Well hello!

This is a blog about my adventures into American cooking. I love American food, I mean who else has cake for breakfast?? I can pinpoint the moment I fell in love with American food. I was in New York with my college class and we were walking around Central Park on a gloriously hot day in March 2000. It was the second time I had been on a plane and was so happy I survived the journey so decided to celebrate by eating whatever I could find. We approached a hot dog stand and having already eaten a hotdog from a stand at the entrance to the park thought I'd try something different. I noticed a huge pretzel in a glass case. It intrigued me because in the UK pretzels are tiny, biscuity, incredibly salty and very dry. I took a chance and bought one. It was handed to me with a napkin wrapped around it and I could feel the warmth on my finger tips. As I looked at it I could see the rock salt scattered across it in a casual yet perfect way. I tilted my head not losing eye contact with the pretzel and bit. Immediately my teeth sank into warm doughyness with the rock salt acting like mini fireworks of flavour being set alight on my tongue. The outside was smooth and almost felt shiny but inside it was soft, fresh, bread, which had a slight chew. It was as comforting as a big hug from my large breasted Nanna. I stopped walking. I stood staring at this thing of wonder that had looked inconspicuous sitting innocently in it's glass case but was now giving me a knowing wink. I was hooked and ate one everyday for the remainder of the holiday. I have raved about these ever since but I've never considered making one. Some things are just sacred.

So now you know how I lost my American food virginity how about some less exciting facts about me? Well, I'm a Welsh woman living in Leicester with a beautiful but long suffering partner (aka the boss), 2 dogs (Bruno and Peggy) and a large (by British standards) kitchen. I must admit the kitchen and garden sold the house to us. 3 years later and we now realise how un-practical the kitchen is with no draining board, wooden worktops and oven door which is hanging off. The oven isn't level either so all of my cupcakes come out of the oven at an angle. But ever the optimist I think it gives my lovely little-big kitchen character.

My dogs love to watch me cook. Bruno sits there and almost enters a trance like state, his eyes slowly closing and opening, his head bobbing. Peggy is all about what she can get, occasionally I feel her head darting between my feet if she thinks I've dropped something (usually I have but don't tell the boss), she then proceeds to lick the entire floor just in case she's missed something.

I am a good cook. I wouldn't say I was a great cook just someone who likes to eat and I never get recipes right first time. I realised in my early 20's that as I like eating so much, I should learn to feed myself. So I did - very much trial and error. The boss could tell you a few stories about grey scones with the texture of brick and red pepper risotto that despite being cooked for 3 hours, was undercooked.

I grew up on a small terraced street in Taibach (it means 'little houses' in Welsh, I think). Mam was an ........................ enthusiastic cook but Dad had funny eating hours so my brother and I weren't about to wait til 9 o'clock at night for some grub. Luckily for us there was (and still is) a chippy at the top of FFrwdwyllt street (honestly that was the name of our street!) so we survived on rissole, chips and a can of Vimto almost exclusively.

I still don't know where I get my passion for cooking from but I've always been encouraged, from an early age, to be a good eater! So join me on my culinary discovery of the US of A! xx