FACT: This is not my first blog post.
When I was in ninth grade, one of my best friends had a blog. And I thought that was hella cool, so I wrote one too. On it, I would moan about the woes of being a freshman and periodically post chapters of what I can only describe as the worst novel to come out of the mind of a fourteen-year-old trying to be serious.
Thank god we've all moved on.
But there's another confession. I was a theatre kid. And I grew up to be a theatre adult. I moved from Tampa to Philadelphia after having just turned 18 to pursue a degree in musical theatre. For a while, I thought I was going to move to New York and be a Broadway star. But New York is an absolutely terrible place. I know those of you that live there will defend New York to the death, like it's some sort of blood pact you made when you signed your $3,000 lease for a 2x4 and a bucket of murky water, but you will never convince me. I hate New York. The people, the noise, the unnecessarily complex subway system. No. I'm a Gemini with a Leo rising and moon in Virgo, so astrology dictates that I will never love New York. It's fact.
Upon graduating magna cum laude (thank you), I managed to make ends meet working retail and occasionally dabbling in theatre. After a handful of performance contracts and lots of child wrangling, I hit a depressive state. I was unfulfilled. I felt unnoticed and unappreciated for the work I had been doing, and I was hellbent on not being a desperate, schmoozy artist that pretended to know everyone and always asked, "What's up next for you?" Screw that. To top it off, I ended my retail job in favor for the higher-paying highly-flexible job of substitute teacher, which resulted in traveling to different schools and taking a risk on whether or not the students would be well-behaved and receptive to what I had to offer in terms of glorified babysitting. Occasions where a school I liked popped up in the online system or, even better when the school reached out to me, were few and far between. The lack of consistency was maddening.
Oh, and this was right before my wedding. My now-wife actually made me an appointment for a therapist because I couldn't propel myself to get out of bed and teach kids I'd never met. In my session with the therapist, we discussed the possibility of combining my talents to be a drama teacher, but the "those who can't, teach" stigma clouded my judgement, and I had no desire to go back to school for a teaching certificate. As fate would have it, a long-term sub position at a school I loved was available right before my wedding, and it just so happened to be two blocks from the new apartment my wife and I just put our deposit on. I was able to take off for the wedding and honeymoon, and returned to finish out the school year. In the midst of all this, I cashed in my Equity points for a shiny union card that I've only used at a handful of auditions and continue to pay dues toward in case one day for some reason I find my way back to the stage.
Two years later, that same school would offer me a full-year sub position covering a sabbatical and I happily put my theatre persona on hold, save for one concert I somehow miraculously booked. Was I supposed to be an educator? I had been told I have a natural talent for it, but... is this really my calling? As a child, I always answered "teacher" on career day, so maybe I should trust my 8-year-old self and turn the car around.
FACT: If you let an 8-year-old drive a car, they will turn it around.
Currently, I teach theatre at a charter high school where I receive excellent, free benefits for both myself and my son (oh yeah, on December 29, 2019, we had a boy!). Additionally, my wife is a top performer at her corporate sales job. I like to joke that we're rich, but we're not... we're just able to afford our above-average standard of living with relative ease. When buying a bottle of mid-shelf gin doesn't feel like a financial decision, you know you've hit a good spot. Forgive me if it sounds like I'm bragging, but in order to get here I had to surrender what I thought was my lifeblood for over half my life. Just let me have this, okay?
ENTER: Pandemic.
Thanks to COVID-19, I'm somehow teaching drama online, and my wife transitioned immediately from maternity leave to social quarantine, taking countless conference calls and emails around the clock. I had been kicking around the idea of a food blog for years, and was always planning to finally take the plunge come summer of 2020. I mean, my current kitchen is gorgeous. Once Philadelphia officially went to social distancing, I had plenty of time to actually develop the recipes I wanted to publish.
I don't have a culinary degree. I've never worked in a restaurant. I have no expertise. But I love to cook. I love to bake. I love food. And when I decided to make an Instagram, I became that person that only posts pictures of food, but it wasn't just grilled chicken breast and a salad #blessed. I was diving into ice cream churning and cake baking as a way to hold myself accountable for the eventual food-adjacent job I wanted. Suddenly, people wanted recipes.
So, what's going on here?
I'm a dad now, and also the primary cook in the house, as my wife's work day ends hours after mine, and will occasionally include a 1.5+ hour commute back home. This is my way of keeping track of the food I make that sustains myself, my wife, and hopefully my son once he starts eating solid food. I've gotten very bored to the meat-starch-veg formula that only requires salt, pepper, and garlic. I love going out to restaurants (Philly = Hidden Food City) and trying unique eats, so why not bring this sense of adventure back into my own kitchen? Plus, I've shamelessly inherited a sweet tooth from my father and his father and his father, so there will be plenty of desserts coming your way.
Subscribe to my blog if you want more. Or don't. It's your world, I'm just living in it.
With salt and blind hope,
~c.j. celeiro
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