Years and years ago I visited New Orleans. Such a memorable city- the scenery, art, the captivating architecture. Amidst all those wonderful things, those beautiful sights there was one place that to this day comes to mind most clearly. Cafe Du Monde in the French Quarter. I can precisely recall eating sugary beignets & sipping on hot cafe au lait right there in one of the most charming cities I’ve had the pleasure of visiting. The weather was warm enough to make sweat bead on my brow but the donuts and coffee were so good that the heat didn’t do a damn thing to deter me. (more…)

I want to throw a bag in the car and hightail it South…and when I get there I want to eat. Oh, the romance of Southern food- it warms my heart and my stomach to boot. Pit barbecue, black eyed peas, cornbread, sweet tea, butter beans, cobblers, catfish, pecan pie…all of it renders me moon eyed, irrationally hungry. This cuisine is hands down my favorite, so naturally, savage cravings surface at least a couple times a week. When desire strikes theres always Smokin’ Petes in Ballard for pulled pork & slaw or better yet, my own kitchen for some home cooking. (more…)

My “Christmas” holiday came and went without a hitch while pointedly lacking any sort of reverence. As an atheist, these last couple days carried little significance to me other than the looming challenge of shopping/cooking with the impending urgency/ inconvenience of the local grocery being closed. No worries…I hit the co op hard on the 23rd and made away with what I felt like resembled a post apocalyptic survival stash of food. None of the meals prepared have been particularly fancy…although crepes were made for breakfast on the 25th accompanied by champagne heavy mimosas. Wes has a talent with those damn crepes that is beyond me- this is a food that I have inevitably fucked up time and again in past attempts. He has a hand for them I suppose…a grace with the batter and pan that is lovely to behold. We ate…we drank…we lazed about the house and when antsy made our way outside to walk the dog along the chilly deserted streets of our city. (more…)

Mustard on meats and cheeses, saltine crackers, tortilla chips, cucumbers and bell peppers- even on apple slices. His windowsills and shelves, the top of the refrigerator- all these spaces were crowded with little stocky pots of various recipes in progress. Miles was a mustard man…a true connoisseur. We met while working together at a popular cafe in Tucson- a shared sarcastic sense of humor bonded us fast friends. I lived out of my VW bus (which was bliss- simple, cozy…my life held the constant romance of a camping trip) and Miles was kind enough to give me unfettered access to his home for the purpose of using his shower, washing my clothing, watching an occasional movie etc. It was during this time that I found that there was more to him than his charmingly apathetic chain smoking habit and an astoundingly extensive record collection- he was very much enamored with mustard. Perched on his kitchen counter, swigging a beer I would watch him experiment with ingredients for hours. He would pull out spices, harvest fresh herbs from his backyard garden, chop fruit, dice vegetables…adding, subtracting and combining in order to create unusual blends- mustards the like of which I had never tasted. (more…)

I dont want it to be just “sweet”- I like a more sophisticated sugar cookie with defined flavor qualities and a smooth character. Here is a recipe where the taste of warm vanilla, rich creamy butter and spice in the base are all gently illuminated in a cookie as tender as cake. Beautifully simple and blissfully delicious, part of the appeal in working with such a fundamental recipe is the potential for creative freedom. For example, if one feels so inclined to make it a kick more exciting (as I did here)- spice adds a lovely complexity. Cardamom is a personal favorite but if you dont care for that this is a gratifyingly easy recipe to experiment with. Add ginger, lemon or orange zest, almond extract or any number of flavors to the base. If you’d rather keep the batter basic, feel free to sprinkle with cinnamon/sugar before baking or make a simple icing or frosting to top them with after they cool….the possibilites are pretty damn endless. Bite into the softness of one of these little bastards and you’ll find an intense disdain developing for any cookie of a crisper/crunchier texture. Its true. (more…)

I rate soup largely on its density. A stew or a bisque- a food with some weight to it, fall in my favor most often. None of this watery nonsense- trying to dredge up the solid bits in my bowl is obnoxious, I am disinterested and for the most part totally opposed to food hide and seek. No good…no no good. The other thing with soupy soup is it really does little to satiate hunger. Yes, temporarily it fills the belly but in the same way that water does- its a placebo that is quickly pissed out. And following that bladder releasing bathroom visit, guess what? I’m fucking hungry again. Thus making the soupy soup “meal” I just consumed completely superfluous. (more…)

A cough is difficult to contain under these circumstances. My lungs must resemble a shaken snow globe- a small storm of powder swirls madly about, then adheres to my insides like spackle. Lips delicately dusted white, a rich buttery slightly nutty cookie crumbling beneath the pressure of my tongue (the uncomfortable wheezing fits that accompany such sweetness are a tiny price to pay really). I suppose I can be more cautious…do my best to stifle an inhale and/or avoid speaking when one of these delicious devils are in my mouth. But really? Maybe I don’t care enough or maybe (being the twisted individual I am) I deem the lung assault a crucial, almost enjoyable part of the Russian Tea Cake eating process. (more…)

Come chanterelle season, you cant slap the grin off my face. This food reduces me to a giddy idiot…these mushrooms have me elated, frantic and illogically ravenous. I handle them as though they bear the fragility of a snowflake but despite my tender touch, chanterelle is a tyrant this time of year- monopolizing restaurant menus, strong arming market bins and dominating recipes. Fortunately, the regularity to which they appear on my plate does not deter me…no matter how many times or at what frequency, each taste feels like my first. (more…)

I met Brandi on one of many visits to Las Vegas years ago. I first caught sight of her while drinking at a crusty bar with an ex of mine. Strutting in, she was quite the distraction- tall, blonde, nice teeth and in great shape (partly, I’m sure, due to her work with the police department). The woman was stunning…just hot as hell. We hit it off, had a tryst and over time have established a lovely friendship beyond our initial carnal attraction.

Not only is the woman a fox and a good pal but it turns out she makes a damn fine jelly to boot. Prickly Pear Jelly? I had never tasted nor heard of it so Brandi offered to send me a couple jars. The jelly is an irradiant magenta color, nearly neon. The flavor is delicious- similar to grape but more mild. Below, is Brandi’s recipe and additional information in regards to harvesting cactus fruit that she was oh so generous to share. (more…)

It has been violently raining off and on in Seattle for days…really raining. The kind of rain that slaps your cheeks and stings your eyes, the type that defies dignity and leaves you sopping and pathetic in sticky clothing. These demeaning random downpours are of course quickly followed with vivid cerulean skies the color of which can only be found in hotel pools. The clearing never lasts long and soon again thick gray clouds return, heavy like a wet blanket. (more…)