When you grow up in a family of very enthusiastic eaters, you come to realize that everyone has their own preferred flavor.
Hello my friends, It’s the height of Mardi Gras season which you feel very viscerally when you live in New Orleans right now.
How loosely can we use the term ‘shakshuka’? For the sake of naming, brunch, and simple deliciousness… I’m going to say we can be loose, very loose.
There’s an alarming trend in food these days. It’s as though we’ve run out of things to put a fried egg on because now trendy breakfast places are putting fried eggs on their oatmeal.
I’ve got my head down these days prepping recipes and making plans. I’ve popped my head up just enough to realize that New Orleans is in full on party mode with Mardi Gras, and Facebook is still aflame with politics chaos.
Hello friends, Can I talk to you about something? I have a cookbook coming out soon. It’s about Brunch and don’t worry… starting next week (or sometime around then), I’ll shamelessly and relentlessly ask you to buy it and come see me as I’m traveling around.
Hello dear friends, This week in things… Tron has found this unwavering and unapologetic placement in the middle of the kitchen rug, I’m watching a new television show called Taboo, we’re exercising our Constitutional rights, Elizabeth Warren is holding it down, and we’re celebrating love because we can and we need to.
If your weekend plans include breakfast of any variety, please consider: chocolate. If your weekend plans include a gathering large or small, please consider: inviting over your best gals.
Galentine’s Day: noun, an annual (not) nationally recognized holiday celebrated by human females on February 13th, the day before the over commercialized, bummer-of-a-holiday-for-single-women traditionally known as Valentine’s Day.
Hello my friends. Welcome to this, the first Sunday in February- sign already that the days run away like wild horses over the hills.
A few weeks back, someone (on Twitter) called me a GOAT. Because Twitter seems to be the place these days where everyone calls each other every name under the sun and otherwise, I thought, hm….
If you’ve been here for any short amount of time, you’ve likely noticed that Sunday posts are a bit different than most of my mid-week food posts.
For your consideration. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even have a majority of them. I can’t decide which color to pain my office.
Most roads in New Orleans these days lead to King Cake. We’re in that precious month between King’s Day (January 6th) and Fat Tuesday where we eat as much and as many King Cakes as we can.
It has been a doozy of a week and I hope you’re taking some time to scramble some eggs, char some tortillas, sip from your coffee cup, and take some time for yourself this morning.
“Table for one, please.” “Oh just one?” “Yes, table for one, please.” I find myself repeating this phrase often, not for lack of dinner company, but mostly because I really love eating out alone.
It’s often right before dinner is served that I start to think about breakfast. It’s about 12 minutes before hangry energy sets in, 10 minutes before I gussy up a plate of food for myself, and 20 minutes before I’m full once again and breakfast is a distant future thought.
It feels like surreal times. On more that one occasion I’ve been sitting alone, lost in thoughts that range from essential survival to entirely trivial, and had to squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, letting some of the realities of our current times out of my brain.
Suzonne invited me over for Moussaka. I nodded my head yes… fairly certain that she was talking about food, absolutely sure she was a stellar cook, and very clear in the fact if someone was inviting me over for homemade dinner I would be there in a heartbeat.
Surely you’re coming to visit New Orleans this Winter! We’re here with the Gumbo warm and the bread fresh.