Iโm back on the wagon of tackling the recipes in theย bulging files of recipes that Iโve been collecting and hanging on to for the past thirty years. Many pre-date the internet and were from food magazines (made of paper) that I subscribed to. A surprising number of the savory recipes have the words โadoboโ or โchipotle,โ and โporkโ in the title, so if I everโฆ
Thanksgiving is (kinda) just around the corner and you can check out this round-up of Thanksgiving Recipes here on the blog. Rather than getting all stressed out, though, maybe think of making lessโฆand having more fun. As a French friend once told me, โWe donโt go out to eat for the food. We go out to be with our friends.โ Another friend in Paris toldโฆ
Some say that the French can be very narrow in their definitions of things, which is why traditional French cuisine can be so simple, yet spectacular; because the classics donโt get messed with. Other cuisines, however, do get modified to local tastes, like les brochettes de bลuf-fromage, or beef skewers with cheese, at les sushis restaurants, popcorn available as salty or sweet (!?), and whileโฆ
When I moved to Paris, almost immediately I went looking for a tarte Tatin mold. The one Iโd bought years ago in Paris, Iโd left back in San Francisco. I suppose couldโve packed it with me, for its third overseas journey but that would be one heck of a carbon footprint for a simple little pan, wouldnโt it? So I went to my least-favorite kitchenwareโฆ
What do you do with a fruit whoโs flesh is gritty and rock-hard, inedibly astringent when raw, and as vexing to slice through as a tough olโ catcherโs mitt? No one seems to know what to do when they happen upon some quince at the market. The gnarly-looking fruits seem as if theyโve just been plucked from a medieval centerpiece, surrounding by medlars and split-openโฆ
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