tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22805439900106853582010-02-08T16:43:06.522-05:00Growing vegetables in my tiny backyard in Cambridge, MA. Cooking, eating and sharing with friends, family and neighbors.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.comBlogger286125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-23494338204142005852010-02-08T06:05:00.001-05:002010-02-08T06:05:00.101-05:00

Mother Nature is brilliant – she stealthily tells us what foods to pair with what and when. Tomatoes and basil, the classic flavor marriage born in southern Italy: we don’t even think about it now, but the fact that they grow next to each other in the hot Mediterranean sun tells us. Similarly, dill, potatoes and salmon from the cooler northwestern region of Europe taste great together too, and

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-71972568897186631652010-02-05T01:55:00.001-05:002010-02-05T01:55:00.378-05:00

I arrived in Hong Kong at 6pm, bleary-eyed from a 24 hour flight but also fully aware that I should get a bite to eat and try to stay awake until 9pm. I headed down Wanchai Road in search of food and adventure. One of the first windows I peered into, a woman was steaming rice-noodle rolls. The next had a man hand-pulling la mein noodles. And if you have never seen this, you should, it’s

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-32204231424931806732010-02-02T21:03:00.000-05:002010-02-02T21:03:00.414-05:00

Picture Credit: Land Big FishNow that I’m a food blogger, I view meal-time differently – no longer is it about nourishing myself nor gathering with friends for an engaging repast; it’s an occasion to tell a story. And as I prepare my dinner, I think about what that story might be, whether it’s the vegetables from the garden, a trip to Asia or the fish I’m cooking. Dinner the other night was

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-68158129027946482982010-01-30T07:56:00.002-05:002010-02-01T07:38:34.678-05:00

As the sun begins to peer through the trees, Chris is out in his yard tending to his animals – two horses, 4 cows, 2 pigs and a dozen chickens. With the exception of two cows (who were born on his farm), they were all rescued from neglectful owners. I visited the farm early last Sunday hoping for a chance to milk Melissa, the 6 year-old Jersey cow. Chris made no promises: You're welcome to

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-76661532943756107872010-01-22T09:55:00.001-05:002010-01-22T09:55:00.521-05:00

Most cooking techniques involve some form of fat or oil. Marinades have oil, sautés and stir-fries require a thin layer of fat in the bottom of the pan, and broiling works better if the food has a thin sheen to protect and also help brown the exterior. Steaming and poaching are low-fat methods that usually require no added fat. But back to the fat…the question becomes, which fat do you use

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-54287094724489908902010-01-20T04:42:00.001-05:002010-01-20T04:42:00.329-05:00

Perhaps my biggest gardening challenge is that I want to grow more vegetables than I have room for in my tiny little patch. The upshot is that I crowd my plants, trying to squeeze as much in as possible, and my vegetables tend to be smaller since they don’t have as much room to spread out and grow. So my plants are smaller than the “supermarket size” benchmark. As I harvest throughout the

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-1309550507012479582010-01-18T01:11:00.003-05:002010-01-18T01:11:00.212-05:00

Photo Credit: Kevin Eats We sat down for dinner, with three wine glasses lined up at each plate. Per the suggestion of my favorite wine guru, I roasted duck and paired it with a chile rellano picadillo to accompany the 1982 Chateau Pichon Lalande. My uncle Janusz filled the wine glasses with the ’82 Bordeaux, a second Bordeaux of less auspicious background and a $10 Bordeaux-style bottle

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-37135440660360712012010-01-15T06:00:00.000-05:002010-01-15T06:00:02.777-05:00

If I recall correctly from my micro-economics class, pricing in a competitive marketplace is set by “supply and demand”. A greater demand for a product will command a higher price. And by contrast, a greater supply will lower the price. The supply and demand model finds the equilibrium between these two forces to set the price. Whole Foods is defying all models by selling beef tenderloin for

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-35389079333261589292010-01-13T04:28:00.000-05:002010-01-13T04:28:00.101-05:00

Scouring through my freezer unearths random bits of grand schemes and leftovers: turkey stock reduction from Thanksgiving, leg of lamb marinated-style tandoori but still raw, and a hunk of foie gras. When I realize I won’t be able to consume foodstuff before they expire, I toss them in the freezer. Perhaps, it’s not the best for way to store food, but it’s better than the alternative. The

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-63760765563547481132010-01-10T19:58:00.000-05:002010-01-10T19:58:00.475-05:00

A cross-country road-trip often requires stopping in places one otherwise might not visit. As I drove from DC to San Francisco in 1994, El Paso became an intermediate destination. I pulled into a seemingly clean motel with cheap rooms, and immediately began a quest for dinner. The hotel clerk recommended Lucy’s Restaurant just a few doors down. This suited me just fine since I could walk.

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-74874334388954049422010-01-08T10:48:00.002-05:002010-01-08T10:48:00.340-05:00

I went into Chez Henri looking for a part-time job, something to supplement my income while I started my own business. I walked out with the position of sous-chef (and a temporary distraction from my entrepreneurial dreams). This was back in 1996, and Chez Henri had just opened to national praise for its inventive French-Cuban cuisine. I knew nothing of Cuban cuisine -- not even the now

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-23876522700968422112010-01-05T01:09:00.005-05:002010-01-05T01:09:00.058-05:00

This weekend, The Boston Globe published a story about my dating trials and tribulations. Yes, it’s more amusing than Fred Flintstone. And all true. I don’t want to give away the punch-line, you should read the story. Due to space limitations, they could not publish the accompanying recipes. Dinner for Ken Fried Rice in general is a great to use up left-over bits of vegetables and meats.

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-73916091280755082112010-01-02T03:43:00.016-05:002010-01-03T08:22:28.490-05:00

This weekend, The Boston Globe published a story about my dating trials and tribulations. Yes, it’s more amusing than Fred Flintstone. And all true. I don’t want to give away the punch-line, you should read the story. Due to space limitations, they could not publish the accompanying recipes. Dinner for Boyfriend No. 2 Perhaps this dish should be a litmus test for future boyfriends. I don’t

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-56951435384314334322009-12-30T08:50:00.000-05:002009-12-30T08:50:00.312-05:00

With all the holiday mayhem, I craved a simple dinner. The convenience food aisle at the supermarket beckoned my lazy alter-ego, and my taste buds responded with a cry out for Chicken Tikka Masala. Unfortunately, the market no longer carried my favorite brand of Indian simmer sauces, the prepared sauces that only require the addition of meat to create a complete “freshly prepared” meal. I

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-89241373988941297702009-12-28T04:56:00.003-05:002009-12-28T04:56:00.221-05:00

A few years back, Whole Foods decided to abandon sales of live lobsters. Apparently, customers complained that this was cruel treatment to the feisty crustaceans. The whole thing seemed silly to me, as I can only imagine that the “free range chickens” live and die no better… it’s just a matter of what the consumer sees, I suppose. In any case, it’s really not that hard to find lobsters

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-6216634240096090372009-12-24T05:47:00.000-05:002009-12-24T05:47:00.242-05:00

Molasses is the viscous byproduct of processing (refining) sugarcane into sugar. Its slightly bitter caramel taste gives gingerbread its unique flavor. It’s also the sugar source used in making rum. The various phases of sugar refinement yield different colors of sugar – from dark brown to light brown and finally white sugar. Molasses can be added to white sugar to give the effect of

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-2435809944329657902009-12-21T18:34:00.001-05:002009-12-21T19:28:58.194-05:00

photo credit: Christine Bergmark, Even' Star Organic Farm The process of breeding greens for winter-tolerance takes many years. Each spring, after the grueling winter winds have dissipated and the snow has melted, Farmer Brett inspects his fields for survivors. In a field of thousands of plants, maybe 10 have withstood the elements. Before the plants begin to flower, he transplants them

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-34732172343719926822009-12-19T08:11:00.001-05:002009-12-19T08:11:00.307-05:00

The other night, in need of a little pampering, I took myself to Oishii... I sat at the bar so I could watch the sushi-chefs work their magic.  But the Truffle-Hamachi Make distracted me into a "When Harry Met Sally" moment. When I recovered, the couple next to me was struggling to understand and order from the menu.  I felt bad for them since they seemed to expect a more traditional, "

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-2789702437783114332009-12-17T07:58:00.015-05:002009-12-17T07:58:00.309-05:00

Within 24 hours of the first snowfall, the temperatures crawled north of 32F, and the one inch blanket soon disappeared. But not without a lasting effect in the garden. I harvested what I could before it fell, but the celery, lettuces and kale remained in the ground with questionable odds of survival. Last night I peeked at the celery. It was definitely floppy, and I didn’t expect it to

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-70616065375155407012009-12-14T13:54:00.000-05:002009-12-14T13:54:31.879-05:00

A few snowy winters ago, I invited friends over for dinner and a fire. When the guests arrived, I wanted to cozy up with them in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine. Not wanting to leave the meal simmering on the stovetop unattended, I brought the food with me into the living room. I rearranged the fire and balanced the pots on the logs and irons. The potatoes boiled atop a small

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-27445607143553262722009-12-11T15:45:00.009-05:002009-12-11T15:45:00.221-05:00

Macomber Turnips are prized for their creamy texture and subtlety balanced sweet-tart flavor. Intuitively, I know they appear on restaurant menus all over New England in the fall. Just for kicks, I Googled, “Macomber Turnip Soup Menu” to see approximately how many restaurants in Boston feature them. Eight out of the ten results on the first page led to a different local restaurant’s menu. (

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-3275280788146080312009-12-09T00:49:00.025-05:002009-12-09T00:49:00.219-05:00

Just in the nick of time, I harvested the lettuces and leeks. Hours later, the first real snow of the season fell. Though it didn’t amount to more than an inch, it was enough to bury the leeks and lettuces. Branching out of my usual side dish of leeks softened in butter, I decided to braise them in chicken stock and white wine. I continued in the French theme by dressing them with a

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-92062933772056263762009-12-06T10:09:00.000-05:002009-12-06T10:09:44.513-05:00

It’s really no surprise that Jews and Chinese food are synonymous. When typically thriving urban centers shut down for Christmas, us non-Christian folk have little to do… volunteering is out as most non-profits are already inundated with caring Christians. TV programming focuses on Christmas specials and football. And every store or restaurant is either closed or Christmas-centric. The only

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-64049499647516869142009-12-04T11:27:00.004-05:002009-12-04T11:27:00.680-05:00

When winter seems interminable, usually around the beginning of February, I break into my stash of jarred tomatoes. The red jewels of the summer garden were canned at their peak of flavor. And when I need a dose of sunshine, the bright, sweet acidity exudes summer warmth. In typical years, I can about 2 dozen jars. After I give a few out as gifts, I ration myself – one or two jars a month.

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2280543990010685358.post-21305691507574653352009-12-02T02:50:00.004-05:002009-12-04T15:03:06.607-05:00

When my parents took their annual anniversary trip to the Caribbean, they would ship me and my sister off to our grandmother’s house in Alabama. Once there, Grandma Charlotte would trot us around town to visit her friends or to the country club to play bingo and eat fried chicken. Wherever we went, the snacks abound. Cheese straws were the favorite: buttery, crispy and a little bit spicy.

Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18207184256646710317noreply@blogger.com5