Before the pandemic, I never really understood “foodie” culture. As a travel writer, I enjoyed cooking classes when they were on the itinerary, but the lessons were lost on me once the final dish was plated. I was more fascinated by the personalities of chefs than the actual ingredients.
But when travel locked down, something stirred in me: Watching Food Network shows well into the night (“Guy’s Grocery Games” was my guiltiest favourite) inspired my own stabs at the recipes, to little success. An attempt at making honey sriracha led to melting a spatula — and the smell of burnt plastic for days.
