Whenever anyone asks me where they should eat in New York City, my first answer is Rosemary's. It's an Italian restaurant downtown that serves some of the best homemade pasta and focaccia I've ever tasted, along with local produce and pasture-raised meats. It's spacious as compared to most West Village (aka, my favorite eating neighborhood) restaurants with a comfortable yet sophisticated decor, including high ceilings, an exposed brick wall, and wooden tables and chairs. In the daytime, it's flooded with natural light via the floor-to-ceiling windows, while in the . . .
Hello, friends! I want to start this post off by taking a virtual bow and expressing my gratitude to you. Throughout the month of November, my cookbook journey manifested into an absolute whirlwind. Each time one of you sent me a snapshot of my book at your local library or Barnes & Noble, or of a recipe you recreated from it, was a pinch-me moment. It has been magical to watch Friendsgiving live out a life of its own - in the press and in your homes - reaching everywhere from Connecticut and Ohio to Montana and Georgia, places I’ve barely even visited myself. It’s . . .
Turkey may be the sturdy foundation that holds the construction that is Thanksgiving together, but everybody knows it's the sides that are the pretty embellishments inside - the midcentury-style West Elm sofa, the marble coffee table on brass legs, the impeccably-styled bar cart in the corner. Below are six Thanksgiving sides I urge you to try this year. Some - like the Brussels sprouts and smashed potatoes - are unexpected twists to the classics, while others, like the endive apple salad, are flavors you may not have considered adding to your menu before. Charred . . .
If I had to pinpoint the exact moment my interest in savory porridge was piqued, it would have to be the 2014 Bon Appétit article about Sqirl - the breakfast-and-lunch-only Los Angeles restaurant with a cult following. Although other restaurants were presumably elevating breakfast prior to, or at the same time as Sqirl, it was this article that opened the floodgates for me personally. All this sexy talk of chewy grains topped with runny eggs and salad-y things; thick, nearly burnt toast drowned in house-made jam in flavors like strawberry-thyme; a kale dish that . . .
My love for doughy things knows no bounds. In fact, my all-time favorite food is bread - and pizza, gnocchi, and dim sum (or any kind of stuffed dumplings) are not far behind. When I was a child growing up in Ukraine, every morning would start with a walk to the local bakery to pick up the day's bread with my mom. The crusty-on-the-outside, chewy-on-the-inside, still-warm loaf would be eaten with butter for breakfast, with kielbasa for lunch, and always alongside dinner, no matter what we were eating on any given night. To me, bread symbolizes warmth and comfort, . . .
One of the reservations I made right after booking our flight to Paris last winter was for Champeaux, a new-ish brasserie from Alain Ducasse in the revamped Les Halles market. When we got there two months later, the restaurant was gorgeous. Sprawling, with floor to ceiling windows, a wrap-around marble bar, and these sexy, black leather booths with Mad Men-era chairs opposite them. As we walked inside from the freezing cold, we were greeted by a friendly host, who quickly offered to converse in English. “No way, Jose,” I thought - I was fresh out of a French class . . .
When I still lived in Ditmas Park, one of my favorite Friday night activities was to order a giant burrito from one of the awesome Mexican places nearby (Cinco de Mayo and Los Mariachis, if you must know). I would devour it on my bed, in my 'jammies, while sipping on a Sixpoint Sweet Action, and watching Netflix. I realize it's not the most glamorous activity for a gal to engage in on a Friday night, but after an exhausting week of work, rubbing shoulders with strangers at some crowded bar is no longer my idea of a good time. Can I get a "hell yeah!" from my fellow . . .