Bake with abandon!
Muhammara (pronounced moo-hahm-MRAH) is a classic Mediterranean dish. It’s a dip. It’s a spread. It’s addictive. You have been warned. Pitas are the authentic accompaniment, but I’ve been gobbling muhammara on homemade piadinas to no ill effect. Don’t let the simplicity of the dish fool …
Dizzy. If I were to sum up childhood summers in one word, it would be dizzy. Dizzy from spinning in endless circles on the tire swing. Dizzy from chasing each other round and round and round the yard. Dizzy from watching the leaves sway as …
I know better than to go shopping without a list. I have at least three iPhone apps to help me compile them. Pads of paper cling to the fridge simply so I can jot down items as I deplete their inventory. Lists prevent wastage, overstocking …
One rainy summer day, unable to build blanket forts on the climbing bars or soar through the sprinkler on a tire swing, I decided my younger sister and I should do some baking. “Baking” meant raiding Mom’s pantry and dumping everything within reach into a …
The first Mother’s Day gift I made was a card. It had a flower and stars and kittens on it because I was obsessed with flowers and stars and kittens. Mom was allergic to two of these, but I was young and unable to fully …
I got myself into this and I’m going to get myself out. I did not, repeat not, acquire a one-trick pony of a pan. I could point you to the Indian, Thai, Korean and Japanese variations of the aebleskiver, but really, they’re all just spins on batter …
To paraphrase from Nigella Lawson’s latest book Nigellissima: Easy Italian-Inspired Recipes, this dish is “verdiglorious.” Green basil, green beans, and green pistachios all come together in a “riot” of a pesto dish. What it lacks in authenticity, it more than makes up for in colour …
Fool me once, shame of you. Fool me twice (a dozen times), shame, shame, double-shame on me. It took years, but I learned my lesson. No Newspaper Recipes. None. Do not clip them for me. I will throw them out. Do not make them for …
I seriously miscalculated the potato requirement for last night’s dinner. Maybe I was distracted by the dishwasher that kept telling me the intake/drain needed my attention. Maybe I got a little pre-occupied trying to remember where I had hidden Andrew’s birthday present. Either way, I …