February 2009
Cannellini Beans and Rice
After my sticky bun disaster, I need to redeem myself and redeem myself I shall with the picture you see above: that’s cannellini beans and rice, an improvised dinner I whipped up with just a few cheap ingredients in less than 20 minutes.
And it was good. Really good! What was so good about it? Let me tell you.
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Burnt Sticky Buns
What’s there to say when you burn your sticky buns? It’s a pretty unkind thing to do. On a Sunday morning, you pique everyone’s interest with rumors of sticky bun making; then you roll them, pop them in the oven, and fill the apartment with a wonderful smell. And then you burn them. What kind of a person are you? Not a very good one, I imagine.
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What I Ate On My 30th Birthday
My birthday always begins with the Angel of Food hovering over my bed and handing me a pass that says, “EAT FREELY,” which is not so much a mild suggestion, but an absolute imperative. There’s no “maybe I shouldn’t”s on my birthday–the word “shouldn’t” is verbotten, as is “mustn’t” and “oughtn’t” (is oughtn’t a word?)–my mission is a clear one: devour the city in 24 hours or less.
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“Baked” Oatmeal Cookies with Cardamom
The title of this post is a misrepresentation: the recipe I’m about to share does not advertise the fact that it contains cardamom. In fact, the recipe–from my new favorite baking book, Baked: New Frontiers in Baking–is titled “Oatmeal Cherry Nut Cookies,” a title that doesn’t mention cardamom at all.
But cardamom was what caught my eye as I decided to make these cookies for dessert last week at 11 PM; so much so, that I didn’t even stop when I realized I didn’t have nuts or dried cherries. Cardamom would carry the day and carry the day it did.
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Squid and Leeks in Red Wine
I’ve got a Valentine’s Day gift for you. It has a fancy French name–“Estouffade de Calmars aux Poireaux”–and it may be the most perfect thing for you to make tomorrow night as you try to seduce your Valentine.
What makes it so seductive? For starters, look at the color: a deep reddish/purple, it positively screams passion and romance. Secondly, the smell: there is no smell greater, in all of cooking, than the smell of red wine stewing away on the stove. And, finally, the effect: the resulting dish is quite satisfying, but not heavy at all. You’ll have so much energy for a post-dinner romp, even Cupid would blush at the result.
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What Makes A Great Steakhouse
1. It must be dark, like you’re underground. The consumption of red meat is such a primal, bodily act that darkness–like darkness in the bedroom–opens one up to experience pleasure with reckless abandon.
2. There must be a piano player with a bad toupee singing Neil Diamond songs or a cheesy duo of guitar player and female lounge singer doing their best cover of K.C. and the Sunshine Band. Even Edmund White, in his classic “A Boy’s Own Story,” describes such a figure when his family takes him to a steakhouse, “a place where the overweight ate iceberg lettuce under a dressing of ketchup and mayonnaise, steaks under A.1. sauce, feed corn under butter, ice cream under chocolate, where a man wearing a black toupee and a madras sports jacket bounced merrily up and down an electric organ while a frisky couple lunged and dipped before him in cloudy recollections of ancient dance steps.”
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The Radicchio Salad at Franny’s
We all get hammered over the head so often about fresh ingredients and using the best ingredients (“Use a really good olive oil,” says The Barefoot Contessa; “I make my own toothpaste,” says Alice Waters) that sometimes it’s easy to dismiss it all as snobby nonsense. Then you go to Franny’s, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite restaurants (and certainly the best restaurant near our apartment; it’s only two blocks away!) and order their radicchio salad and when it arrives and you take the first bite you’re struck speechless. What’s so awe-inspiring about it? Is it the execution? Is it the conception? No, you realize, it’s the ingredients.
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