Certain American dishes are best made for a crowd. Take, for instance, Brunswick stew and booya. They’re brewed most often in the fall, with a traditional base built on whatever a hunter brings home.
I discovered the medicinal benefits of apple pie while writing a book. It’s in the way the softened apples melt into a buttery crust and forms a kind of batting around the mind and a stilling weight to the body that almost always quiets any lingering residue of wattage that disturbs my rest.
This little fellow has gotten me through a lot of dark cooking disasters and life’s little challenges.
You can ask as many times as you want and use all the interviewing tricks you know but she won’t give you the recipe. “They’d go ahead and screw it up and then it’d be ‘oh, Ms. Johanna’s cake isn’t good at all,’ all over around here.”
As we head into the next two bloody months, we could use some semblance of faith we’ll pull through together in one piece.
There are tastes that linger in memory–good and bad, those you hunger for or avoid the rest of your life. My first bite of a fig is among the great ones.
When time and pressure is not in the cards, we’ve all secretly turned to market prepared tubs of something. There’s nothing wrong with this. Feeding people is not about killing yourself and, no matter what it is you’ve brought home, it can magically be turned into something especially your own.
What is not to love about watermelon? Unfortunately there is, falling in line with other racial realities we’re grappling with this summer.
Mom adored and respected Mrs. McLoughlin but all her preparations belied a lingering insecurity from growing up poor, afraid of being considered shabby.
All the summer fairs may be closed for now but that doesn’t mean you have to be without your favorite fair food.