It's popsicle week. I'm coming in just under the wire!Read More
The last time my brother and I had dinner he brought me a present. A cutting from his lush wandering jew. He had planted the little stem carefully in a bit of soil and made a small newspaper pot to transport it. He had carried it in hands on the subway all the way to Brooklyn, where I was living at the time. It’s the last physical gift he ever gave me.Read More
First, a little request. If you like Love, Cake, and I hope very much that you do, please consider dropping her a nomination for the 2015 Saveur Blog Awards. You can nominate Love, Cake by clicking here. Thank you!
Ok. Now, imagine a guy with a body like Vin Diesel and a face like Rodney Dangerfield. If you dare. Let me explain. I’ve been thinking a lot about jobs lately. My current job, which is to finish the manuscript for my gluten-free cookbook, is flying by far too fast. I’m deep in it right now. That's where this week’s doughnut recipe comes from. And my friend Merritt's excellent book called First Jobs comes out next month. Hearing her stories has made me reflect on all the jobs I’ve had and loved over the years. My first job out of college is still one of my favorites. And that guy, Mr. Rodney Diesel, made me love it even more.Read More
Our Whole Foods has a cookie bar. It looks like a salad bar but it’s stocked with cookies. Genius idea. I don’t know what the cookies taste like. Shockingly I’ve never succumbed to their calls. But they look appetizing. No matter how stale they must be. No matter how dry I’m sure they are. Piles of cookies look unbearably good. And seeing a setup that usually holds spinach and arugula replaced by shortbread and chocolate chips just makes the brain short circuit a little.Read More
I’m fighting a battle with my refrigerator. My cabinets are against me too. I think they’re all in cahoots together. I’m not sure who is winning. “Let’s shrink” they’ve plotted. “Let’s spit bottles of vinegar and frozen peas at her when she opens our doors!”Read More
I feel like a miss. But lately I’ve been getting ma’amed all over town. I live in a youngish neighborhood by some standards. Perhaps in that context I look especially ma’am-like? I only have a handful of grey hairs. Maybe it’s the fact that my gums are receding and my teeth are just a bit gappier than they were before. I didn’t think that was noticeable.Read More
I’m pretty sure I was a Viking in my last life. Granted, I hate the cold. But I do love to explore other countries. I often braid my hair. And I think Scandinavian desserts, loaded with cardamom, saffron, and almond paste, could conquer the world.Read More
There once was a girl who loved munchkins
She couldn’t but eat them in bunchkins
She loved them so dearly
That when a shop opened nearly
She said “Yum! That will make a great lunchkins.”
Bunny, tiger, punk, Casper the Friendly Ghost, devil, punk again. These are some of my ghosts of Halloweens past. Classics. When I think back on my life in costumes, it strikes me that I have only twice dressed up as an actual human historical figure. The first was Pocahontas. The second was Jennifer Lopez.
I was nine when my parents took us to Paris. My brother Mohan was fourteen. The trip included all the requisite sites, statues, and paintings, but I can really only remember two things vividly. One: bird poop. Two: éclairs.Read More
I actually said “I love you” out loud to the blue and white bag of King Arthur bread flour as I pulled it down from the shelf. It just came out. I thought I was alone in the aisle. It was Monday evening in a Manhattan Whole Foods. Guess what? I wasn’t alone. I heard myself say it and then, embarrassed that my inner thoughts were out, sheepishly turned my head around just in time to catch a quizzical look on the face of a lonely looking man buying spices. I know. Lonely says the woman who audibly declared her amorous feelings for a bag of milled wheat.Read More
Imagine a soft pudgy marshmallow. Naked and vulnerable. What would happen if you put that marshmallow on the surface of the sun? Exactly what happens when a kid plunks her baby-soft finger in molten hot caramel. How do I know? Don’t worry. I’m alright now.Read More
I just counted—between us, Gus and I have 10 pairs of gym shoes. That’s 20 shoes for 4 feet and zero closets. Are we hoarders?
Ok. I checked the bathroom. Six toothbrushes. Two faces. Confirmed hoarders.Read More
My friend Cate and I were out to dinner the other night and got to chatting about the things that we prefer to make at home instead of buying at the store. Our lists included the usual suspects. Jam. Granola. Hummus. It was only when I threw in “toaster pastries” did Cate laugh in my face. Lovingly of course.Read More
I’m so glad that Birkenstocks are acceptable again. Almost cool. Over the past couple of years I’ve seem them on fashionable New Yorkers, and I just bought a pair. I had forgotten how comfy they are. They’re still not exactly good looking, but I like them. They feel sort of age appropriate in a nice way.Read More
Yesterday I didn’t step outside of my apartment once. I didn’t take a shower until just before bed. I won’t even tell you at what time I remembered to brush my teeth. It’s countdown to book deadline around here!
One week. I’m feeling great. I have a plan of action. I even have a social plan or two for the evenings to keep me sane. And I know, in the back of my mind, that my contract includes a 45-day grace period should I need it. But that’s a crutch I’m going to try to run away from with my two good legs.Read More
I know what you’re thinking. You probably read the title of this post and shook your head. Maybe you scrolled through the pictures disapprovingly. “My land,” you thought, “this woman is obsessed with custard.” And you know what? You’re absolutely right. It’s shameful. I am. But this week I have an excuse. This week I’m passing the buck. This week I’m blaming three other people. Custard haters, please send your complaints to John Cheever, my husband Gus, and John McPhee.Read More
Let me tell you how I’ve been spending my evenings up here in Maine. We wrap up dinner around 6:30, nice and early. It’s wonderful to sit on the screened-in porch and watch the light change and feel the air cool down. At the end of the meal, we sit around and chat. Then my father-in-law John gets up and clears the plates and starts the dishes. And it’s usually about that time that I’m struck by a genius idea. Every night it’s the same idea, but somehow it always seems fresh. And then I ask:
Anyone want ice cream?Read More