I have been derelict in my foreign correspondence.
Hey, British people, they’re called “cookies.” But I’ll let it slide.
Damn hurricane. We’ve fled the scene, so keep your fingers crossed that when I return home, my possessions have not all floated off down the Hudson.
Everyone in Irene’s path, stay safe!
The third time’s the charm, that’s what they say.
I seem to cook with a lot of fennel for someone who professes not to like it.
I’m stocking up my dream kitchen.
I’m a sucker for a crispy, salty tater tot.
The world is conspiring against my desire to cook shrimp curry for the second week in a row, because I had to work late tonight and now I’m beat. And as we all knows, that calls for takeout. Bring on the veal parm sub!
It’s hard to get worked up about a piece of salmon.
Gorgeous details. That’s what I want.