You’ll have to bear with me (or rather, I hope you’ll bear with me) these next two weeks, because I’m a bit, well, busy.
Between moving out, moving to a temporary apartment, moving my copious amounts of “stuff” to a storage closet, finding a new apartment, applying for the new apartment, finding a full-time [read more ...]
I sat in the back seat of a black car and let the driver navigate the 5 o’clock traffic into the city. I was surrounded by stuff – my stuff, or the little of it I’d allowed myself to take to my temporary home on the Upper East Side. I’d rather have waited [read more ...]
… If they knew we were putting creme fraiche in our risotto.
Last night at the French Culinary Institute, we made fresh pasta, risotto, rice pudding and potato gnocchi. These are all things I loved to eat before I started at FCI – all things I used to make for myself on a regular basis. [read more ...]
Crepes for Two
1 cup all-purpose flour, sifted
Pinch salt
Pinch sugar
1 1/4 cup whole milk
3 eggs
1 peach, halved and sliced thinly
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon brown sugar
Melted butter, for cooking crepes
In a large bowl, combine flour, salt and sugar. Form a well in the middle of the dry ingredients.
Break and beat the eggs in a separate bowl, then [read more ...]
When my roommate told me she was moving back home to Syracuse to take some personal time after a crazy summer in the city, I knew that the next month would be a trying one. I first attempted to find a replacement roommate – but who wants to live with a stranger? Certainly not me. [read more ...]
My favorite kind of coffee is _____________ .
The following piece is not sexy.
It contains graphic and disturbing imagery, as per these posts.
This happened quite some time ago, and it is over, and it has not happened again, and I am okay and happy. And healthy. I realize that I have presented myself as a bulimia recovery spokeswoman, and that’s true – [read more ...]
At the farmer’s market yesterday, I made the man at the fish stall describe each piece to me. ”Swordfish, tuna, hake …” On and on it went; he had a variety.
“Hake?” I repeated when he was done. Hake was one of those fish I’d seen only in print – never had I dared to say [read more ...]
I knew, in some vague part of my mind, that there was a farmer’s market every Wednesday – a block from my apartment. But vague parts of the mind rarely manifest themselves unless prompted, and so I never went. Instead, I spent my Wednesday mornings reading the New York Times dining section in bed with [read more ...]
Perhaps it’s just me, but I don’t think that roasting whole chickens is as easy as everyone makes it out to be.
Food magazines and food writers pretend that it’s a snap – “Just flavor it, truss it, cook it, and voila! You’re done!” Now that I’ve been in school for a few months, I’ve roasted [read more ...]
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