I love food. Not just the act of going to a nice pub and sitting down to eat greasy fries and a really good juicy burger, the kind that makes the corners of your mouth a mess and your hands all sticky, but the whole concept of food and creation. I’m not one to socialize at dinner parties, I prefer to be in the kitchen, slaving away over a hot meal, stirring tasting and then bringing out the final dish for everyone to enjoy. For me, that final touch of something something, is seeing everyone’s eyes light up and enjoy a meal I created with my two hands because for me if you can’t make something with your two hands that people enjoy what’s the point in life? Even if that means creating funky jewelry or designing an album of a sister’s wedding.

Sometimes when I cook or eat at a restaurant with friends, I feel like something lacks. That when I come up with a great combination of foods (pesto on an omelette .. uh yeah!) the greatness of the dish doesn’t fulfill its greatest potential because the people eating it can’t realize and differentiate all the tastes. Sometimes a, “This is really good *gobble gobble*” isn’t enough for me … well I didn’t realize it wasn’t enough until now.

I knew I enjoyed food and wanted to share it, a friend of mine helped me realized my potential when I created the Roasted Mushroom Soup recipe, that he asked for and adored. It was then I realized I could help people who didn’t enjoy cooking or didn’t enjoy the trial and error of creating food; which is why Sunday Recipes was created.

My trip to Newburyport and a dinner at the Agave Mexican Bistro allowed me to fully comprehend the feeling of sharing a meal and cooking with someone that has those same ambitions; the same love of food. Its one thing to have someone try to share in your love with food, it’s another thing entirely to find someone who has the same passion, one that defies words. It’s a shared passion that you only realize in the moment of putting a fork with blackened chicken with chocolate mole sauce in your mouth that you both know exactly what it is.

Now that I’m back home that spark that inspiration of shared passion wavers once in awhile. Now that I’ve felt it, meals and restaurants lack in comparision. But it sure is nice to send a quick email to someone with a title of “Guess what I’m having now” and know that person on the other side is completely jealous and sends feedback on what could make it better. It’s a nice feeling to have someone inspire you to cook and live your dreams, no matter how obscure they may be.

Granted, my travelling experience in the states is limited to less than I can count on two hands, but out of that handful of places I think Newburyport, Massachusetts would be the place I could see myself living. I know. I know. As I say that several people will probably be saying to me through their screen that I haven’t seen their city, “Mine’s prettier!” or “What are you thinking, there are places in New England prettier then Newburyport!” but out of what I’ve seen if I HAD to live in the States …

It has that old school feel that the west coast lacks; it looks gorgeous in the winter (can you imagine in the fall!) It has thee favourite restaurant I’ve been to (more on that to come) and it’s by the ocean. Besides New England is known for its sailing, but sorry they couldn’t beat out the Blue Nose (yes that’s a jab Brit).

The one thing I will admit, boy the people there are snobby. I’ve had Canadian friends ask me if it’s true, that American’s have that stereotype about them and I never noticed it on my travels to the west coast, but it really was prudent on the east coast. Here in Vancouver people are more aware of their surroundings and the people around them – a smile as they hold the door open, eyes meeting as you walk down the street. It felt like everyone I ran into while I was out seemed so focus on themselves that they didn’t give anyone the time of day, unless they wanted to sell you something. Even the waitresses were pushy – “Eat your pancakes Mike!”

Just to get it out of the way, since I’m sure a lot of you noticed my random disappearance to the east coast in the middle of winter. Normally I’m one to write all about my trip, what was fun, what wasn’t but when it comes to my love life everyone around me can assure you I’m one to clam up pretty tight. I don’t know I’m not one to gush and spread the news, just not that type.

Let’s just say I went to Boston for a boy.

I came to the conclusion that I’m never going to just go to the airport and take the next flight out. A) I’m the planning type, I don’t like last minute things and B) Last minute flights in North America are hella expensive (did I just type the word hella ….) This whole trip pretty much goes against the norm for me. In less than a week of knowing about it I flew across the continent for a week, than within 24 hours I bought tickets and flew to Windsor, Ontario. I went through Toronto airport three times in two weeks and have explored pretty much every inch a passenger can of that airport going from their National to International terminals … and there and back again a Heather Mulholland story.