an in on these recipes and hope that all you readers enjoy them for years to come.*
*Okay, now I’m just sucking up. More cookies please.