WHILE GOOD FRIENDSHIP IS NOURISHING, sometimes it is also delicious. Such is the case with my bond with David Leite, whose humor and grace enriches my life, whose writing is simply divine, and whose cooking is damn good. You might know David through his two-time James Beard winning website, Leite’s Culinaria. (Leite, BTW, rhymes with eat. But of course). What you might not know, though, is that David is delicious fun to talk to, which is why when he asked me to make a memoir writing podcast with him, I lapped up the invitation. And I think I hooted. Yup. Hooted. That’s not on the podcast, though much else is. [Read more…]
A SIDE ORDER OF DISH is my favorite single ingredient in any cookbook. I mean I love it when people cook and tell. And therefore, I love memoir cookbooks. Don’t you?
WE’RE INTO TURKEY season, and you probably have more than a few recipes in your stash, as well as a few stories accompanying each recipe. And, if your recipes are like mine, some of them are better than others. Recently, in search of yet another method, I wiled away hours reading my mother-in-law’s recipe box. And whammo: What I found might shock you. [Read more…]
SEVEN INHERITED RECIPE BOXES make up my collection. I’ve had them with me now for so many years that I can remember at least four different places they’ve resided in my office, each for long periods of time. Amulets, icons–call them what you may–I always work with them in view; they are that important. And then recently, I discovered that they contain the code to life itself. [Read more…]
WHERE I COME FROM, the word “salad” means lettuce. Perhaps that lettuce will be accompanied by onions, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, crumbled cheese, or all of the above, but lettuce—and I believe I speak for all my homepeople when I say this—would be the foundation of all things “salad.” And, being a New Yorker, I went along thinking my way was the highway until fate stepped in and threw a man in my path some 23 years ago who, when he said “salad,” was speaking a different tongue. So we got married, and mixed things up. [Read more…]
OUR MOTHER DIDN’T cook. To be more specific, our mother was something of a spectacle in the kitchen, cooking a few things, always as dramatically a possible. The simple stuff eluded her: a chop, a steak, a baked potato. Instead, we got such offerings as Beef Wellington and once, memorably, reindeer meatballs. [Read more…]