I've never taken this blog too seriously as it was created to document dirty, sweaty farm experiences, written from a solar-powered cabin in the sticks, that miraculously picked up a wireless signal from a neighbor up the gravel road. And being on the last leg of my college education (the middle of one's last semester emotionally feels like what I imagine the final birthing push to feel like- immensely painful, rich with anxiousness, knowing that the life to come is worth the temporary discomfort) has me immensely focused on my studies. Needless to say, I'm on reserve energy when writing for Sprout. That said, it floored me when I found out somebody, besides my family and circle of friends, is actually reading it. Not only reading it, but blogging about it - Seattle blogger, Robert Raketty, recently blogged about my Seattle entries on Sprout. This Web thing sure is a crazy beast.
Humor me: MN Blogger on Seattle
I've read a lot of food blogs because... well... I REALLY like food. No, REALLY like the stuff. My size reflects my passion. However, I think Minnesota blogger Melinda Feucht stands out in her posts about her recent visit to the city. Funny, descriptive and unpretentious.
Check it out:
Oh, Seattle. I wish I could taste you.
The most unimaginable, abominable, atrocious thing happened to me my first day in Seattle - I lost my sense of taste. I lost my sense of taste. Something makes me think that the holiday goodies have gotten the best of me by weakening my immune system, another part of me blames the blasted -6 degree Minnesota winter I left with great anxiousness. And you'd think a foodie would know how to treat something like this. Ginger? Tried it. Pickled onions? Yup. Wasaabi? You betcha, alot of it. All with no avail.
If Seattle were a coffee shop, it would be the one that rarely advertises, has minimal store signage on its façade, yet somehow manages to find a line of customers that extends its doors, where people wait ever-so-patiently for a simple croissant and drip, whose customers pride themselves in the quiet knowledge that they’ve found the best spot and wish to keep it a secret. Sorry Seattle, the secret’s out.