If the Discovery Channel can have “Shark Week,” why can’t Skinny Girls & Mayonnaise have “Crab Week”! It’s kinda the same except less terrifying and more delicious!
Dungeness crabs — Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco
Shelve your shrimp and save the lobster for the nouveau riche — crab is, hands down, my favorite crustacean. Even scampi scurry in comparison. I find myself revisiting the subject of crab on my blog often because it is one of my favorite things. I have fond childhood memories of navigating through the crowded walkways of Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco, where large pots belched steam into the cold Bay air and Dungeness crabs were displayed in imposing piles taller than my head. That a creature so menacing looking could have such sweet, snowy white flesh was one of the wonders of the universe. More
There are a lot of overly serious food blogs out there. What’s there to be so serious about? I hope people are laughing as they read my food blog.
I find “foodies” in general to be an overly serious lot. They make unfunny jokes about agrobusiness or sourcing free-range capon as they sit around trading cooking tips, sampling Asian tapas and sipping lychee soju martinis. I get antsy when people refer to me as a foodie. It feels like I’ve got some kind of ugly condition and people are whispering about me. I imagine them picturing me waiting in line at the latest food truck, and then Tweeting about it when I get home.
Yoga students and starlets tend to be overly serious about food, too — except in an opposite way from foodies. Rather than looking for the newest obscure Italian salumi, they spend their time scouring menus and ingredients lists, ever vigilant for things like butter and salt. Their lives become more about what NOT to eat, and how much fun is that?
Mario Batali, Julia Child and Colonel Sanders ala The Simpsons
I saw a recent episode of “The Simpsons” where Marge, Bart and Lisa become foodies and launch their own food blog. It was very funny. More
On Sunday afternoons, many of my male friends will retreat to their “man caves.” I’ve written before about these enigmatic places — spare rooms, basements, converted garages where a guy can steal away to play computer games or smoke a joint or read, I guess. I don’t know what happens in man caves, I’ve never actually been in one. In my imagination they are dark and smell of tobacco and dust.
The kitchen serves a similar purpose in my life. When I’m cooking, it’s a space — both mentally and physically — I can withdraw to, focus and engage in my craft. Except unlike a man-cave, there’s no locked door, no barrier to entry for my wife or kids. More
Something happens to me when there are Korean short ribs around. I don’t like the man I become.
The Dear Leader, upset to find no short ribs
Our friend Pirco is from Berlin, his wife Jean is Korean. Every summer they have a party for Pirco’s birthday, and Jean makes short ribs — “kalbi”, in Korean. This year, Pirco was manning the grill. I bet he’s dynamite with a steamed bratwurst. But when it came to the short ribs, he looked in over his head. “Sean, do you think these coals look correct?” he asked. I was giving him tips, and next thing I knew it was I who was manning the grill. Which I could not have planned better — I was now in control of the short ribs. More
One of the most interesting parts of cooking, to me, is discovering the roots of particular types of cuisine and dishes. The etymology of food, if you will. For example, you may claim to love tacos. But in Mexico, regional variations range from the familiar fish and shrimp tacos of Baja to the grilled sandwiched mulitas of Oaxaca to the fried tacos de cazo of Mexico City — often filled with pig’s esophagus. The people of central Mexico eat wriggling live larvae in their tacos. Do you love that?
The coat of arms of Amatrice
A favorite pasta of mine is called bucatini all’ Amatriciana. It has long been part of my Italian repertoire. But making it one evening, and videotaping it for this blog, I realized I didn’t know much about it’s origins. So I decided to investigate. More
skinny girls & mayonnaise 