Hugs, Kisses And Avocados
So I totally hate goodbye crap. And anyway, I know you all read this for dessert glamour shots, so I won’t get all OHMYGODTHISBLOGISALLABOUTME. But I did birth this thing, so I guess a proper sign-off is necessary.
Endless Simmer is a fucking wonderful place. It’s funny and silly and naughty and just serious enough to be considered a worthy read. Endless Simmer created my writing career. It was the first place I wrote about food, and then it quickly progressed to The Onion’s AV Club (thanks Chris Mincher, my first editor!), The Washington Post Express, Washington City Paper, The Washington Post, Eater DC, The Chew…and now Northern Virginia Magazine.
I credit the Simmer for forcing me to write every day. To think critically about food. To order obscene dishes and mock them. To take pictures of Brussels sprouts and Andrew Sullivan in a Subway. To meet food obsessed people around the country and throughout the world and to keep in touch with one of my very best friends, BS.
Endless Simmer was my home. My priority. And very often I had to stay in, come home early or ignore my fiancé to write a blog post. Only a few times would I call BS at 3 o’clock in the morning, wasted, to let him know I couldn’t file my morning slot. He laughed at me.
I’m super bummed to stop writing here. And I kinda wish it wasn’t so damn awesome that it wouldn’t be seen as a conflict of interest. But it is pretty rad. And will continue to be. The wonderful folks here will keep it going, bringing ridiculousness from kitchens and restaurants from Brooklyn to Orange County.
So thank you Endless Simmer, for turning me into a full time (I have a dining budget!) food writer. And thank you to: readers, bitchy commenters, people that yell at us for using the word fuck in the headline, all food bloggers, Rachael Ray, Erica our singer laureate, publicists, Liz Lemon, Eleanor and the entire TFG crew, the many dedicated and hilarious contributors, Mom, DAD GANSIE, Scott, Sherry, Bennett and BS.
And I’m still holding out that Friday Fuck-Ups turns into a coffee table book.
Hugs, kisses and avocados,