May 29, 2011
I've never escorted the Nutella-toast crowd to Italy. But we did stop at Eataly, the Manhattan eatery owned by Mario Batali (and friends).
May 15, 2011
Out to dinner recently, a popover popped onto my plate.
April 10, 2011
Drop that pen. Hands off the keyboard. Back away from the phone. Don't bother. Do not compose the macaron lament.
Haman, legend has it, was a bad guy who wore a bad hat. He is remembered and reviled on the holiday Purim in story, song and snack. Rare is the leader — good or bad — who has a pastry named for his hat.
Bread gets along well with the knife. A serrated one for slicing and a blunt one to handle the buttering. Perhaps a slotted one for trimming cheese to suit. Bread has no need for fork, or spoon.
Rules is rules. And the baker is advised to follow them. Should she care to produce a tender and tasty tart, she will mind the pate sablee rulebook.
The persimmon caught my eye, just when I was packing up the sweet potatoes and arugula.
Salt cod is a Christmas specialty, somewhere. So at Christmastime I bought a brick. I stuck it in the back of the fridge, remembering that it's supposed to keep forever.
Kitchen and chicken are practically the same thing, at least to the dyslexic and the hungry.
The holidays call for the holiday party, and the holiday party calls for toffee. The imported sort, coated with dark chocolate and dusted with praline.
The sages claim: What goes around, comes around. And you find this observation true.
The housing collapse is discouraging, especially during the festive season, when so many of us are trying to keep the gingerbread house standing.