From Maple-Syrup Dreams to Food Blogging Realities

(Or: How My Imaginary Vermont B&B Became a Real-Life Food Blog)

I used to picture myself in flannel, greeting bleary-eyed travelers with a chirpy “’Morning, hon—pancakes are on!” while the scent of woodsmoke and maple syrup curled through the rafters of my charmingly crooked little bed-and-breakfast somewhere in Vermont. I’d even rehearsed the inn’s name: “The Buttered Scone.” Cute, right? Except—I don’t actually own a B&B in Vermont.

Instead, I have a blog. And Wi-Fi. And a cat who thinks 4 a.m. is an acceptable breakfast seating.

Plot Twist #1: Tuscany, Tagliatelle, and Too Many Towels

Before Vermont ever beckoned, I was living my Under-the-Tuscan-Sun fantasy, running a pint-sized restaurant that doubled as a B&B. Picture rustic stone walls, endless pasta, and me discovering that Italian guests require roughly eleven fresh towels per shower. (Apparently, every limb deserves its own terrycloth hug.)

What I learned to Cook in Italy: Puttanesca and Pasta al Limone ( I was hip to the lemon thing over 30 years ago!)

Plot Twist #2: London Calling—Please Mind the Scones

Then came London, where I worked in a tiny Victorian B&B whose staircase slanted like a Roald Dahl illustration. My job? Haul suitcases the size of Mini Coopers up four flights, brew tea strong enough to stun a corgi, and answer questions like, “Is the Thames visible from the loo?” (Spoiler: no.)

What I learned to cook in London: Cottage Pie Recipe

Plot Twist #3: Coffee-Shop Kid Turned Fancy-Dinner Devotee

Long before any of that, teenage me served “Moons Over MyHammy” in a local Dennys at 2AM. Fast-forward a few years, and I’m plating risotto at white-tablecloth dinner houses where the napkins had more starch than my potatoes. Food, clearly, has stalked me like an over-eager sourdough starter, which by the way I have yet to master!.

Enter: The Vermont Daydream

Between London’s drizzle and Tuscany’s towel shortage, I convinced myself Vermont was the one. I’d serve cheddar-stuffed omelets, tuck handwritten poems under pillow mints, and host leaf-peepers who’d rave on TripAdvisor about my heavenly french toast.

But mortgages come with legally binding paperwork (ugh), and restoring creaky farmhouses requires something called “a budget” (double ugh). So I did what any fiscally responsible, maple-syrup-obsessed foodie would do: I bought a $12 domain name instead.

Blogging: All the Hospitality, None of the Plumbing

Running a blog is oddly similar to running a B&B, minus the clogged drains and 2 a.m. thermostat complaints:

Bed & Breakfast Life vs Blog Life: Greet guests with coffee vs Greet readers with caffeine-powered prose.Flip mattresses vs Flip pancakes for recipe photos (and flip out when the syrup drips off-camera). Curate cozy rooms vs Curate cozy corners of the internet—SEO pillows fluffed just so.

Bonus: When my “guests” (that’s you!) leave comments, nobody demands fresh towels. And the best part, no hotel bill!

Why I Still Love Eating Out (and You Should, Too)

Despite my digital digs, my favorite pastime remains hunting for funky little cafés or dressing up for absurdly fancy dinners—partly for inspiration, partly because someone else does the dishes. Each outing fuels new blog ideas: maybe a maple-pecan scone riff from that hipster bakery, or a demure soufflé stolen—er, adapted—from last night’s Michelin-ish spot.

Moral of the (Tall, Fluffy) Tale

I may never own that Vermont inn, but the essence of hospitality lives on every time I hit “publish”—inviting you into my virtual kitchen, serving up small-batch comfort food, and slipping you a side of storytelling. No planes, no suitcases, no eleven-towel laundry emergencies required.

So grab a cup of something steamy, poke around my recipes, and pretend we’re chatting in a sunlit Vermont breakfast nook. Who needs real estate when you’ve got A Weekend Cook and an unlimited supply of pixels?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the cat is demanding turn-down service.

Buon Appetito Hon

Sydney