Love people. Cook them good food.

Well folks, it is the middle of January and my old friend Mr. Belly Pooch is considerably more present than I recall him being prior to the holiday season. What is it about the end of the year that begs for food, food, and more food? I know exactly what it is. When you love somebody, you show it through sharing a meal.

It is no secret that I love to cook. Not just for myself, but for others. Because, really, who enjoys just cooking for themselves? What could be better than offering your friends and loved ones a nice, warm, home cooked meal full of delicious, meticulously (or experimentally) combined ingredients, accompanied by some wine and conversation?

Here in lies my problem. I love to cook. I love to bake. I want to eat all of the things I cook and bake. And the belly pooch is pleased to accept every last carb and calorie.

So I go to the gym 5 times a week and I run on the treadmill and I do squats and I do sit ups. And while there are countless (somewhat) inspirational memes out there telling me "a moment on the lips, forever on the hips" or "abs are made in the gym and revealed in the kitchen", I just can't fight the need to cook something and consume it.

I cannot live on salad because, frankly, salads made at home tend to suck pretty hard. Give me chicken picatta or herb crusted salmon or bacon wrapped sirloin or chipotle chicken and rice. I want something that I can cultivate. I want to gather the ingredients, prepare my kitchen, and slowly pull something fantastic together. There is something about the process that pulls me in, possibly more than the end product. I don't take shortcuts. You will not find any canned "cream of something or other" in the recipes I use. It is just so much more rewarding (and delicious) to work for it.

I am forever holding out hope that my metabolism will get the hint and speed up on its own. Is that not how that works? Oh well. Now bring on the take-out-at-home General Tso chicken!