I’m having a moment of schadenfreude at the recent backlash I’ve seen at the organic foods/eco movement. Or well, not precisely schadenfreude, but the warm glow that comes with seeing someone get a little of the comeuppance you’ve thought they’ve deserved for several years. Read the rest of this entry ?
I like old cookbooks for the same reason that other people like horror movies. It’s that frisson of terror you get at the thought of what might be waiting at the bottom of the stair, or what fresh culinary horror could be lurking at the turn of the page. I find Norman Bates’ smiling slyly and saying, “Mother isn’t quite herself today,” and recipes that call for cans of condensed cheddar soup to be equally terrifying. Read the rest of this entry ?
What I wanted was asparagus, so what I bought was a pineapple. No wait, I swear this makes sense. Maybe it doesn’t make strictly logical sense but there was a train of thought that lead from one to the other. Read the rest of this entry ?
Sometimes you come across a recipe that involves every ingredient in the kitchen and has seventeen steps and you know it will be fantastic because in the end you’ll have created something rich and decadent with layers upon layers of flavor – for example Coq au Vin requires marinating and straining and browning and braising and straining the sauce again, just about every dish in the cupboard and the end result is like liquid sin. Read the rest of this entry ?
Monday Night Dinner 