I wake up thinking about the earthy smell of dark roasted coffee. That, and what might go with it. A dish of cool yogurt drizzled with golden honey? A puffy croissant, or maybe just a humble piece of buttered toast? This is what gets me out of bed in the morning.

Pretty much the rest of my day is spent thinking about food. (Is the chicken free-range?) Obtaining food. (No, really, is the chicken free-range?) Preparing food. (Eating a whole roast chicken at midnight must be totally normal someplace.) Some people might think that traveling 50 miles on a whim to pick my own berries just because the ones nearby  tasted “off” is an obsession. I prefer to think I’m just curious.

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