There was recently an intervention in my kitchen. Though its not as dramatic as I make it sound, it was much needed. It wasn’t over the half dozen disks of pastry and cookie dough in the fridge, or the fact that other than milk, eggs, olives and cheese all we have in the fridge is pastry and cookie dough. Or that we have a solid dozen types of cheese and a half dozen containers of Parmesan alone. I know that I just sent chills down the spines of the cheese connoisseurs among us. I’m not proud of the way I treat cheese, and I promise to work on it. But no, the aforementioned intervention was over what I was calling dinner three to four nights a week.Read More
We’ll its November. The air is chilly, it gets downright cold at night and in the morning our giant windows are frosted. We tricked and treated. We’ve set our clocks back and the skies darken now before six o’clock. Since our coats have become an essential part of our wardrobe I no longer feel guilty about powering up our oven and roasting vegetables for every meal, especially lunch.Read More
“What IS that?” Asks oliver, pointing to my dark green stalks of celery. I can already see the little wheels in his head working on a plot to escape with a stalk or two to transform into a D-I-N-O. “That’s celery, it’s a very tasty vegetable,” I say.
“Is it FOOD?” he follows up. “It is,” I say. “Who eats that?” he continues, “Well, I like to eat it,” I say. “And who else?” he persists. “I think your Dad eats celery.” “And who else?” he persists. The answer he’s looking for is The Wonder Pets. The Wonder Pets eat celery. I could name a hundred people that eat celery, but all Oliver cares to know about celery is that it can be pet food. And I know he’s not alone in his under-appreciation of celery. It’s generally treated with indifference, used for stocks and a nice mirepoix, rarely is it set out on a pedestal and loved in its own right.
I know what your thinking. Two salads in a row, it looks suspiciously like a trend. Lest you fear I’m getting boring, or this space is in danger of becoming a venue for raw green things only, I feel I must assure you that I’ve got a half dozen sweet treats in the works, pies and tarts and cookies. It is fall afterall! That means baking. And all this baking means one thing – salads for lunch.Read More
A few years ago I became obsessed with eating kale salads, lacinato kale salads to be precise. Nothing fancy, just kale, sliced thin, doused in meyer lemon juice and sprinkled with parmesan, maybe salt and pepper; later incarnations included fried almonds and sunflower seeds. I would pile it all in a big bowl, offer D a serving, which he would politely decline, and proceed to eat the entire bowl. Night and night, bite after bite, finishing always with an extra sweet and crunchy forkful, feeling completely satisfied and happy. All that lemon juice does a wonderful thing to your palate- it cleanses it.Read More
Two weeks ago when we were making the long drive home from Ohio, we took a slight detour through western Kentucky. As our drive twisted and turned through the Knobs of Kentucky, signs of autumn were all around us. Shades of rust were creeping into the rolling hills, the sun sank into the horizon a little earlier, and as it did, it bathed buttery yellow light on signs for caverns, distillery tours and the occasional junk shop that time forgot. Farmers’ markets stalls were overflowing with pumpkins and apples and cider. It was all really gorgeous – a perfect introduction to a southern fall.
While I’m a bit sad about the beautiful summer produce that has passed on, I couldn’t be more anxious for fall. For shorter days to be dressed up in soups and sweaters, pizzas and spiked ciders, to be capped with evening walks to marvel at the changing trees. Last weekend we decided to act quite fall-like and took Oliver to an apple orchard in northern Georgia. This far south the leaves haven’t quite changed yet, but that hasn’t stopped the apples from falling.Read More