Water, water, everywhere! To worship the wettest Wednesday we’ve seen in New York, I decided to whip up this watery dish for the weekend. [Signal applause for alliteration.] In all seriousness, though, we had one whale of a washout!
Not really, silly. The word “Manhattan” here, of course, simply stands in for “tomato-based,” and though there may be who-knows-how-many similar vegetable soups enjoyed on the island of Manhattan, mine has never graced its turf. Yet while I may be slightly offish about Manhattan, I am not adverse to clams; my boyfriend is. Like relationships, it’s funny how some recipes begin: I had a craving for something soupy this week. (Most people I know avoid hot soups like the plague … Read More
Sometimes I just want to retreat to a vegetable paradise. Where I can, you know, peel potatoes in a grass skirt and roll around in fields of cornsilk to the tunes of Cat Stevens. I get this feeling especially after visiting a midsummer farmers’ market, soaking in the blissful variety and radiance of all the produce. It’s not so much a sensation of hunger that I get as it is of admiration and awe, similar to visiting a museum. That … Read More
Three words: Smoked Monterey Jack. A creamy composite of dove-complexioned tenderness on the inside, roughed up to a bronze smokehouse char on the outside. Not as piquant as smoked cheddar, or slightly spongy like smoked Gouda. It’s more like a mouthful of pure, cool summer barbecue breeze, the kind that wafts into your window from the neighbors’ yard and tantalizes you like crazy because you’re not invited.
Last week I reached for a jar on the back of the refrigerator door, knocked over the marinated artichoke hearts — the cap must have been lazily placed on top rather than screwed on — and spilled artichoke juice all over three shelves and the floor of the fridge. It didn’t smell half bad. Tonight, I intentionally did much the same to this simple spinach salad — that is, didn’t bother whisking up any dressing. Nada. It wasn’t half bad, … Read More
Two summers ago it was a bar on Columbia St., at the “edge of Cobble Hill,” called the B61 that I went to every spare happy hour I had and ordered a tall pint glass of bartender Jamie’s magnificent Bloody Marys. Two parts homemade Bloody Mary mix heavy on the horseradish, one part vodka, a splash of Guinness straight from the tap, spice seasoning on the rim of the glass, cracked black pepper at the bottom, three olives speared with … Read More
Who says the Fourth of July can’t be red, white, green, yellow, orange, purple and blue? This quick chip and dip snack is an easy fix for barbecue-bringing, and it can be improvised with almost any veggies you might have on hand. Sure, it might not look as bright and pretty in that abstract expressionist painting way as a strictly veggies-only salsa, but white beans go a long way and sure do make one smooth, almost creamy base.
Hear me out: I acknowledge global warming. I am sitting in my apartment with two fans on glued to this chair and have ice cubes in my cheeks like a squirrel hoarding nuts. Did they say global humidifying is upon us as well, or is it just these couple of days we’re having in the hellishly hot tri-state area?
I’m taking Arthur’s advice this month and eating plenty of asparagus while they’re in season. In fact, I owe so much to the erudite and challenging wisdom he’s extended me that I had even considered blending this vegetable with strawberries (the other food he mentioned is best in June) in a salad, and took this idea for a good mental romp in the park, but ultimately, I chickened out on the big kid slide. For now.
There’s always those nights when I’m craving something that feels like it’s from a greasy take-out restaurant. My creations never, thankfully, end up quite as greasy, and I hope it stays that way. I’m not sure that I would even know how to make food as greasy as some restaurants do — is it not trimming globs of fat from meat? Cooking in copious amounts of oil oil slathering butter and mayonnaise from a greasy wand with reckless abandon, like … Read More