I’m walking down 82nd Street past the police precinct. It’s almost 6 PM; I’ve spent the past hour in Central Park, doing the wide loop around the reservoir as is my evening routine. I’m cold and so eager for a hot shower and pajamas and dinner that I can barely let myself think of the comfort ahead. I walk briskly, picturing each block ahead, only vaguely noticing the surroundings, aware of them only in my peripheral vision: parked police cars, a father holding open the glass door to a restaurant and helping his toddler step carefully down the stoop, a nice-looking yet wearied man walking his golden retriever.
Read moreCOCONUT WHITE CHOCOLATE BLONDIES
Every time I write the word “blondies”, I think about the old cartoon with Blondie and Dagwood. When I was young, there was little more thrilling on a Sunday morning than sitting at our scratched white kitchen table, feet tucked up to avoid kicking at the cold linoleum tile floor, and waiting eagerly for our dad to unfold the newspaper (the Baltimore Sun), riffling through the flimsy pages until he came to the colorful section of cartoons in the back. He’d carefully extract the double pages of funnies, as we called them, and spread them out on the table, pushing aside our half-drunk glasses of orange juice and plates covered in the detritus of breakfast: crusts of whole wheat toast, a smear of fried egg from our one-eyed giants (or, toad in a hole, as most people call them), a bit of strawberry jam clinging to the tines of a fork. juice and plates covered in the detritus of breakfast: crusts of whole wheat toast, a smear of fried egg from our one-eyed giants (or, toad in a hole, as most people call them), a bit of strawberry jam clinging to the tines of a fork.
Read moreSOURDOUGH BISCUITS
I’ve been meaning to write about these sourdough biscuits for over two weeks now, ever since I put my first batch in the oven, walked back into the kitchen ten minutes later, sniffed the air, and nearly fell over from the sheer deliciousness of the scent alone.
And I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. If you’ve seen me post some snapshots of them over the past two weeks and you’ve been waiting for the recipe, hopefully it’s something you’ve been able to look forward to rather than wring your hands in desperation over the delay. Hopefully reading these words is a small pleasure that anticipation has only heightened.
Read moreSOURDOUGH CHOCOLATE CAKE
One day soon, I might post a recipe that doesn’t start with sourdough. Or, alternatively, maybe I’ll turn every single thing I like to bake into a sourdough version. Who’s to say? Stick around for the ride! It’ll be a surprise! Much like life itself, right? One week it’s cold and chilly and feels like winter, and the next week I pass a guy wearing khaki shorts and Birkenstocks on my evening walk in the park. One month you can’t fall asleep without playing the NYT crossword, and the next month you want nothing more than get under the covers to read another page of your novel (I’ve just finished this one, am now starting this one, and this one is next). One day you love omelettes with a roughly 50/50 ratio of Gruyere cheese to egg, and the next day you are over Gruyere and would really appreciate some cheddar. Being alive is wild, man.
Read moreSOURDOUGH PUMPKIN CHOCOLATE CHIP LOAF
I was walking through the West Village yesterday. The sun was shining and the day was one of those brilliant, made-for-a-postcard ones—the sky a fierce cobalt blue and the sidewalk cafes and restaurants crowded with people drinking and laughing. A shiny, polished, new penny sort of fall day.
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