Archive for the ‘pasta’ Category

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While testing recipes from an upcoming book for author and blogger extraodinairewho brought us this crunchtime recipe, the soba noodle entered our kitchen in a big way. Mypriordismissiveness of this super-charged food came from thinking it was another carb that doesn’t belong on my plate. I was wrong.

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I prepared this shrimp orzo from Ina’sAt Home cookbook a few years back when hosting a cousin girls’ weekend in Los Angeles. The fresh herbs, lemon, and feta cheese make this pasta and shrimp salad explode and because the shrimp is roasted it caramelizes into something sinful. I’ve been making … Read More

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Spring. Need I really say more. As gifted rays shine through my windows only to be outdone by chirping birds and vivid blooms, I am haunted by images from the Midwest, my Midwest, where so many people suffer unthinkable hardships. Although this little simple blog about real food should stay … Read More

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Why don't I want to like Gwyneth Paltrow? Maybe it's something about feeling inadequate in nearly every category of human function. It's like Gwyneth can't just act in a few roles, she has to win an Academy Award. She can't just socialize, she has to hangout with the likes of Stella McCartney, Jerry Seinfeld, and Cameron Diaz. She can't just do a few sit ups in her living room, she has to have a personal trainer at her home Pilates studio. She can't just sing in the shower, she has to have a plum role on Glee. She can't just be a wife, she has to marry a gifted rock star. She can't just cook, she has to cook with Mario Batali in Spain. She can't just write a blog, she has to dominate the blogosphere with her GOOP (literally and figuratively). She can't just post a few recipes like the rest of us, she has to publish a cookbook. No, US Magazine, Gwyneth Paltrow is not Just Like US. And that's why I want to hate her. But I can't because, if for no other reason, her cookbook, which was a Mother's Day gift from my sister, is on the money. Healthy, smart, approachable.

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Mother’s Day has never been about being a mother to me. Sure, I relish in the eggy brunch, the greeting cards adorned with x’s and o’s, fragrant flower arrangements, and handmade macaroni necklaces as much as any mom, but the day has always been more about being a daughter. I can remember many Mother’s Days I’ve celebrated for my mom yet, rarely can tell you about any Father’s Days. Maybe that’s because, as we like to tease my husband, every day is father’s day, and only one day is set aside to recognize the one person who spends the other days recognizing and celebrating us.
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