Despite having lived for 28 years in the south (18 in Tennessee and nearly 10 in Virginia), I don't feel like a Southerner. Even though I write about food, photograph food and think about food a lot, I don't really feel like a food blogger either.

Fraud! Perhaps I'm just not a self-identifier.

It was funny, being there. We were all shy, all of us who came alone. I talked with several women about how we assumed that everyone else was supremely self-confident, but really, they were probably all feeling the same way we were. Shy, nervous. Heistant to reach out. Aren't conferences funny things? Aren't groups funny things?

I listened to a lot of conversations about SEO and pageviews and selling ad space and sponsorships. What I enjoyed most were the conversations about creating communities. What was clarifying for me is that the conversations about branding and getting my name out there aren't really for me. Do I want more readers? Well, sure I do. But do I want to think in terms of leveraging myself and promoting my brand? Eh, not really. Not when it comes to the blog, at least. I do want to tend to this space (And trust me, it needs some attention these days. I'm on it, I promise!), but I realized that for SPL at least, I want it to more of a space to gather my friends together than a way to get my name out. It was a clarifying weekend. I want to write and take pictures of the things that interest me and the things I love without worrying if they fit in with my marketing scheme. It may not take my blog far, but it'll keep me happy.

Don't get me wrong, I had a great time at FoodBlogSouth, and I'll likely go back next year. I loved hearing the stories behind food and communities, and I loved talking with people about what I always talk here about: how food connects us all. But. For me really, it was and always is, about the photography. I realized, standing in Helene and Tami's workshop, that really what I should be be signing up for are more photography conferences and workshops. Good to know. Helene's workshop in Charleston quite literally changed my life, and I need to be doing more to tend to my craft, either here on my own in the studio or abroad with other teachers. Something to look forward to. And I was reminded that every time I get behind the camera to take a picture of anything, but especially, especially food, I feel like I am sinking back into my skin. It's time I did a better job of honoring that.

I've felt stuck for awhile, and this past weekend, I might have come a little unstuck. Seeing Helene, and being reminded of her faith in me, can do that to a person. I have some thoughts about some of the next steps I need to take, but really, really. Where do I go from here?

Oh, and I'm guessing you want to know about the food! The pork and cabbage were what we served at our Supper Club a few weeks back. I'm hoping to have that post up this week, and I'll definitely make that dish again. It's from Dinner, a Love Story, and definitely a keeper.

I don't turn to baking, as some do, in times of distress. I'm not a baker, as some are (I'm looking at you, Mom!), by nature. But my boy likes a sweet after dinner, and it's hard to deny a 13-year old his food, be it savory or sweet. It seems better that his dessert choices be homemade rather than pre-packaged as much as possible (let's face it, I'm not superwoman). So I've been baking cookies. Last week, when we got home from the surgeon, but before we headed to Raleigh for the MRI, I had a misty, drizzly, gray few hours before I had to grab Callum from school. I was heartsore and worried. I found it hard to settle. I'd meant to make chocolate crinkle cookies over Christmas but somehow had never gotten around to it (Thank God my mom was here to ensure we were fully stocked without my help!), and I still had all the ingredients. Did I have time (and energy) to make some cookies?

I almost didn't do it. As I said, baking doesn't necessarily consititute comfort to me. Making soup? Sure. Pulling together dinner? That'll soothe me. But baking? I often feel like I've stumbled into Neel's lab, forgetting key ingredients only to have to grab them once my hands are coated in flour. But my hands and my mind needed occupying, and Callum needed cookies. So there you are. Cookie time.

I went digging for the recipes I'd found in December. My friend Alice introduced us to Chocolate Crinkle Cookies years ago, and we love them. Crisp on the outside and chewey on the inside, they're subtle and flavorful. Satisfying. The recipe she shared with us is long gone, but the internet prevails! Sadly, most of the recipes I found called for the dough to chill for several hours, and that was time I didn't have. The one I landed on (finally!) was this, from Williams Sonoma. I don't know. (Shrugs.) Given my reluctance about baking, it seems fitting that this recipe is designed for kids and that the first line of instruction is, "Be sure an adult is nearby to help."

I don't know if you remember, but way back in October, I memory-laned a bit about my family cookie jar. It's hard to replace something so beloved, but I was determined to try. I wanted a cookie jar that evoked the feel of my beloved childhood favorite, not some ridiculous dancing fat man with a kerchief around his neck. I'd had my eye on an owl jar from West Elm but had yet to pull the trigger. I'm so glad I didn't, because will you look at what my mom brought up at Christmas time?

Savory or sweet, it's a little goal of mine to always keep something in this jar.

what have I learned? {life}

baking history :: chocolate crinkle cookies {life}