The Ghosts of Smackdowns Past

I’m wasted.

Figuratively, not literally. Suffice it to say that the salmon and endive did not get picked up after work, the court boullion was not made, no fish was poached, no endive was braised in orange juice and my good friends at Italian takeout joint Buon Appetito saved the day.

In place of any actual cooking, why not peruse a year’s worth of smacking the hell on down? I’ll see you over the weekend for some Thanksgiving dessert testing.

You’ve Won the Battle, But Not the War

I Want Some Taquitos

Once there was a nerdy boy and a nerdy girl…

I’m the Richest Poor Woman, or the Poorest Rich Woman

Thomas-Fucking Keller (from guest posters Peter and Christey of FotoCuisine)

A Benefit of Having Big Feet is That It is Literally Impossible to Put One in Your Mouth

That Takes Me Back

The Friday Night Smackdown That Couldn’t: Aspic

The Slowest Hurry Ever

Begrudgingly Fantastic

The Quail’s the Thing

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