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--You’ll only eat chocolate your Dutch friend brings you directly from Holland (unless it is a DIRE emergency, and then you’ll resign yourself to a local specialty shop).
--You own five or more kinds of vinegar.
--You own five or more kinds of salt.
--You put the final touch on a dessert by saying "It just needs a little orange blossom water," and you actually have a bottle of orange blossom water in the cupboard.
--All the magazines you subscribe to are about food.
--You’re lying awake at night because you can’t sleep from the excitement of conjuring up a new recipe.
--Your first word (before "mama" or "dada") was "cookie"--and your spouse’s first word was "cheese."
--You work at a bookstore, and when one of your colleagues excitedly tells you that five gorgeous young men have arrived, wearing only aprons and tight boxer shorts, to promote a new cookbook, your response is: "Ooh, did they bring food?"
--You return home from a family Christmas and take your entire bag of presents straight to the kitchen to unpack it.
--Your husband is embarrassed to take you out to eat because of the moaning noises you make while eating something incredible.
--You just won’t stop fiddling with old family recipes--and your mother actually thinks your versions are better.
--Before traveling to a new destination, the first thing you do is scour the Internet (and your friends’ brains) for information on the local dining scene.
--All your friends who are traveling call you first to ask if you know a good place to eat at their destination.
--Your husband has put you on a condiment moratorium, telling you that you must use up all the fancy-ass stuff you buy when you travel before you bring home any more.
--When you walk into Sur La Table with your teenaged daughter, she calls it "The Mothership."
--Some of your best friends are farmers, ranchers, and chefs.
--Your family knows better than to touch a beautiful plate of food until you’ve had a chance to photograph it.
--You’ve caught yourself dreaming of food and chewing it in your sleep.
Guilty as charged
--You own five or more kinds of vinegar.
--You own five or more kinds of salt.
--You put the final touch on a dessert by saying "It just needs a little orange blossom water," and you actually have a bottle of orange blossom water in the cupboard.
--All the magazines you subscribe to are about food.
--You’re lying awake at night because you can’t sleep from the excitement of conjuring up a new recipe.
--Your first word (before "mama" or "dada") was "cookie"--and your spouse’s first word was "cheese."
--You work at a bookstore, and when one of your colleagues excitedly tells you that five gorgeous young men have arrived, wearing only aprons and tight boxer shorts, to promote a new cookbook, your response is: "Ooh, did they bring food?"
--You return home from a family Christmas and take your entire bag of presents straight to the kitchen to unpack it.
--Your husband is embarrassed to take you out to eat because of the moaning noises you make while eating something incredible.
--You just won’t stop fiddling with old family recipes--and your mother actually thinks your versions are better.
--Before traveling to a new destination, the first thing you do is scour the Internet (and your friends’ brains) for information on the local dining scene.
--All your friends who are traveling call you first to ask if you know a good place to eat at their destination.
--Your husband has put you on a condiment moratorium, telling you that you must use up all the fancy-ass stuff you buy when you travel before you bring home any more.
--When you walk into Sur La Table with your teenaged daughter, she calls it "The Mothership."
--Some of your best friends are farmers, ranchers, and chefs.
--Your family knows better than to touch a beautiful plate of food until you’ve had a chance to photograph it.
--You’ve caught yourself dreaming of food and chewing it in your sleep.
Guilty as charged
