Snacking on Hummus, and Reflecting on the Naked Truth of Food Blogging
Roasted Pepper hummus wins hands down above all other hummuses in our house. I don’t even like roasted peppers, but for some reason when they’re charred black, and their skins pulled back to reveal the fleshy pepper meat, a certain sweetness releases out of that flesh, and its that sweetness that pairs so well with the nuttiness of the tahini, the strong earthiness of the cumin, and garlic. It’s a magical thing.
Ok This roasted red pepper hummus is bomb and all, but it’s making me reflect on food blogger in general.
Sometimes I’m uncomfortably honest in my posts. Well, maybe all the time–There’s no other way to write. If I sound annoyingly reflective, unfocused, jumpy, it’s because I probably am. haha Most of the time, I don’t realize how exposed my true self actually is. But it’s all out there for you and everyone else to see. It’s even catalogued so you can compare who I am today to who I was on January 21, 2013 when I wrote about Butternut Squash Soup, or whatever it was that day.
Often times I get anxiety when I share what I write, thinking about the family and friends I laugh with in the day, later visiting my site, spotting grammatical errors here and there, witnessing firsthand how I think about the world, looking at the topics I choose to write about and what I cook in my kitchen. It makes me uneasy, because as soon as I press publish, I’m owning up to all I have typed. Yes, it’s possible to lose friends, even when you’re talking about food. Especially when you’re talking about food. Food is political, and if you stroke the wrong key, you could lose respect. I used to write this blog without letting anyone in my circle see it. I would publish my little notes out into the vast, virtual online space and imagine absolutely no one reading it. It felt good. It was uncomplicated and safe. Eventually I put on my big girl panties and learned to share, and then people began responding.
I want to stress that food sharing/recipe sharing is so raw and an easy target for judgements. It’s terrifying to share, especially when the sharing is mostly just me sharing and it’s not an open dialogue–a blog, with strangers dropping in, rarely ever leaving comments, just scanning your recipe, and making a quick decision about who you are and whether or not they agree or care. People can see through your ingredients to what it is you value and who it is you are. That’s scary, because I don’t know who they think I am! Am I not allowed to clarify?? Did I do a good job explaining?? Did I make sure to appeal to as many people as possible?! Did I offend?!?! Was I politically incorrect there?? Is that not authentic enough??! ….And so on with that anxious type of energy that exhausts me.
It’s so easy to shame people for what they eat if it doesn’t align with what you believe in, and I found myself feeling more nervous about what people criticized than who my recipes and words might be helping. It would be easy to live in a world where people didn’t shame other people for being different. I’ve been guilty of it too, as if “difference” is a threat to my own existence. Instead, the journey of deep self-love, helps teach you that differences are a reinforcement of who we are. We can love what we aren’t and it’ll make us grow even more as we accept all that we can be. To hate and to judge only limits our understanding of ourselves, and reinforces a co-dependence on past definitions we may still be holding onto.
But this thought was not an attempt to trail into some performance of me shaming the shamers and disagreers. Instead it’s a permission-to-speak, need-a-word-with-myself, side note to entertain with while snacking on the last of this roasted red pepper hummus:
The truth is, I am-
Me: a powerful, breathing and dynamic definition that could never be defined in any one context by anyone person.
When I follow my intuition and my passion, I have to trust them as my compass. It’s not my business to wonder and worry about the doubters, skeptics and shamers, because to listen and hesitate would mean being unfaithful to my inner voice/my source/my God which has always taken care of me.
HUMMUS TIP: To achieve what for me was the creamiest hummus I’ve ever set on the tip of my tongue, and the perfect contrast to my crunchy tortilla chip– peel the skins off of the garbanzo beans after you drain them. Roll the bean between your thumb and index finger pressing down gently, and you should see the outer skin, break and peel away. Also, yes…one at a time.
Also: I love this meme/quote. Please excuse the profanity 🙂