Food just tastes better outdoors. Breathing fresh air, drunk on sunshine and a slight breeze . . . I love a picnic. An al fresco repast can be as simple as cheese, bread & charcuterie, but if I can find Read on!
I was going to make panzanella, and I wanted plump, voluptuous, vine-ripe tomatoes, warm from the sun, with winey juices and the sweet-tart flavors that only good soil, careful tending and hours of sunlight can create. Unfortunately, in the summer Read on!
I have a lot of cookbooks. Some people might consider that an understatement, especially my husband, who has hauled them from house to house a ridiculous number of times, but I feel like I can never have enough. I sleep Read on!
I heard Stephanie’s laugh before I ever laid eyes on her. Thomas and I had just moved to Austin; we’d read about Dai Due supper clubs, and, intrigued, decided to attend one at Rain Lily Farm. Poking around this magical Read on!
Late spring, 1981. Sitting on the side of the pool at the YMCA, the sound of distant thunder in the background, whispering through gritted teeth, “Please don’t rain, please don’t rain, please, please don’t rain.” The skies grew darker with Read on!
When I was little, we lived right around the corner from a small grocery store called Jack’s Pak-It, owned by the Fertittas, a close-knit Italian family completely to blame for my lifelong obsession with grocery stores. In the early 1970’s, Read on!
Who says there’s no such thing as terroir in America? Claims of culinary authority abound: “My wife is from Maryland, and she is very picky about crabcakes.” “I lived in New York for 10 years. I know bagels.” “That’s not Read on!
There’s something about the competitive nature of professional cooking that turns me off. Sure, I held my own though years of smack-talk and innuendo in restaurant kitchens, yelling and flying food, and burns worn like badges of honor, but none Read on!
Twine, butterflies, quill pens, little worms, wheels, snails shells, little ears, angel hair, twins, radiators, cocks’ combs, shoestrings, little tongues, wood knots, little sparrows, rifles, and priest-stranglers. An accounting of the goods and customers in a post-apocalyptic rag and bone Read on!