March 26, 2012
I love quiche. I adore it.
What else (besides perhaps mac & cheese) is as simultaneously sophisticated and homey as quiche? What else is as equally well-suited for entertaining as it is for leftover lunches and tired weeknight dinners, and as un-fussy as to be equally tasty eaten room-temperature as it is warm?
What’s not to love?
Quiche is quaint; irresistible (just look at its fat wedge shape!); customizable (leaving you freedom to play with whatever combination of vegetables, herbs and cheese sounds good to you — or whatever you have in the fridge); hearty (and still easily vegetarian, if you want it to be); and finally, er… elaborate. And excessively rich.
Hmm. There’s something not to love.
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October 26, 2011
Hello, my name is Lauren, and I am a winter squash addict.
It started as a child with pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread, eventually progressing from all things sweet (muffins, pancakes, baked with butter and sugar) to all things savory (curries, chilies, soups and stews) to, um, all things. Just, all of them. Give me winter squash in everything.
Why am I telling you this? Because at the farmer’s market last Saturday I stumbled upon a most wonderful vendor: a farm that offers (miraculously, despite Irene-related damage) ten or fifteen different varieties of squash! And I’m not just talking your standard acorn and butternut — there were squash I’d never seen before, and I was mesmerized.
The best part is that while some of them were compellingly, dangerously huge (as some squash are wont to be), many of them — even those varieties that tend to fall into the first category — were of a managable size, some no bigger than a coconut. Tiny squash! What could be more compelling than that?? Not only are they, ahem, totally adorable, BUT you can try lots of different kinds without winding up buried in an overwhelming poundage of squash.
Having recently gained a new appreciation for taking everything in moderation, I promised myself two small squashes, and no more.
(You already see where this is going.)
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November 30, 2010
You know what I don’t get? All the hooplah about Butternut squash.
As soon as fall rolls around, everyone everywhere (from cooking magazines to coworkers to mom) is raving about it, putting it in stews and chilis and soups and salads, talking about it like it’s the height of squash sophistication.
Enough already! I mean yeah, the long neck is ideal for getting evenly-sized perfect little cubes of squash, and it’s got an appealing name (butter nut… mmm) — but otherwise it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, is it?
Let’s face it: it’s always been one of the more difficult squashes to cut. Getting through that neck is treacherous, am I right? Seriously — everyone has a butternut squash horror story. Some even have the battle scars to prove it.
What’s worse, when you do finally succeed in hacking the little beast to pieces, it often yields up (what I find to be) flesh that is a) overly moist, b) usually kind of stringy and c) only somewhat sweet some of the time. Yes, after all that work you’re not even guaranteed a sweet reward.
So there you find yourself, standing over the stove, with sore biceps and bleeding digits, surrounded by buff-colored squash peels and band-aid wrappers, and all you have to show for it is some vaguely-sweet, fibrous orange glop.
Okay so maybe I’m exaggerating a wee bit.
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July 22, 2010
I know I know, I KNOW.
It has been far too long since my last post.
It’s just that summer is in full swing, which means that my weekends are now spent taking trips: bus rides home to go to the beach and laze around in the hammock and train rides to visit my brother to drink home-brewed beer on his roof and help him chickensit a gaggle of rowdy hens and take a leisurely stroll down what Dickens declared to be the most beautiful street in America. Add to that the fact that during the work-week when I am actually here in the city I am trying to take advantage of all of the free outdoor movies and live music in the parks, and finally going to physical therapy (all cooking and no running makes me a very cranky girl), and maybe sort of also looking at apartments and, well… you get the idea. It’s been a bit hectic.
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June 29, 2010
Lately I’ve been on a mission to buy and eat primarily whatever is in season at the markets. I thought it would be a fun way to try new things, expand my food vocabulary. But as it turns out, eating in season has proven to be not as challenging nor as adventurous as I’d originally anticipated. And I like a challenge.
I needed to raise the stakes.
I decided that I would start buying unfamiliar, possibly even unidentifiable things: things I don’t know how to cook or — even better — things I suspected I may not really like. I figured if I bought it and brought it home, my sense of responsibility for it (combined with my strong desire to avoid waste at all costs) would result in culinary ingenuity. After all, necessity is the mother of invention, right?
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June 9, 2010
Today I did something I love to do: I made my own yogurt.
If you’re sitting there wondering why on earth anyone would want to go to the trouble to make their own yogurt when there are already entire grocery sections devoted to the stuff, you clearly lack a sense of adventure don’t know me very well. I could go on a little rant about artificial flavors and sweeteners, fillers and gelatins and preservatives, or I could tell you that there’s something really wholesome and comforting about the process… but instead I’m going to tell you a little story.
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