On November 29, 2007, I made a decision that would start a chain reaction of transformation and change. I wrote a recipe for a dish I developed and clicked the “Publish” button for the first time on. Five years ago today, I staked a place for my little blog, Food Woolf.
Even the smallest action can result in big change. Just ask a ship captain how a simple adjustment of just one degree–sustained over time–can seriously alter a boat’s final destination.
A life changing meal in Panicale, Italy brought me the awakening I needed to wake me up to the need to enjoy my life as an artist. I was an isolated, frustrated screenwriter with few film credits to her name and no Hollywood sale to pay the bills. I was constrained by my art form. The act of screenwriting felt far too futile and dedicated to the constant practice of living in fantasy.
The decision to start my blog was the result of a resolution to try something different. Food Woolf would be my place to offer up weekly literary homage to food, cooking, and my life as a restaurant professional. I would use the blog to motivate me to leave my home and document my life in the world.
It took me a while to sand down the edges to get to the core of what this blog was about. My first post began as a kind of love letter to Nancy Silverton and a conversation we had about a recipe I developed. Over the years I dabbled in restaurant reviews, food profiles, and even did the occasional food news round up. I charted my irrational fear of baking, and spoke about the challenges of being a waiter.
Along the way I found my voice.
I’ve put away the cocktail shaker and waiter’s uniform and started my own restaurant consulting business.
I’ve met incredible people, made wonderful friends, and cooked with culinary heroes. I traveled far and wide in the name of food and writing. I’ve spoken at conferences, been nominated for food writing awards, and been recognized for my art form by people I truly admire. Foodwoolf–and all the people like you who I’ve meet through this site–are the incremental nudges that have lead me to this place of peace.
Beyond the obvious road markers that are easy to observe, the one thing that’s changed the most in me isn’t something that can be seen.
I have been transformed from the inside, out.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for the inspiration to grow. Thank you for challenging me to be more vulnerable. Thank you for inviting me to keep it simple.