I love cookbooks, and I have a lot of them. Sometimes I'll sit and look through them and bookmark stuff I'd like to make. But do I ever actually cook any of it? Not really. Okay, yes, my life is unbelievably busy. Insane day job. Single parent to three kids, two of which are fully mobile but still in diapers. Writing career (for some definition of "career" that involves lots of snickering in the dark) at night. A house to take care of. Three cats. One big silly dog. Is it a surprise I don't have time to cook much? No. Could I be forgiven for not cooking more than I do? Absolutely. Would it be stupid for me to hold it against myself that I don't cook more? Without a doubt. Do I anyway? You betcha. I'm not so good at giving myself credit for the things I do, but I'm very good at giving myself a hard time about the things I don't. This is one of them.
So, I have all these cookbooks. See them in the crappy photo?

Now, I know that at least one of those cookbooks is just going to have to wait until I retire ("660 Curries") but really, most of them are just sitting there idle because I don't make time for them. To address that, I give you
the 2011 Cooking Resolution:
Before the end of 2011, I will cook a minimum of 20 recipes I've never cooked before, each from a different cookbook on the shelf. I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to meet, or even exceed, that goal.
And it starts tonight. Cooking post to follow. (-: