Breakfast is probably my favorite meal of the day–I adore the quiet ritual of it. Maybe because I’ve fasted all night or maybe because I’m ravenous after my morning power walk, I find that chow to be deeply gratifying. And I’m… Continue reading…
the broken yolk
The first time I went to Paris, I traveled alone. I was 23. I stayed in a small hotel on the Boulevard Saint-Michel in the Latin Quarter and spent every day walking the streets with tears in my eyes. It was all… Continue reading…
on top of spaghetti
It’s finals week at colleges all over the country and students are stressing out. My own son is in the throes of law school exams and is studying so hard he barely has time to come up for air, let… Continue reading…
comforting companions
Life has been filled with just a few too many trials lately. To help me shake off this mood, I need to cook up some comfort. So I’m going back to my roots: a classic American combo, but prepared in a… Continue reading…
the soup before the storm
The first time I tasted Harira was when my mother-in-law served it as the first course of a holiday meal. It was a revelation to me. A dense, rich soup so laden with meaty chick peas, lentils, and gamey chunks… Continue reading…