Let's start with this: I like to eat. Really, really like it. I have all the respect in the world for people who can live by the adage "consume for nutrition, not for taste," but I will never be able to count myself amongst 'em.
I'm a level-10 introvert who works from home, and often, the process of procuring food for myself is the only thing that gets me out of the house during the dark days of winter. I live in Portland, Oregon, one the greatest food cities in the country, and I have a list in my phone of to-be-visited food establishments a digital mile long. It's updated almost daily.
And, because I like to eat, I like to cook. I'm a full-time DIY blogger who gets to make cool stuff, photograph and write about it every single day, and, yet, a Tuesday night dinner compiled from whatever's in the fridge often feels like the most creative thing I do all week.
So... cookbooks. They're fantastic, and they provide both inspiration and a depth that you can't find on food blogs or Pinterest. (And I love food blogs.) You don't have to buy all of these, but you should definitely check them out from the library or peruse next time you're at the bookstore. Because they read as well from cover-to-cover as a novel, and they'll actually teach you how to eat better.
I was talking to my brother yesterday (he's 24), and he said something that struck me: "I don't like cooking." Why cook, he said, when you can go out and buy something better for $10?
Oh brother. If you are a 24-year-old male without an older brother, let me fill in for a moment, as your older, wiser, sibling, with three supremely important words of advice: learn to cook.
I love cooking. It's the perfect combination of right and left-brainedness (that's a word, right?). When you cook, you have to follow directions carefully, measure things meticulously, and then throw it all out the window and problem-solve creatively when you run out