So on top of everything else, I've come down with the cold that ate New York. Or rather, the cold that deafened New Yorkers' already selective hearing with its hacking cough and trumpetlike snoring, and drowned the city in unctuous, sticky mounds of mucous from the never-ending supplies in our sinus cavities. Yesterday I slept more than the dog, and the dog sleeps 23.5 hours a day.
Hyperbolic? Never! THIS IS THE WORST COLD I HAVE OR WILL EVER HAVE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. See, even caps weren't enough; I had to use BOLD. BOLD. Think about that. And then, if ...
You are cold-hearted poeple who enjoy reading about failure, so I was going to appease your horrifying bloodlust and go all Thomas Keller on your asses. On my ass. On someone's ass. Whatever, there was going to be food and probably horrifying failure. And ass. Lots and lots of ass.
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Tiny martini glasses: cute presentation, or painfully twee?*
A few weeks ago, The Kitchn highlighted an old Bon Appetit recipe for wine-marinated grapes. Because while fruit is tasty on its own, it is almost always improved by being soaked in booze.
I was immediately drawn to this recipe - if you can call it that, it's so simple I don't know if it rises to the level of "recipe" - because frozen grapes have always been one of my favorite summer snacks. And if I love frozen grapes, and soaking grapes in booze will make them better, then Newton's 5th ...
Prunes, prunes, the musical fruit; the more you eat, the more you shit uncontrollably.
So I pretty much dream about prune-stuffed gnocchi with vin santo and foie gras every night. And often during the day, as well. So it's a good thing that No. 9 Park gives out the recipe on request. And since Chef Barbara Lynch has a cookbook coming out this year and I'm taking the liberty of assuming that this recipe - her signature - will be in it, I feel justified in selecting it as this week's smackdown.
Because maybe this will help jar ...