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Every week there’s a night where my deadlines combined with Brian’s work and an avalanche of homework or playdates or projects converge, and we don’t make it to the kitchen. Pizza is the easiest food to procure in a pinch, but we change things up by adding sushi or Mexican food to the mix. Recently, in a moment of rare lucidity, Brian and I discussed how much better it would be if we just planned to eat out once a week, instead of making the same desperate decision each Wednesday night at 6pm. We know there’s going to be a night when things are just too hectic, so why not plan for it and take away some of the stress and guilt involved?
A pizza confession may be an unusual way to begin a post about healthier families, but I think it raises an essential point: no parent is perfect. read more »
My first Brooklyn apartment had a distant view of the Chrysler building. You had to climb out the kitchen window and stand on an adjacent roof to see it, but still it was there. Brian and I would sit out there in the evenings, filled with all the optimism that young love and any kind of view of the NYC skyline inspires, and dream our dreams. We planned to take the city by storm. We’d also talk about having kids and all the things we wanted for these potential humans. read more »
Antoine-Auguste Parmentier, for whom potage Parmentier and a host of other potato dishes are named, is the rare agronomist whose life makes for an interesting read (George Washington Carver is another and after that I’ve got nothing.) While we now think of the potato as central to European peasant cuisine, that wasn’t the case in Parmentier’s time, prior to the French Revolution. An import from South America where it was a staple for the Indians of the Andes, the potato hadn’t caught on as human food in Europe and was thought to only to be edible only for animals. read more »
Not so long ago, I worked in an office. The kind with little cubes and a computer monitor too small to display the spreadsheets I needed to use and a chair hierarchy that provided peons like me a work week of spinal pain and florescent lights hovering way too close. On my last day, I had only a small tote of things to collect. After nearly two years, I hadn’t moved in. I wish I’d thought to take a picture. It would be a great reminder as I try to balance mothering and writing and creative food and family food, that even on the worst days, I’m better off than I was in that awful gray cube. read more »
As apartment-dwellers grilling with a tiny grill on the balcony of a building we knew from personal experience to be flammable, our adventures in charcoal were limited to things that could be cooked quickly so that coals could be extinguished immediately. Now that we have a little space, though, Brian and I have wanted to get serious with our new(ish) full-size grill and smoke some meat. Last weekend, we finally made it happen. read more »
August? Already? This summer has been too busy for my liking, and so this month we’re looking to slow things way down. Current plans include: swimming, lazing in the sun, eating outdoors, catching fireflies, and showing the girls the Blue Ridge Mountains.
In the city, fall comes on slowly –– the urban heat effect pushes off the turning of the leaves until late November. But here in the country, the change is sudden. This is my call to action; there are peaches to slurp and watermelon seeds to spit. I haven’t made it in yet, but I’m planning a dip in a swimming hole or two. And maybe just a little more sangria, for good measure. read more »