Sure, IвЂ™ve always coveted more books than is healthy and any foray to the bookstore inevitably found me buried in the food and drink section, but practical constraints limited my purchasing power: I moved around too much, I didnвЂ™t have the money for glossy new books, and anyway I didnвЂ™t always trust myself to be able to pick out a good one from a few short minutes of browsing. Like everyone who finds themselves much further down the slippery slope of addiction than they ever thought theyвЂ™d be, I used to assume the problem would work itself out, and for many years it pretty much did.

ItвЂ™s getting to the point where I walk in the door at night prepared to find my friends assembled for an intervention (at which IвЂ™m perfectly prepared to admit my problem, so whatвЂ™s the use of staging one?). According to reputable medical websites IвЂ™ve been reading, it seems I am displaying many of the classic symptoms of addiction when it comes to these books, including uncontrolled cravings, obsessive thought, overspending and paranoia. In fact, I seem to have a cookbook habit that is stealthily taking over my life, not to mention every inch of available space in my apartment. ItвЂ™s not shoes or makeup or handbags, or even little jars of fancy salts, sauces or vinegars вЂ“ itвЂ™s cookbooks. Many of you already know about my shopping problem. From my perspective, the biggest problem with food blogging вЂ“ I mean apart from the grocery bills and grease smears on the camera and damage to my vision from staring into a computer screen until I see cross-eyed вЂ“ is the shelf space required.

Recipes for food addicts anonymous