I am NOT an anxious person. Yes, I worry about the normal things like my kids, my grey hairs (courtesy of my kids) and what I’m going to eat for dinner. BUT, I don’t get anxious. I don’t stay up at night worrying about things that are way beyond my control or irrational. I don’t get cold sweats and for the most part, the things that make a lot of people freak out, like public speaking, don’t really make me flinch.
Which is why, when I was given the opportunity to interview Paul Wahlberg of Wahlburgers for my Lifestyle Frisco gig, it was odd for me to freak the heck out. But that’s exactly what I did.
I didn’t freak out for the reasons most people would expect. It wasn’t because he is a reality show star. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, but I never watched the show so I didn’t have a Fan Girl vibe. It also wasn’t because he has uber-famous brothers. I mean, I love me some Marky Mark and, being of the Teen Beat generation, am also a card-carrying member of the NKOTB Fan Club. But celebrity just doesn’t do much for me. They’re just like you and me, those famous people. They eat peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon, leave the toilet seat up and generally annoy their spouse. They just happen to be famous. Good on them.
So that wasn’t the source of my middle of the night waking, stomach-churning anxiety either.
Nope. The actual source was a major case of Imposter Syndrome.
Y’all know what this is, right?
Wikipedia (that font of always accurate internet knowledge) defines it like this:
A psychological pattern in which one doubts one’s accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a “fraud”
And this, my friends, is exactly why I was freaking out. Because I was firmly, albeit subconsciously, convinced that I was a complete imposter of a food writer and for sure when interviewing a famous celebrity chef who has been interviewed all over by real (and not fake) food writers I would be exposed. For sure.
Because real food writers have fancy cameras and take arsty shots and use their phones as recording devices and wear logoed polo shirts and newspaper nametags. And real food reporters ask questions, actual questions, about the food and the business and the restaurant.
I do exactly none of these things.
If you know me in real life, this is probably no surprise. I don’t fit this bill. I don’t have a fancy camera. I am not taking artsy food shots or posing with my food without looking awkward. I don’t record conversations (because that seems weird and this is not Watergate) and I would rather poke my own eye out than wear a logo polo shirt. I don’t ask real questions because they are boring and I typically don’t even go in with a plan.
Instead, I roll up in my uniform (t-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket if you must know) with one goal: to have a conversation. That’s it. I want to learn about the person behind the food. End goal.
Because I could not care less about the other stuff. I am fascinated by the story. And trust me, there is always a story. I am fascinated by the person, by their why. I want to connect the person to the food to the restaurant and draw that line so well that every reader in our little town feels connected to their dream in a very personal way. Foodies are foodies because of this connection between their heart and their food and I want to make that for the readers too.
And this has worked really well for every interview I’ve done so far. Except this one felt different. It wasn’t an open-ended conversation with a local chef. This was a 20-minute time slot orchestrated by a PR team with press restrictions and lots of other reporters hanging around waiting their turn. It felt rushed and official and, for me, very uncomfortable.
So I panicked.
Surely this famous chef would see that I’m just amateur-ville playing at this whole food writer game? Right? I’d stick out like a sore thumb among the other well-poloed reporters who know what they’re doing. I would be exposed from the get-go. Plus, if I’m not sticking my phone out there to record the conversation, what do I do with my hands?
These were all the questions that kept me up the night before the interview. These were the things I worried about.
But I’m old enough and mature (AHEM) enough to not let these fears keep me from acting. So I went. I put on my big girl pants (read: ripped jeans) and went, nerves and all. I walked into a chaotic scene with very official-looking reporters milling around, yes, some of them in polos, most in teams with very fancy cameras and notepads. They all looked like they belonged there. In my own doubt-filled mind, I did not.
When it was my turn, though, all of that clamor and noise and doubt disappeared and I somehow managed to do what I do best. I talked. I listened. I didn’t “interview,” I had a conversation, one foodie to another. I didn’t ask about the business. I didn’t bring up fangirl questions about his brothers. I asked him what he eats when he’s not on duty and we talked about the emotional connection we have with food and how it shaped our childhoods, both East Coast, both a little on the lower-middle-class side.
We shared death row meals. 
We talked. I didn’t record. I almost forgot to take a picture. But we talked and we connected over food. And the next day I sat down and wrote a really good article and also got an email from Paul’s PR rep telling me he enjoyed our conversation and really liked my questions.
So there’s that.
Here’s the deal, friends. I am still not a food reporter. I’m a writer. And there is a difference. That doubt I was feeling, the stuff that crept up and kept me awake and made me feel like a giant imposter in a room full of certified originals, it had space to breathe and grow because I was trying to sit at the wrong table. I was clamoring for a seat where I didn’t belong.
It was never my table.
If I want to do this food writing thing and do it well, I’m going to have to do it my way. I spent years building a career someone else’s way and it didn’t turn out too well. I learned this lesson. If I want this to work and work for me, I’m going to have to create my own table.
And I’m not saying this is true for everyone, at every point in our lives, but I really do believe that in order to live the life we were meant to live, one where our hearts and passions and gifts and talents all align, we’re going to have to get over the urge to pull up a seat at the big boys table. We were never meant to sit there. The big boy’s table is mahogany. And dark. And heavy. And they drink scotch there. And smoke cigars. And not that there’s anything wrong with that, but we don’t always belong at that table and when we continually try to take a seat there, it NEVER works. We’re never true to ourselves.
Your table might look different. Maybe it’s delicate and clear, with fresh flower centerpieces and vintage chairs. Maybe you drink wine or sparkling water. Maybe it’s funky and eclectic, with bright colors and abstract art. Whatever….it’s your freaking table. Make it your own. You don’t have to be like everyone else to be successful. In fact, if you do, you’ll probably be just like everyone else and help some dude build his dream business and mountain home on the back of your hard work. You do you, boo. Build your own damn table. Light your own fire.
And don’t ever, and I mean, EVER, feel less than because you’re doing it your way. In the end, that’s what’s going to set you apart.
Vegan Double Chocolate Espresso Muffins
Talk about imposters…..these muffins are total imposters. Totally. If I didn’t tell you, you’d probably never know that they are vegan and actually not bad for you. You’d just think you were eating a rich chocolatey muffin that you loved. That’s it. But the deal is, they are vegan and while I’m not going to go out on a limb and say they are healthy, they definitely are a sweet treat that shouldn’t bring about mounds of guilt.
I tinkered with this recipe a fair bit and I love how it turned out. I tried multiple different kinds of egg substitutes (I like flax the best) and before you freak out about the mayo part, just trust me. It makes these DELICIOUS. I love how espresso brings out the depth of the chocolate but I can imagine if you choose to omit it you will still have quite an amazing muffin on your hands. I personally like baking with soy milk best as I find it is the richest of the dairy-alternatives but my last batch I accidentally used almond and they turned out fine. And if you don’t happen to care one way or another about being vegan in your baking, regular milk and a plain old egg in place of flax makes a great muffin as well.
Either way, you end up with a rich double chocolate muffin that has espresso in it. What’s not to love?
Peace, love and imposters,
Meg
Love muffins but don’t love chocolate? Try out these other amazing muffin recipes:
Pumpkin Muffins with Cream Cheese Swirl
Vegan Double Chocolate Espresso Muffins
Ingredients
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon cocoa powder
- 1 teaspoon espresso powder (instant)
- 1 tablespoon baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 cup sugar
- 1 1/4-1/2 Non-dairy Milk of your choice
- 1 Flax Egg (1 tablespoon ground flaxseed mixed with 3 tablespoon water, rest for 10 minutes)
- 1/4 cup Vegan Mayo
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- 3/4 cup chocolate chips (Enjoy Life brand if non-dairy)
Directions
- Step 1 Preheat oven to 400 and line muffin tin with muffin liners or spray generously with cooking spray.
- Step 2 In a large bowl whisk together dry ingredients. Set aside.
- Step 3 In second bowl. whisk together wet ingredients.
- Step 4 Gently add wet ingredients to dry and stir until just combined (batter will be slightly lumpy).
- Step 5 Add more milk if the batter is too thick. (may depend on the type of egg you use)
- Step 6 Gently fold in the chocolate chips.
- Step 7 Fill each muffin cup approximately 3/4 full.
- Step 8 Bake for 18-20 minutes or until they spring back lightly to the touch.
- Step 9 Enjoy!
Welcome to BurntToast! My name is Meaghan, and this is my safe space, a place where we can share stories, share recipes and share life. It’s my dream that you can come here, kick your shoes off and pour yourself a glass of wine while you read, laugh, and maybe even hop into the kitchen. This is my heart, for all of you to see. And ALL are welcome here.