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One of the things I love most about writing a food blog is that people come out of the woodwork with their best and most cherished recipes. I don’t know if they want a moment in this small spotlight, they entrust me, as an “expert” (read full article)
The first meal you cook in a new kitchen feels portentous. As if the success or failure of all future culinary endeavors rests on the results of that one meal. It shouldn’t be too simple, or too fancy. You don’t want too much room for (read full article)
I don’t really understand the marketing of Mother’s Day. I see all these floral pastel cards and delicate lacy handkerchiefs and early morning breakfast in bed and advertisements for “brunch” and “afternoon tea” (read full article)
I grew up in the kitchen. From a tender age, I watched my mother cook dinner every night, and began “helping”, by stirring a sauce here, adding a pinch of herbs there. But soon I began branching out on my own. I have a very clear mem (read full article)
Back in the day when I lived in New York, I was more than a little homesick. I pined and yearned for my home state of California, and pounced on everything I could find that reminded me of home. I wore flipflops at the very first sign of spring in (read full article)
I was roasting a chicken the other night, and I realized that I’ve never posted a roast chicken recipe on my blog, which I really should. It’s my go to Sunday night supper, one we have at least once or twice a month. It’s elegan (read full article)
The summer after I graduated from college, I took off for Europe. I wasn't living the bohemian life with a backpack and a Eurail pass (Quel horreur!), I was traveling with my parents and about 30 college juniors on a summer program for my mom's un (read full article)
I don't come from a place where chili is a thing. Heck, I'm from California -- we put barbecue chicken on pizza. We don't have things. What this means is that I don't have firm and fixed ideas about what should and shouldn't be in chili, and as (read full article)
When you're cooking dinner for your family every night, it's easy to get into a rut and/or run out of ideas (yes, even if you're a food blogger. I often panic when I sit down to make my weekly grocery list, then I start by looking through cookbook (read full article)
Meatloaf is the butt of many jokes. I suppose it starts with the name -- meat loaf is not exactly appetizing what with the lack of specificity as to the meat and the rather solid Anglo-Saxon stodge of "loaf. Then you move on to the appearance -- (read full article)
Hosting Thanksgiving dinner can be awfully anxiety producing. First, there's the worry about seating logistics - is your table big enough for your number of guests? Do you have enough chairs? (Here's a tip -- don't seat anyone who has graduated f (read full article)
The advent of fall is subtle here in Los Angeles. We don't get the fire of autumn leaves, serving as a beacon, or the sudden damp and chill, requiring rainboots and peacoats. We tend to put our heads down during the fires and Santa Ana winds of S (read full article)
I like to pack my own lunch. Yes, I'm giving up the social hour at work, but frankly the lunch offerings in my neighborhood tend to pale in comparison to what gets produced in my own kitchen. I wish I could say that it's because I'm an amazing c (read full article)
I am often asked where I learned to cook. I am someone who cooks regularly, and enthusiastically and sometimes even ambitiously, so I suppose this is a simple and obvious question. But the answer is multilayered. I learned to cook from my family (read full article)
I am often asked where I learned to cook. I am someone who cooks regularly, and enthusiastically and sometimes even ambitiously, so I suppose this is a simple and obvious question. But the answer is multilayered. I learned to cook from my family (read full article)
I like to to say I'm a California girl born and bred, but when I hit the tender age of seventeen I was ready for anything but. I wanted away from brown hills and palm trees, dry desert air and eternal sunshine. So when I graduated from high school (read full article)
I like to to say I'm a California girl born and bred, but when I hit the tender age of seventeen I was ready for anything but. I wanted away from brown hills and palm trees, dry desert air and eternal sunshine. So when I graduated from high school (read full article)
There's something wonderfully retro about a sloppy joe in a 1950's Americana kind of way. You can imagine not Betty Draper (God Forbid she cook anything as plebeian as a sloppy joe) but her PTA peers serving sloppy joes to their fresh scrubbed ki (read full article)
There's something wonderfully retro about a sloppy joe in a 1950's Americana kind of way. You can imagine not Betty Draper (God Forbid she cook anything as plebeian as a sloppy joe) but her PTA peers serving sloppy joes to their fresh scrubbed ki (read full article)
It can't possibly be September already. Wasn't it just Easter? What happened to the Fourth of July? I was going to spend this summer at the beach (yep, still milky white here), drinking mint iced tea (I think I made one pitcher), and lounging po (read full article)
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