I have a confession to make . . . my kitchen is filled with processed food. Pancake mix, frozen waffles, canned chicken broth, prepared breadcrumbs, canned tomatoes, frozen vegetables, and all manner of little jars and bags of “flavor enhancers.” 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!
My grandmother, a staunch conservationist and environmentalist way before it was cool, was also the most frugal person I ever knew. Famous for birthday cards that didn’t open–“Happy Birthday to a Girl Who’s . . . “–once you tear the 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!
Driving down 290 one wet, drippy day last winter, I noticed a warehouse, empty, abandoned, and desolate, with the word “wool” painted on the side, atmospherically faded, close to disappearing. We love that look in Austin–faded remnants of a rural, Read on!
1/2 cup French (small) green lentils 2 cups water 3/4 teaspoon salt 6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 1 large onion, finely chopped (2 cups) 1/4 teaspoon black pepper 3/4 pound kale (preferably Tuscan; sometimes labeled “lacinato”) 3/4 pound dried short Read on!
By Elizabeth Winslow “Change the station!” When my children are in the car, starving to death after school, the radio can be torture . . . “three all-beef patties sizzling on a fresh-baked, cheese and bacon-stuffed bun . . . Read on!
1# sweet potatoes, washed 4 Tbs. butter, softened 1 Tbs. white miso paste 3 sping onions, white and light green part only, minced Roast sweet potatoes at 450 until soft. Mix butter, miso, and scallions together until creamy. Split sweet 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!