Archive for October, 2011

Crispy Caramelized Brussels Sprouts over Miso Lime Noodles

October 25, 2011

In a Facebook exchange asking my friends for fiction recommendations, (I fear that reading fiction has been elevated/relegated(?) to “bucket list” level for me) a few people could not help but recommend a nonfiction book, Seabiscuit. It got “best book I’ve ever read” declarations and my friend Katy remembered how it was “so good, so stimulating, that I had to sometimes put it down to let my heart rate slow.” She got it. That’s what I was looking for.

There is nothing like creativity to inspire creativity.

If good writing inspires, good cooking definitely does the same thing. And when I go to a restaurant, it is less of a utilitarian exercise of satiating hunger than a desire to be inspired. Others visit galleries. I visit restaurants.
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Missed Connections – P4F

October 24, 2011

When I was living in NY, my train was the F train, which rivals only the L train on mentions in Missed Connections. The “Flirty Train” it was known then {gag}. And urban legend had it that if you want some 15 minutes of blind ad fame on Craig’s List, stay on the first car. And make sure you don’t have stray spinach on your teeth. Someone might be checking you out, already thinking about what his witty little CL entry will be.
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I love Plov

October 13, 2011

I’m a fan of one pot meals. Who isn’t?

This is one heck of a one-pot meal from my friend, Jennet (again, she of the Easy Access Cookies fame). Its her vegan version of a traditional dish she grew up with in Turkmenistan. In fact, I love it so much I feel like I grew up with it.
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Comfort Me With Pancakes (and Why Sundays Are Sacred)

October 2, 2011

I write this on a Sunday, on a plane ride back home from a business trip that overtook my weekend. A Sunday I begrudgingly gave to “work.”

Sunday is usually family day at home. When I was growing up, the same was true. On Sundays – after a late breakfast, we would dress in “Sunday” clothes and go to church in the late morning. After church, we would often eat out at a place with some swank – where my brothers and I would proceed to eat ’til our bellies ached – then spend the afternoon walking the shops, grocery shopping or seeing our cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents. I would always be a little sad when the sun would start to set. I look back on this Sunday ritual very fondly, in that faraway pastoral lens that we see some of our memories through. I want the same thing for my kids. I want my kids to remember rituals as anchors of their childhood. I think it’s important that they know that while life ebbs and flows and waves carry us in many different directions, there are traditions and rituals that bring us back to shore – where we can pause for a moment, impervious to the waves.
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