That Blank Stare

You would think everyone at my house would be living a life of culinary bliss, eagerly anticipating the next plate placed before them. But it ain’t always so…

Polpo diavolo

Everything is grand when I serve breaded chicken cutlets, hamburgers or pizza. Unless I try to slip some anchovies on top. But certain dishes elicit a blank stare from the kids — even from the wife on occasion — that says: “You expect me to eat that??” More

The Tomato Bank

Sometimes in life you stumble upon an odd confluence of food and commerce. And more often than not, the Japanese are behind it. Witness the business I noticed today on a sojourn to L.A.’s Little Osaka to pick up some fish: The Tomato Bank.

Happy customer leaving the Tomato Bank

I’m not sure I would feel confident entrusting my savings to the Tomato Bank. But maybe that’s not what kind of bank it is. More

Igniting Your Own Creative Spark in the Kitchen

I’m often asked by dinner guests, as I serve them a meal of Sardinian seafood or Japanese sumiyaki grill or Yucatan-style Mexican, “Where do you get your ideas?”

Freshly made mezzaluna

I’ll admit it’s somewhat easier for me than the average person — having a career that gives me the time and flexibility to indulge my passion for kitchen creativity. However, I still have to come up with ideas of what I’m going to cook each evening. More

Our First Anniversary!

On August 7, 2010, I launched Skinny Girls & Mayonnaise — exploding out the gate with eight posts on that single day. Four more came the following day. I guess you could say they’d be welling up inside of me for awhile.

It’s been a great year of cooking, philosophizing, marketing, experimenting and writing about it all. And sharing it. More

A Kitchen Story

I always enjoy hearing stories of what brought people to their passions for food. My grandfather cooked on a train during the Depression. That’s all I know of that story. Although it provides a good prelude to my own.

The author at 13

My journey into food began, I suppose, as so many do: at my mother’s apron. The house always smelled good, and the kitchen was warm and inviting. More

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries