Running Out of Ideas

Every time I launch a new post — which is twice a week — I get a little message from the hosting service that says, “Wow! Congratulations! This is your XXX post!!” I think I’m up around 160 now. (You can go through and count if you’re curious and don’t have any plans this afternoon…) That’s a lot of occasionally useful information!

Sometimes someone will say, “Aren’t you worried you’re going to run out of ideas?”

Package of samgyetang ingredients

I don’t worry about that. There are ideas everywhere I look. Last night at the Parkers for dinner I had a colorful conversation with my pal Nat (star of the post, “Sundays with Nat”) about whether we were going to kill our chickens and eat them after they stopped producing eggs (he is, we aren’t). More

The Happy Onion

Some days are harder than others. Like when the baby wakes up 42 times during the night, as she did a couple evenings ago. On those mornings, I slog about the house feeling glum. But that particular day, I open the fridge, and discover there on the shelf in front of me, wrapped in plastic, the Happy Onion.

The Happy Onion

It doesn’t take much to turn a day around. Something in the cocksure twist of the onion’s smile reminded me that my burdens are relatively light and the world is indeed a mostly pretty good place. More

Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown

I know New Yorkers like to think they’ve got the world’s best Chinatown. Of course, New Yorkers think they’ve got the world’s best everything. They even like to think Nobu Matsuhisa and Thomas Keller are New York chefs.

Chinatown, San Francisco

I’ve never been to New York’s Chinatown. I’m a true native Californian. Which means I was born hating the Yankees, and ironically subscribe to a decidedly New Yorker-esque kind of regionalism in which I believe California has the best everything. You southerners ever tried Santa Maria barbecue?? More

Kingdom of Salsa

I think I’ve got salsa running through my veins. My two oldest brothers — twins, twenty years my elders — both married Mexican women. At my childhood home, our brick worker — Cisco — was practically a part of the family. I have formative memories of large, festive gatherings with mariachi and piñatas, huge bowls of crispy tortilla chips and dishes of smoky, addictive and dangerously hot salsa.

(l to r) Chipotle caramelized onion salsa, tomatillo arbol salsa, pan-roasted tomato garlic salsa

I would bravely dip a chip into the salsa — just a corner at first. Then half the chip, and eventually I would actually scoop. I would thrill at both the uncomfortable blazing tingle in my mouth, and at my increasing ability to handle it. And the abuelas would marvel at the Scoville heat tolerance of the little gringo. More

Thanks. Giving.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. In addition to being the only holiday that is really ALL about food, it incorporates two of my favorite concepts into its title: thanks and giving.

If I were limited to only two values I could instill my children, it might be those two. To be thankful. And to be giving.

One of the most valuable things I can give is my time. And often I do that by cooking. When friends or loved ones come for a meal, they are not merely chewing and swallowing. They are being honored, served and cherished. And they are sharing in my small effort to make the world a more slow, thoughtful, beautiful place — one meal at a time. More

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries