The tomatoes were turning on me. A few weeks ago they were red and rosy, destined for a starring role in a BLT. Now, I'm not sure if they can withstand the scrutiny of the spotlight. They are still light years beyond what appears during the winter here in the Midwest, but not quite the ones you can slice up, sprinkle with salt, and eat raw. I kind of wish I would have known this before I bough...
Those on a diet should click away now. Those left will have their heart beat just a few ticks faster when these are finally removed from the oven, and even faster once the oil starts pumping through your system...
Barbara Kafka loves these, and we love her from creating them. They are horrible for your health, use just a little less butter than a hollandaise, and look like burnt, mushy,...
Saturday and Sunday of this weekend were among the best days this year, second only, perhaps, to last Saturday, the proclaimed "Day of the Year" by Manhattan Users Guide with a delightful essay about the joys of walking New York's streets. Call this post the Brooklyn Users Guide--our own Day of the Year--spent soaking in a day dry and warm in the sun, cool and breezy in the shade.
Gnocchi. No idea. For years this has been the unpronounceable dish on the menu that starred me down and begged to be blurted out to the uproarious laughter of the seasoned waiter. "Did you hear what he just said?" Hell, I didn't have any idea what it was. Was it a type of pasta? Dumpling? Did it have a filling? This feeling of inadequacy kept the recognizable dish on the menu page...
Food photography is an obsessive business. Pictures are alluring, appetizing, what make somebody want to try the recipe. There are times when, obsessed by lighting, aperture, and focus, we forget about the actual eating part. Look at that piece of meat. See the grains? Looks good, eh? Trust us, it was succulent. There's nothing quite like a warm salad in the winter, sharp, crispy...
With minds planted firmly in the dirt, we probed the...
With minds planted firmly in the dirt, we probed the starchy tuber for secrets buried within, all in search of the perfect cooked potato. Armed with a bag of $2.99 Idahos, we set aflame preconcieved notions, sexed things up, and tried to find the courage (and stomachs) to eat nothing but potatoes like our poor brethren of the 19t...
