Well, I’m back in New York after a lovely ten days in London, and there’s plenty I could write about my trip. I could tell you about how unreasonably nervous I was during my visa interview, or how my best Australian pals Alex and Rosey planned a surprise bachelorette outing for me, complete with Billy Elliot tickets (and no strippers), or how Leo and I took a fabulous sushi- and tempura-making class and ate a dangerous amount of white rice. I could describe for you how I watched four seasons of Game of Thrones while downing a full bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream on ice (one of my many weaknesses). And I probably should give you vivid details about the many mind-blowingly tasty donuts I consumed.
But I won’t, dear friend. Not today. Because today, only one thing matters: bacon, egg, and Parmigiano porridge. I’m here to tell you all about it.
My advice for you today: when in doubt, add tahini.
Judging by the number of jars of tahini I’ve gone through over the past few months, I must be in a constant state of doubt. I’m not mad about it.
My (un)savory affair with tahini started during my senior year of college while working on my theater thesis. Most mornings (and sometimes evenings), I would make myself bowls of oatmeal topped with unnecessary amounts of peanut butter to fuel my long rehearsals. But one day, I ran out of peanut butter and still needed my fix of #healthyfats, so I turned to the lonely jar of tahini in the fridge and spooned it all over that sweet, sweet bowl of oats.
The rest is history. Read more
This is a shakshuka appreciation post. It’s long overdue.
The first time I had shakshuka was in the hellishly tiny kitchen of my college apartment a few years ago (I’m a latecomer to the world of shakshuka, I know).
I woke up one morning, probably more than a little hungover, to the smell of garlic frying. Sensing that a hangover cure was nearby, I stumbled into the kitchen and onto a beautiful sight: my best friend and then-roommate, Daniel, simmering a spicy, garlicky, cumin-heavy tomato sauce on the stovetop. The sauce alone was enough to excite me, but then Daniel told me he was about to poach eggs in it.
The game was forever changed. Read more
One fateful day about two years ago, my mother (whom I lovingly refer to as “Betsy”) and I stumbled upon a kitchen appliance that would change our lives forever. We were browsing the shelves of Williams-Sonoma wistfully when we spotted a strange-looking item that we soon found out was called a spiralizer.
I had heard about spiralizers before, of course, but it wasn’t until I saw one in person that I realized they could change my life. I became enthralled with the idea of replacing all the refined carbohydrates in my diet with noodly vegetable strands. A new and healthier me would emerge from the wilderness of starchy, processed pasta; I would face life with my spiralizer in one hand and a zucchini or root vegetable in the other. Read more