Au Revoir, Pee Wee.

To everyone who reads this every day, thank you.

One year and seven months ago, I started a Tumblr account in which I took a photo of something that I ate daily.  That’s it, just pictures.  One year and seven months later, I built up a modestly sized written food empire that has grown by twists and turns in ways that I would never expect.  For this, and you, I am extremely grateful.

From the beginning, I vowed that I would never cover the same thing twice on my blog.  To my knowledge, I have not.  In this process (as well as in my stubbornness) I blew the lid off of my own creativity.  What started off as me taking a couple of photos a day of food developed into a love of writing.  Where the adoration for the written word anchored itself into my heart, I discovered that my knowledge base needed to grow.  I went out there and did just that, pestering cooking friends and then studying under cooks (gratis) for almost a year.  I ate.   I read all that I could get my hands on when I couldn’t experience the cooking experience myself.  I cut my knuckles, sheared off fingernails, hyperventilated over mandolins, burned my palms, my wrists, my arms.  I did it all because I wanted to know, because I wanted to sop up the juices at the bottom of the bowl.  I created Unprofessional Cookery because I love to cook and to write and I love to entertain you as well.

In that time, I’ve seen all kinds of transformations within myself and within the blog.  I’ve played with formats and writing styles only to discover that I’m definitely not going to be the next Hemingway (but I’m not half bad).  Every day I discovered a new joy when my analytic numbers jumped 10, 15, 100 marks from the day before.  I strategized, planned and motivated myself through cultivating a wider audience.  I ate up all of this like candy.

For one year and seven months I have been obsessed with food and cooking and writing about it all.  Every morning I scanned headlines looking for inspiration and bought extra foodstuffs to mangle in my kitchen at night.  My social life often suffered because I took this unpaid labor of love extremely seriously.  My tight abs went from a two-pack to a pear with a secretary spread.   This blog, this little photo blog of mine, has become a second job for me.  Every morning I get up an hour (or more) earlier than I need to just to write another article for you..  and for myself.  I buy good food and eschew gadgets because I have to know how to do this right.  I jumped into this with three feet into a complete abyss of fun.

I’m grateful for this experience of writing about food obsessively, but I’m tired.  Over the last week in Montreal, I realized that I wasn’t having fun rushing from here to there thinking of writing projects for when I got back, suffering through maple syrup tastings and looking up native Québécois cuisine.  I don’t earn a paycheck from my hobby and I know a hell of a lot more about good cooking and good eating than I did one year and seven months ago, so why am I burning my candle at both ends for something that once made me happy?    As I’ve known for the last few months, watching my creative juices run as thin as the maple syrup that ran down my gullet that its best to exit stage left when you’re at your peak.

So I’m leaving you for now.  Which fills me with sadness, but also supplies me with relief.

I’ll continue to cook for sure.  I’ll probably continue to write for myself as well.  It is guaranteed that I will definitely miss all of you that read this daily and tell me about it.  Yet I know that for now its time to put this blog to sleep under a layer of pate a choux with sweet memories.  The crust will brown nicely rather than becoming tough and burnt over time.  I will not degrade into a “foodie”.  I realize that there’s an infinite number of things that I will never know about my hobby of choice, but I will be happy to experience them all from someone else’s perspective.

Maybe I won’t be gone forever.  Maybe you’ll see me sitting at a table somewhere, studying my salad of choice like a fine painting.  Perhaps our paths will cross in line for coffee, mine always black.  Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll ask you for a bite off of your plate.

Until then, keep eating often and keep eating well.  And keep it vegetarian.

Simply,

Hannah