Throwing Ourselves On The Grenade of Bad Food to Save You
More general food writing from your hosts about their lives, growing up, what food means to them, etc. Brace yourself for trips down memory lane from a variety of authors, some silly, some sentimental.
I’ve written many times about my early summers on a cattle ranch in Texas, here’s one more story. I’m taking you back once more for a recipe I use all the time, my grandmother’s mayonnaise.
My first summer in Waxahachie was in 1962. I took the plane trip alone, and that by itself was enough to make the whole summer worthwhile. In those days, the “stewardess” would give a young traveler
A quick note. This story has nothing to do with food, but as always I memorialize the important things in my life on these pages. You will enjoy this story most if you have ever loved and lost an animal. When Russ was found in a forest in Utah, he had mange and was covered with – Read more…
I grew up in a family that was not sophisticated about food. We were not sophisticated about many things … the red Nash Rambler with Bible verses painted on both sides, our clothing from neighborhood rummage sales, our house on the north end of town … and our food. I trace our relationship to food – Read more…
Updated 7/17 I’m indulging myself in the beginning of this review by taking a walk down memory lane. Click here if you’d like to jump to review section. When I was growing up, I spent many summers on a big cattle ranch just down the road from the booming metropolis of Maypearl Texas, population less – Read more…
[The contest is now closed! The judges will take a look and come up with top favorites, which will be listed for you to vote on. Thanks to everyone for the great entries.] A few years ago, we had a food writing contest. It was so successful, I’ve lined up some great prizes, and we’ll – Read more…
Long before I moved to Portland, I was known for my sangria recipe. I always suspected I was invited to many parties just because they knew I would bring a batch of my easy-drinking wine punch.
One year my friend Patrick invited me to his birthday party in Healdsburg, California. It was going to be outdoors, looked to be hot, and
It’s hot, lots of people are grumpy, and I thought I’d re-post this old story from 2005, four years from the original publish date . It’s all true, and might just make you smile and forget the heat for a moment.
It was a perfect ham sandwich that brought me to the brink of an untimely death. Somehow, that all seems appropriate for me. I suppose I’d better tell you the rest of the story.
On a recent warm night, I stuck my head out the window and smelled summer; the odor of fresh cut grass and brush drying, triggering memories of long ago.
I’ve talked many times about my summers on the family ranch in Texas. I’ll never forget one of my last trips as a kid of about 16. My grandmother was getting old, and we knew she wouldn’t be able to stay there alone much longer. My visit was as much to say goodbye to the ranch as it was for anything else, as I knew I probably wouldn’t be back again.
