"Sugar and me, we go way back. I love sugar. LOOOOVVVVVE it. I love everything about it: how it makes little occasions special and special occasions fabulous. How it performs hot bubbling magic on sour fruits, like rhubarb and gooseberries, to make the most succulent and mind-blowing pies and jams. And don't even get me started on chocolate."
My poor mother.
Growing up, I tormented both parents. Criminally lazy, I did my very few chores only after the threat of bodily harm. I took evil delight in pushing my brother’s buttons (most of which I’d installed). I’d try to see how many kids I could drive with in my 1971 Dodge Dart Swinger, Lancelot (the record stands at 11). My religion was “Question Authority.”
It's been more than half a century since the theory -- yes the theory -- was floated that saturated fats caused heart disease, and food manufacturers slowly started to remove fat. In the 1990s you watched as "Low Fat" and No Fat" started popping up on grocery store shelves like dandelions in a field.
He was quiet, wore glasses and was the kind of redhead that ran a real risk of bursting into flame when exposed to the sun. He was also one of the smartest, and most talented kids in our class.
Ladies and germs — we have an authentic Christmas miracle.
I’ve mentioned before how impossible is it to get Petey to choose our evening meal. I get bupkis, neither by spontaneous utterance, nor when he’s prodded by a spouse who shall not be named.
It's all been a big fat, supersized lie.
When I write a column, it’s a careful dance.
When you think of summer produce, which vegetable or fruit first comes to mind? Corn? Watermelon? Tomatoes?
I'd wager that Swiss chard isn't anywhere in your top 10 ... or even your top 20.
Swiss chard zipped across my radar when my CSA (community supported agriculture) box arrived the other week. Inside was a big bag filled with chard and all its colorful stems; yellow, pale green, magenta and red. Chard's leaves look like spinach, only larger.
I’ve done it a total of three times.
The first time was like being flung out of a giant slingshot. The next two were more gentle and gradual. The final time it lasted six hours.
Many people do it alone, but being a novice I always did it with another person.
Right now I have eight medium-to-large zucchini in my refrigerator just waiting for me to decide their ultimate fate. Why? I joined Maple Spring Gardens CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) in Cedar Grove, this spring.
Yeah, I could act like a grownup and stoically deal with the summer heat and humidity. But whining and moaning like a big sweaty baby is how I live my truth.
It's so tempting to write that Michael Ruhlman's newest book "Egg: A Culinary Exploration of the World's Most Versatile Ingredient," (Little Brown, 2014) is egg-actly the book you need. Cute.
Break out the shorts, T-shirts and swimsuits, warmer weather's here and some folks are doing their best to figure out how to be both healthy and look their best.
Here's some assistance.
When it comes to ice cream, I generally feel it's hard to improve on a simple scoop right out of the carton. But this time my mind has turned to baked Alaska. I know... How retro!
Baked Alaska once was the star dessert of cruise ship dining rooms and upscale restaurants. The classic recipe called for vanilla ice cream enrobed in sponge cake, lavishly frosted with meringue, then lightly browned in a high-heat oven. At the last moment, it was doused in alcohol and set on fire. The waiter would emerge from the kitchen and parade around the room holding the star of the evening aloft. Now that's showbiz!
When I was in high school, there was a story about one of the coaches, Coach P. Another coach took a honey bun off his desk and ate it.
When Coach P found out what had happened, he picked up the thief by his shirt, held him against the wall of the office, and growled a warning.