Still water runs deep...but what about black water?

One day my husband came home from a business trip to Palo Alto with a rather curious take-away. He was quite proud of his latest acquisition and handed it to me as if he were the one to create, manufacture and bottle it up himself.

It was a bottle of water. A bottle of black water.

What? Really? Black water? I don’t know about you, but when I think of black water (which, until that day, I had never wasted too many brain cells on), the first words that come to mind (in no particular order) are: a) swamp, b) dirty, c) yuck!, d) ewww, e) are you f**king kidding me?!?, etc.

The Healing Powers of Food

One year ago, Super Bowl preparations were underway. My master plan, which ultimately came to fruition, was to celebrate the festivities in a big way…minus the actual Super Bowl. My shindig was called “Super Bowl Without the Super Bowl,” and as nine women gathered in my living room—no men were allowed—we dined on a cornucopia of foods, some store bought, but most of homemade dishes meant to please the palate. Maple bacon wrapped scallops, seven layer taco dip, warm crab casserole, deviled eggs and more—is your mouth watering yet?

Gadgets 'n Stuff: Rubik's Cube Salt and Pepper Mills

Rubik's Cube Salt and Pepper Mills

Remember Rubik's Cube? That wildly popular yet maddeningly frustrating 1980's white-red-blue-orange-green-yellow puzzle box that left all but the genius few stuck for hours trying to figure that darn contraption out? While I never personally owned one, I did break a couple in my day (temper tantrums fueled by my inability to make even one row of colors line up!), but now I have a splendid solution with which to redeem myself.

Well, sort of.

Thinking of the one (or two in tandem, in this case) item that is used practically every day in the kitchen, this little beauty seems almost as remarkable as the very Rubik's Cube Itself. Put away the Sugar Pops cereal, forget about the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and press the pause button on the playback of that old episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It's time to turn the kitchen upside down!

Out with the old (food) and in with the new...

The last meal of 2011

This past year has been one of a varied, if not a tremendous, culinary voyage for me. I’ve experienced delicious fare at pubs and restaurants throughout England, and, most notably, at the home of my friend Karen in Rawdon where sweet and savory baked chicken was on the menu. My dining proclivities led me to Dallas where, despite the sumptuous and pricey meal at a toney restaurant, the evening was not without interlopers which crawled about in the form of ants parading across our crisp white linen tablecloth. I have even had the occasion to pamper myself with delicate handmade crab and shrimp ravioli adorned with flying fish roe alongside a generously sized rock lobster tail—not once but twice—on the lovely island of Barbados.

Yes, There's a Bit of Food Thrown in For Good Measure

Click cover to order!

Followers of this blog know that my little place in cyberspace is principally about food. You see, I have an undying affection, dare I say a love affair, with cuisine. And why shouldn't I? Like air and water, food is a life sustaining force. Without it, we would perish. So for the things in life that are necessities, I reasoned that I may as well go all out and love 'em with a fervent gusto. Hence, this passionate affliction of sorts that I am all too happy to call my burden.

However, although it involves food in a roundabout way, this post is not primarily about food, per se, but rather it serves as a secondary or even tertiary subject matter. This is one of those times in life when I get to go "toot toot." And in case you haven't the slightest idea what that was, that was me tooting my own horn. I do this without compunction, shame or conceit. It is a toot of modest pride.

America, it's time to celebrate OUR cuisine!

Although America’s origins sort of began under the auspices of European colonization (notwithstanding the indigenous peoples in the form of Native Americans who were here long before the migration of Europeans to the Americas), the United States of America is American personified. And while there are many varied and wonderful races, colors, creeds and nationalities that make up these United States, this rich diversification has lent itself to a greater wide-ranging culinary landscape across this great land of ours.

I don’t pretend to be an expert on the culinary aspects of American cuisine, and by saying so I don’t intend to take any credit whatsoever away from the true settlers of this land—the Native Americans. Neither is this a diatribe on a history of the Americas. It is merely the inquisitive nature of one woman examining an issue and then asking a simple question:

Second Time's a Charm at Madonia Restaurant

Endive Alla Pastria
Photo Credit: Tom McGovern

It's not often that I return to a restaurant that I formerly deemed not the greatest from a culinary point of view. Usually I write it off as a bad experience and I'm hard pressed to return to the scene of the crime twice. However, I had the opportunity to revisit a restaurant that I first encountered almost two years ago. My experience there was not a stellar one and my impressions reflected as much in my write-up.

What a difference a day (or, as in this case, many days) makes. Madonia Restaurant & Bar in Stamford has hit a high note and because of this I am reprinting an article entitled "Success the Second Time Around at Madonia Restaurant" that was recently published on Examiner.com.

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Don’t You Just Hate it When . . .

I HATE it when . . .

. . . graham crackers don’t break on the perforated line?

. . . you order your steak, burger, salmon, etc. “well done” and when it arrives at the table, it’s burnt beyond recognition? Well-done does not need to equate to desiccated.  (Read my take on well-done food HERE)

. . . you bite into a scallop and you taste more grit than scallop?

. . . people double dip?