The past few months in New York have been some of the most multicultural of my life–I may have been living in my childhood home, but I was working for a French…
I’m Home
I like New York. I swear, I do. I like my new apartment. I love my new roommates. I like being near my parents. I like the 24-hour Subway, 24-hour Duane Reade…
Haddock with Roasted Tomato Salsa
When I was growing up, the Childhood BFF and I were inseparable. We met in preschool, and soon enough I was taking weekend refuge at her house–the home of an only child…
Mom’s Roast Chicken
When I was in high school, one of my best friends, the Violist, had an ongoing struggle with artichokes. She loved them, and whenever they featured on a menu, she wanted to…
La question de demenagement
In 2003, I flew to France for a week, and when I came back, it was 2004. It happens every year–this year, New Years was spent gorging on grapes (a Spanish tradition)…
On a scale of one to ten…
Growing up, this was my father’s favorite phrase. “On a scale of one to ten, how do you think you did on that test?” “On a scale of one to ten, how…
Spring Has Sprung
I tend not to do things the way I was supposed to. You’re supposed to stay at home for high school; I went away. You’re supposed to go to college and live…
Ceci n’est pas un bol de pâtes…
For those of you who have forgotten your French/took Spanish/don’t know about the juxtapositional Magritte painting, what I’ve written above translates to, “This is not a bowl of pasta.” And it’s not….
Kale Chips
Like most people, I think, I don’t cook just for me. Don’t get me wrong–I love being in the kitchen. Case-in-point: my mother has been off gallavanting with my little sister in…
Chana Masala Chutney and Dal
“The grass is always greener on the other side.” There’s a reason that clichés are cliché: thoughts so true have to be expressed, often too often, until suddenly the metaphor or simile…