Cooking in general is a nice form of meditation for me. I appreciate the quiet moments standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup or a sauté pan full of bits of golden garlic. That is, of course, when I have the luxury of cooking in a leisurely manner. As one who works from home, I usually do have that luxury.Read More
Rain sluiced down in heavy sheets all day yesterday. “It’s like standing in the shower,” the woman next to me in the coffee shop this morning said to her friend as they debated whether to wait it out or make a run for it. We were crowded against the door, huddled together as people entered and exited, peeling off damp raincoats and stowing dripping umbrellas in the corner.Read More
This time of year is a favorite of mine. The weather is changing, but only slightly. The air is turning from the warm humidity of summer—the sort that feels swollen and supple and tangible almost—to the crispness of autumn. But it’s still warm enough to wear shorts and sit outside in the sun. Just yesterday I bought two pears and an apple at the farmers’ market, crunching on one as I walked the ten blocks to pick up my car from getting serviced.Read More
Eclairs always looked so darn fancy to me when I was little. Honestly, they seemed almost too fussy for a five-year-old with an extreme sweet tooth. Give me frosting! Give me an ice cream cone! Give me an entire g-d sleeve of Oreos and leave me alone for 20 minutes! But I like to think I've become far more mature and sophisticated in my ripe old age, and my appreciation for eclairs has deepened.Read More
On the subject of comfort food, my mother is really an expert. Sure, I'm biased, but I think anyone who took a bite of her creamy broccoli pasta or had a slice of her potato bread, warm from the oven with a pat of fresh raw milk butter melting on top, would agree. But beyond the broad strokes genre, the real definition of comfort food is unique to each of us—specific and tied to our own particular memories and experiences and places.