New discoveries abound when you’re in university. We learn useful skills like how to use a washing machine, how to share close quarters with near strangers, how to concoct extremely potent alcoholic beverages
Welcome to my blog. I document my adventures in travel, style, and food. Hope you have a nice stay!
New discoveries abound when you’re in university. We learn useful skills like how to use a washing machine, how to share close quarters with near strangers, how to concoct extremely potent alcoholic beverages
So the man’s away for a few days and all you do is spend your time watching America’s Next Top Model and eating nothing but salad and cookies?!
Have you ever realized halfway through following a new recipe that it’s not exactly turning out how it should? That happened to me yesterday when I was making this cake tart thing for dessert. (Yes, we’re having dinner parties again! Neighbors beware!)
The pumpkin is a versatile thing. Whether it’s in the classic pie, my killer cake, a nontraditional bread pudding, the amazing Afghan kaddo bourani, or the simplest pumpkin soup (see below), it’s always a comfort and super easy to prepare.
Since these are not my scones, I can say with authority that they are, without a doubt, the world’s best.
Some things don’t automatically go together. I, for instance, wouldn’t dip my bacon in chocolate, or eat scrambled eggs with ketchup.
I know I’m getting a bit Italo-centric here, but what can I say? I cook what I know.
I didn’t know about this dessert at all until a gorgeous dinner during a trip to Italy last year. We had been invited to Francesco’s aunt’s house in the countryside near Bologna. A family affair, the kind I love: piling into the car, getting lost, arriving late and grumpy and starving. And then sitting down in a warm room with a fire and the smell of rosemary and a roast and a table full of unopened bottles.
One of the tricky things about moving across the world is finding the right ingredients.
This is one of those recipes that does what I hate to do: clean out my refrigerator. In this case, it took care of that little bit of leftover pumpkin puree, a haphazardly opened packet of ginger nut biscuits (ginger snaps) (it was house guest, I swear), a half loaf of day-old bread, the rest of a carton of questionable milk, and the second half of a tub of mascarpone.
Though I’m not entirely convinced these deserve their own post, sometimes the simplest things are the ones you need to be reminded of.
Things are a little hectic around here. It’s almost midnight and there’s a cake in the oven (yes, that one.
And I was prepared. I knew what we had signed up for, that there would be more meat than four reasonably hungry people should be able to eat
In the throes of mourning after house guest’s 3 AM departure, we have decided to console ourselves the only way we know how: with meat.
Today is house guest’s last day. If you’ve been following this blog, you’ve probably been wondering who is this guy? and why does he love cookies so much?
Guanciale, pecorino romano, tomato puree, chili flakes, wine, and bucatini: everything you need to make the perfect amatriciana.
Oh, Rhubarb, you are quite possibly the most delicious pie filling in the history of the universe, but yet, so mysterious. You are tart and sweet. You carry wintry and summery overtones. Francesco thinks you’re German; I think you’re British.
If you’ve been over for dinner sometime in the last, oh, three years or so, you’ve probably had this bread. The one I make at least twice a week.
Due to the positive response to yesterday’s post, I’ve decided to put aside a little time to celebrate figs. Known only as the sticky sweet interior of Fig Newtons (named after my hometown!) to most of us, figs are an ancient