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Ambitious Kitchen 2013: A Resolution for a Better You

Posted on January 21st, 2013

“What keeps me going is goals.” – Muhammad Ali “What keeps me going is the perfect balance of coffee and hard liquor.” – Heather Arndt Anderson   Aim for improved household economy by employing 19th-century domestic science. First step: monthly menu planning using a good old-fashioned bill of fare. Note to self: include more burritos and fewer veal brains than 19th-century bills of fare. Still on the fence about this whole “gluten” thing. Just in case, bake and consume at least one loaf of bread every week. You know, for the sake of science. Try a new recipe once a week. Instead of the internet, use one of the million or so cookbooks you already own. Note to self: resist urge to dropkick three…

On Eating, 2013

Posted on January 21st, 2013

Drink more water. Make stronger effort to take out the compost before third overflow bowl is necessary. Find tote bag large enough to smuggle the really big bag of Little Lad’s Herbal Corn into movie theater. Redeem self after “seared” tuna incident. Achieve automation with popovers. Like, going into oven while coffee brews automation. Memorize Food Network daytime schedule in order to plan strategic hanging out with grandma time. Aim for Paula Deen; avoid Rachel Ray. Continue to liberate phyto-brothers and sisters from the tyranny of corporate quality standards. Experiment with nettles. Buy second suction-cup soap dish shelf to put wine glass on in the shower. Also use it for coffee mug. Arrive home to aproned boyfriend just putting dinner on the table. Don’t…

Kitchen Resolutions 2013

Posted on January 21st, 2013

Make something irresistible with quinoa Rediscover beets…including golden Attempt making whole rye bread Have the patience to unpeel all those tiny shallots from CSA share Eat more popcorn Make dairy free toffee Eat the fruit you purchase, thoughts of eating it will not impart any health benefits

Resolutions for Inveterate Foodies — 2013 Worksheet (please print)

Posted on January 21st, 2013

In the year 2013, I resolve to . . . (check at least 3)   ___ . . . be nicer to people who drink blended Scotch.   ___ . . . admit that sour cream can substitute for crème fraîche.   ___ . . . stop insisting that gastropubs are “over.”   ___ . . . learn to say “grass fed” without smugly narrowing eyes and smirking.   ___ . . . eat quinoa less ostentatiously.   ___ . . . accept that waitresses may not know the exact latitude & longitude of the dollar oysters’ home waters.   ___ . . . refrain from lecturing on yeast ecology every time someone misuses the word “ale.”         ___ . .…

Henry Dreams of Barbecue (A Brooklyn Day)

Posted on January 21st, 2013

I am the Brooklyn guy. Just ask my friends. If I don’t have to leave Brooklyn, good luck getting me into Manhattan. Sometimes, I’ll visit friends in Queens and try a new restaurant there, but since life often requires New Yorkers to go into “The City” for business, school, and birthdays, I get more than my fill of that borough on those occasions. Besides, in a classic case of “anything you can do, I can do better,” Brooklyn has stuck its tongue out at its more densely populated neighbor to the west – and proven herself to be more than a mere braggart. Restaurants, museums, live music of every kind, huge parks – Brooklyn has all of that, plus pubs where the bartender will…

10 Justifications for Eating Out: A List of New Year’s Anti-Resolutions

Posted on January 21st, 2013

The new year is, for most, a time of self-improvement. It’s a time to break old patterns and cast away faults. A time to grow and change. But that’s never really been my style. I don’t jog, I don’t diet, I sometimes spend entire Saturday mornings watching 90210 reruns and…I’m okay with that. I often say that nothing tastes better than a plate of food cooked by someone else and, by god, we all know it’s the truth. I unapologetically love restaurant meals — from grubby diners to fancy cafes. But even I hear that inner neurotic voice, the one that whispers: A good homesteader would cook and bake from scratch, and not lust after that incredible lentil soup from that little cafe. Why…

Back In The U.S. (peanut butter edition)

Posted on January 21st, 2013

Ten things I resolve to stop taking for granted once I get back to the United States, food and beverage edition:  Peanut butter Drinkable tap water Safely consumable lettuce Peanut butter Good coffee (and I’m not even being picky here – by “good,” I mean “not instant”) Yogurt that isn’t pourable Bread with some sort of discernibly crust-like crust Bread of colors other than white (namely: various shades of brown) Vegetables that haven’t been frozen before appearing on my plate PEANUT BUTTER

Burnt Ends

Posted on January 3rd, 2013

New Year’s Eve celebrations in Orange, Massachusetts, involve a long parade of giant puppets through the center of town.  A farm truck  tows revelers playing Thin Lizzy loudly, and your shirt feels sleeveless, spiritually.  Your sideburns ghost down over your cheeks, regardless of your gender.  A friend has manned the sweaty interior of the broad-assed mayoral figurine in prior years–this year, he’s elsewhere, celebrating with others.  The fog grows in the streets. But the evening really begins in a parking lot, a church parking lot, where you eat mediocre Chinese food out of a bag in the front seat of a Honda Fit, double parked behind a minivan.  The New Year tastes like MSG.  The New Year is already giving you heartburn.  The New…

Without A Title

Posted on January 3rd, 2013

A gibbous smile on Dimpled skin Alight over fallow field Existence on tenterhooks As silhouette of subsequent orb For without celestial sol(stice) Tis’ But a visage of joy.   For two spheres tenable and unbound Pass in night Intrinsically juxtaposed Obstinate and flippant As the aubergines or butterflies.  

The Christmas Pudding

Posted on January 3rd, 2013

A thin veil of fear and mystery, like the snowy fog that half hides slick black tree trunks at the dark end of December, clings to the very mention of Christmas pudding. It rattles like a strange and bony relic of a past half forgotten, one of hams pierced a thousand times with the blunt brown tips of whole cloves, sideboards sagging with tawny port, Armagnac and Amontillado in bottles that glisten like crown jewels or the pride of a dragon’s hoard, and, in the kitchen, a sleeping beast at the bottom of a stockpot snoring on the stovetop since the first glint of Christmas dawn—the pudding itself, belching out clouds of steam so thick you could cut them with a trowel, and dreaming,…