I’ve been wrestling with words lately, thinking of what to write, of what to tell you today. This happens when I get too sentimental. My blog just turned four. Yes, it’s been four years since I started writing. Two hundred seventy nine posts. Hundreds of recipes. Over three thousand email subscribers.

My blog means a lot to me, obviously. It is more than a cooking blog, more than a collection of recipes. It is a journal, a very personal one. It is a place where I go to write about what matters to me. About my mom whom I love dearly. About my late dad whom I wish I had better connected with. About Dennis and our life together. About where I am from. About who I am, about what I value.

A lot happened in the last four years. I went through so many changes. I left Silicon Valley, one of the most audacious decisions I’ve made in my life, then returned after nearly two years. I tried. I really tried. I blogged while I sorted things out, while I figured out what I can and cannot do, what I want to do. I promised myself to keep on writing. But there have been days — plenty of days, in fact — when all I want to do is anything but pick up the pen or pick up the camera. Days when all I want to do is quit because keeping my promise — keeping my blog — seems like a lofty idea.

But my blog is still here. With accolades to boot. I am still here. Four years later. Four years wiser, I hope. I’d like to believe I no longer write for the clicks and the comments. I no longer write for the thrill of the web’s fleeting attention. I’d like to believe I write simply because I want to. Because I inspire, I influence. Because I make lasting connections through food, through stories around food.

Thank you, my dear friends. The last four years have been good. More than good. They have opened opportunities. I don’t know where this leads, what lies ahead. Your friendship means the world to me and for this I will always be thankful.