Classics for a Reason

Sometimes old recipes kick around catering menus for so long, it makes me think, "What is the point of even making that anymore?" Aren't there any new ideas? Can't we come up with something better?

Then I make the recipe and realize, no, maybe we can't.

The Flavor is Unusual

I always say I could never be a vegetarian. But honestly? If there were enough mushrooms, cheese and Shanghai mock duck involved, I probably could be. When my Sidekick and I first started dating, I asked him - as every one of his predecessors had been asked - if there were any foods he didn't like to eat. And I mean, let's be honest, this is a trick question. This question only gets asked so that I can force you to try your worst gustatory enemies in a way that will make you forgive them. My Sidekick's answer: beets, mushrooms, Jello. Since that day, he has declared beets to be one of his favorite foods, never balks at a mushroom and still despises Jello. We're getting there.

Oh, and Cream Cheese

There is something about the color combination of pink and green that has always owned my heart. My first ever bikini was pink and green. I have always loved cutting into a watermelon. My birthday cakes almost invariably had pink flowers with pale green leaves. In these late days of winter and early spring, I can often be found in hot pink rain boots and a ridiculously over-sized green scarf. It's an illness. And it's not going away any time soon. This is all to say that the recipe for Stuffed Radishes I really appealed to me.

And Then Sometimes, You Really Need a Sandwich

As everyone around me knows, I get really hard to deal with in March. It's cold when it should be warm, winter when it should be spring and we have more potatoes and parsnips when we should have ramps and asparagus. I get antsy, what can I say? So, sometimes, when you're eating lunch at your desk because somehow you are the person someone agreed should be in charge of budget data entry every two weeks (believe me, I don't know why either) something as simple and lovely as the cross-section of your Lenny's sandwich can really brighten your day.

Bacon, Tomato, Butter

There is something so charming about the name of this canape: Bacon and Tomato Canapes II. It sort of indicates that, yes, there is another bacon and tomato canape in this book that includes mayonnaise and eggs and olives. But BTCII gets straight to the heart of what you most desire. Bacon, tomato and butter. And on this particular evening, we were fortunate enough to have Mangalitsa bacon. 

A Pretty Good Reason to Marry Someone

In our circle, it's a pretty well known fact that my Sidekick makes a mean cocktail. However, he has a dirty little secret: he also makes a pretty great little movie.

This cocktail, the Negroni for Wimps, is made with Campari's slightly less jaded sister, Aperol. It is lightly sweet, extremely refreshing and has me even more anxious for spring to arrive. I mean, just looking at those ice cubes makes me want to be in flip flops.

So, without further ado, please enjoy the reason I must constantly make snacks. To keep us from getting too drunk.

Crazy for breakfast: H-to-the-uevos

There are days when New York City is particularly unforgiving. Days when commutes are long and choked with people. Days when the wind whips around buildings like a freight train and blows your umbrella in half. Days when cabs splash you with puddles of dubious composition as they drive past. Those are the days when I miss certain niceties about New Mexico, which for better or worse, is a place where people will still hold the door for you and smile at you without asking you for money or directions.

Those are the days when simmering a big pot of red chile to pour over things feels most imperative to me. And, because my obsession with breakfast becomes increasingly intense with each passing weekend morning, this particular giant pot of red chile was meant for huevos.

This is How We Learn

Oy. You guys.

A brief survey: Have you ever been so excited to cook something, so meticulous about its pairing and preparation and so trepidatious about screwing it up that when you do, somehow, screw it up you have to sit down on the floor of the kitchen and practice yoga breathing in order to not explode into a fit of toddler-like proportions?

Is this just me? Because that is exactly what happened with the beautiful Mangalitsa pork chops I was going on and on about just the other day. They look so harmless here, nestled in their bed of Brussels sprouts, poised to ruin my evening.