September 5, 2013
I have discovered reason number 72 that I suck at being single: I cannot for the life of me figure out how to grocery shop for one person.
Weekly, I find myself carting home my own body weight or more in groceries knowing that, logically, there is no way I will consume it all before the next shopping trip. Which leads to recipes like this, which required me to invite a bunch of people over to help me eat it.
Not like they were complaining. These chops were dang good, though be careful not to overcook since there’s nothing worse than a dry chop. Don’t skip the raisins here, though I hear all of you moaning that raisins ruin everything. They don’t in this — they add a hint of sweetness, the way applesauce would in another classic pork pairing.
February 9, 2013
I’ve been going out to eat a lot lately. I feel like I’m finally starting to figure out this Paris thing, and a big part of that is hanging out with friends at good restaurants… which means that I’m not cooking as much.
There’s this thing that happens when I eat a lot of restaurant food, though, where I start to crave the kind of thing that restaurants don’t tend to serve. Long-simmered, inexpensive cuts of meat. Saucy brown stuff. The kind of food that isn’t pretty on a plate, but sticks to your ribs.
This is what I want today, after several nights of restaurant food. Fork tender pork meets a nutty, buttery, oniony sauce that’s rendered rich and complex by a cajun-style, chestnut-colored roux. Plus pajamas, plus Netflix, plus beer, equals perfect night in.
September 15, 2012
I apologize in advance for any bacon cravings that might ensue due to you reading this post.
This is one of those things that you don’t want to have lingering in the house. You want to make it for something (a party, another recipe, etc.) and then get it the hell out of your sight. Because no one’s willpower is strong enough to stand against candied bacon.
June 14, 2012
I never thought I would be so happy to say that Chipotle has opened in Paris.
Judge not, ye Angelenos. You know you would miss it too. Decent Mexican places are few and far between in the City of Lights, and most of them are sit-down affairs. I don’t need a waiter to bring me a burrito. Burritos are for 1pm hangover Sundays, taken home in a paper bag and eaten with Tapatio while watching Netflix. Burritos are for picking up for lunch breaks and eating in the kitchen with the attorneys watching People’s Court. To a Californian, burritos are comfort food. A big squishy hug contained inside a warm flour tortilla.