Why do I have this job? Because I was in the right place at the right time; an overqualified administrative assistant who wrote a pitch that sold myself as the relief for an overloaded sales manager without the time or desire to dream up marketing schemes. A well-crafted email touting my skills garnered me a pay raise and a new title.
It was exciting at first. I hastily bought Marketing for Dummies (out of my own pocket). When it arrived on my doorstep a few days later, I settled into bed and pored over its pages with an uncapped yellow highlighter, poised to unlock the secrets of the marketing professional. After several nights, I emerged from my bedroom with bleary eyes and a dried out pen. I had highlighted everything and understood nothing. Dare I admit that?
In the months and years that have followed I've learned enough marketing jargon to be dangerous. ROI. B2B. These are acronyms I know, not from the collegiate classroom, but from Google queries. I can tell you what they stand for but not what they really mean. (This, however, doesn’t stop me from throwing them around in staff meetings occasionally.)
In two years, I've compiled a series of marketing plans and pieces, calling upon my background as a degreed journalist and freelance writer again and again. My project management skills have certainly helped too and got me through a website launch and too many trade shows to count. I also thank God again and again for a brilliant pair of graphic artists who breathe life into my ad copy with stellar design skills.
Despite my perceived lack of qualifications, I have a fledgling career and a boss who seems to be pleased with my output. Yet I find myself wanting more, as cliché as it sounds. I have long ago abandoned marketing handbooks for cookbooks and culinary texts, my favorite evening reading material. I do love a good novel, but with two daughters and a husband, it's much easier to devour a recipe than a chapter of fiction.
My cooking prowess has been cultivated by my voracious appetite for recipes. Not new to the kitchen, I picked up my first cookbook a decade ago. It was a wedding gift, and as a new bride, I felt compelled to learn to cook. I can't claim the title of Chef, but I am classically trained by the Rombauers and Beckers (Joy of Cooking) and a healthy dose of the Food Network. In ten years, I've graduated from stocks and mother sauces to the craft of recipe writing.
Now at 33, I'm embarking on a quest to write a cookbook, one humble recipe at a time. Some will fail and some may even win over my meat-and-potatoes husband. So, I invite you to join me in my Scarlet Kitchen for a culinary experiment. Am I destined for grandeur? Probably not. But hopefully I'll gain some faithful readers along the way and compile a set of recipes to pass along to my daughters.
Yours truly,
The Domestic Foodie
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