I come from a long line of cotton farmers, Sunday School teachers, and John Deere mechanics. Rural Texas still holds a place in my heart, but I was never going to find answers to why I felt different. Fire-and-brimstone sermons gave my feelings a name, but I somehow knew they weren't the final word. I couldn't find Harvey Milk or Sylvester biographies, but I could lean into Julia Child and James Beard.

I daydreamed of places where people ate turkey tonnato and coq au vin, trading witty barbs over a glass of white Burgundy—something that seemed impossible amongst my surrounding silos and caliche roads. My mom encouraged the obsession. For a brief season, she experimented with international cookbooks, churning out "Spanish" stuffed peppers, "Chinese" stir-fries, and "French" desserts. None of the dishes were authentic, but they were still wholly unfamiliar. In each bite, I got a glimpse of cosmopolitan life.

I became obsessed with Morrissey and Jean Genet through high school, but that didn't square with burger flipping. But I could fully feed my pretensions when I struck out alone. I had few cooking skills, but that didn’t keep me from tinkering. I still swear salsa verde and pepitas make a killer ramen topping.

I only considered writing a vocation once I was mired in a corporate job. I started writing LGBTQIA+ blogs for the Austin Chronicle, later landing a gig as the assistant news editor. My political coverage never impressed my bosses, but they allowed me to succeed Virginia Wood. I was the food editor during one of the most thrilling times for the Capital City. The whiplash restaurant scene churned out food trucks and innovative, upscale restaurants at an unprecedented rate.

Later, I was drawn to the immediacy of day-to-day coverage. I began working at CultureMap as the food editor, where I learned how to hear the snap of an SEO headline and how to report breaking news quickly. Most excitingly, I could tell San Antonio's stories before much mainstream media discovered its charms.

Perhaps as atonement for my caustic reviews, I jumped at a chance to work as the communications director for the Texas Food & Wine Alliance. As one does at a nonprofit, I wore a dozen hats. I had a hand in all operations—copywriting, PR, influencer marketing, event production, social media, and graphic design. I helped pass out meals during the infamous freeze, worked with Luck on a pandemic-era video series, and spearheaded the organization's launch throughout Texas.

I am now venturing out independently, but the mission remains the same. The stories of the food and beverage industry still make me spark. Every conversation with a chef, artisan, or farmer makes me feel honored. And, yes, I still browse through cookbooks every week.