Entries from The Amateur Gourmet tagged with 'tuna'
Gourmet Tuna Casserole
I found it. After my first attempt at tuna casserole, I finally found a worthy alternative. I was at the Community Book Store in Park Slope and there on the cookbook shelf was Andrew Carmellini's Urban Italian, a pretty dazzling book of recipes from the former chef of A Voce. I took the book to the grimy couch and sat down next to a cat, a dog and an iguana (this store has pets) and began flipping through it and there it was: "Ziti with Tuna, Red Onions and Cannelini Beans." Was it a casserole proper? Absolutely not. But it had many of the components of a tuna casserole--noodles, tuna, onions--and assembled them in a way that made much more sense to me. I quickly took out a pen and my secret little pad and copied down the recipe, hoping the iguana wouldn't rat me out to the store owners. On my walk home I picked up the ingredients and cracked my knuckles, ready for Italy to conquer America in the battle of noodles and tuna....
Tuna Noodle Casserole
The chat went something like this. Craig-At-Work: What's for dinner? Me-At-Home: I'm thinking of making a tuna noodle casserole. Craig-At-Work: Ugh. If I never eat a tuna noodle casserole again for the rest of my life, that'd be ok. Me-At-Home: Well I've never had one before so I'm going to make it, just for the sake of writing about it. [Silence.] Me-At-Home: Are you there? Hello? HELLO? Craig-At-Work is no longer online....
Lunch with Regina Schrambling at The New French
"I think people are afraid of me," said Regina Schrambling, creator of the web site Gastropoda, a site where she skewers food world personalities with loving names like "The Porcine Pantload," "The Human Scratch n' Match," and "The Drivelist." (I'm lucky I got away with "The Tyro" and now "The-Not-So-Tyro-Anymore.") To say that she writes with a poisoned pen would be a profound understatement; her prose is prickly and pointed, she's merciless in her attack of hypocrisy, idiocy, and corruption in the food world. Normally, to be polite, I'd say, "No, they're not afraid of you." But there, over lunch at The New French in The West Village, I had to concur. "Yes," I said. "I think people probably are afraid--though didn't you once refer to yourself as having retractable fangs?"...
