Foie Gras and Ties of Tradition in France
Enchanting photos of grey geese and sleek ducks, truffle-hunting dogs and pigs — all signs of autumn in the French …
Tag Archives: Recipes
The [Culinary] Heroes of France
They’re not in the Panthéon in Paris, where France entombs her heroes, but from all the adulation they receive, you’d …
Winter’s Leafy Greens: A Romantic History à la Française
A few mornings ago, the pumpkins sprawling on my front porch sparkled with frost. And you know what that means. …
MORE THAN MEETS THE PIE
The other day I saw another sign of autumn: a smashed pumpkin lying along the side of the …
Ladies of the Pen and the Cookpot: The Other Mrs. (Abby) Fisher
Before M. F. K. Fisher, sometimes known as plain Mrs. Fisher, there was Mrs. Abby Fisher. And Abby Fisher’s personage …
Coconut Groves and Coconut Dreams
“Columbus had no idea, of course, of the almost infinite ramifications of his voyages on the way future people would …
Saffron: The Gold We Eat
Once used as money instead of gold in Don Quixote’s Spain, saffron costs upwards of $1000 US per pound. Indeed, …
Not Nuts (The Natural History and Far-Flung Adventures of the Lowly Peanut)
A nguba is an arachide is a cacahuete. Or Gedda, French, and Spanish for “pea‑nut,” if you prefer. Arachis hypogaea looks like a nut, tastes like a nut, but is actually not a nut at all. More like a legume or bean. The name “groundnut” tries to get the thing situated correctly but even that is incorrect. Botanically, peanuts belong to the beans/legumes clan and are NOT nuts. Gastronomically, peanuts can’t compete with those culinary wunderkind, caviar or truffles. But peanuts don’t aspire to knighthood or a title. In the U.S., peanuts usually take the form of peanut butter or salty snacks. However, peanuts have both an ancient history and a tremendous potential in the cookpot, nobility or not.
Tomatoes, Dust, and a Tasty Soupçon of Africa, Too
My nose burned a little and an odd sensation on my forehead no doubt meant more freckles popping out. I didn’t care. I sat right where I wanted to be on that late August day, in the dirt between two rows of leafy tomato plants. Red globes of all sizes dangled like Christmas ornaments from the plants, the vines sinking into the dust from all that ripe weight.
From Mother Russia with Love: Meaty Mushrooms and Relentless Lent
One of her greatest pleasures in summer was the very Russian sport of hodit’ po gribi (looking for mushrooms). Fried …
