Sarah Linden is the name of the main character in AMC’s drama The Killing. Her colleagues call her Linden, because they are police officers and that’s how they roll. But for the first few episodes I misunderstood what they were saying and thought her first name was Linda. When he realized this, Bryan had a good laugh at my expense. I still call her Linda.

Linda (played by the totally amazingly awesome Mireille Enos) is a tough nut to crack. Despite being kind of a shitty (though loving!) mom, a terrible partner (her poor fiancé!), and a loose cannon of a cop (what rules?!) she somehow manages to elicit an unusual amount of empathy from me. I love her. Love. I love her smarts. I love her sense of justice. I love her silence and her rage. I love her Fair Isle sweaters and somber parkas. I love her constant gum chewing. I love her ponytail. read more+++

English muffins are one of the first foods I can remember eating. My mom has always liked eating breakfast at diners, and as a child I would accompany her to various diners on the southwest side of Chicago. This was in the days when you could smoke in a diner, which lent a certain ambiance that doesn’t exist any more. They were pretty magical places full of regulars, and sassy waitresses. Our usual order was two English muffins and an order of bacon (crisp, please!), which we would split. She had coffee, black, and I had orange juice. It was fun.

When I was a teenager I made a lot of English muffin-pizza-things. It was a good after school snack at a time when I was always hungry.

In Paris I like to get the muffins from the American guy at the farmers market on boulevard Raspail. They are delicious, and a good venue for Bordier butter or preserves.

You see, English muffins and I go way back. I keep hoping there will be an English muffin renaissance in Chicago, but it is all bagels right now. Which left me no other choice but to make them myself. read more+++

“I made you a white pizza” was said by Jennifer Aniston on an episode of 30 Rock a while back. For some reason it struck me as funny and has stuck with me. Maybe because white pizzas seem a little sillyfoodie, and also Jennifer Aniston. But white pizzas are also delicious. At the time, I thought it would be an amazing blog post title. I guess I still do.

I did make you a white pizza but I was so excited about it that I forgot to take photos. So I made you a red pizza and managed to take some pictures—not because it was any less delicious or exciting—but because I had gotten over the initial shock of having made a good pizza at home. read more+++

If I could give each of you one cookbook, it would be The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham. I’ve written about it before, but it seemed worth revisiting, especially after enjoying this custard-filled cornbread over the weekend. read more+++

When Bryan and I decided to move to Oak Park, we were moving further away from our friends. It was the one part of the decision to leave our old neighborhood that we were agonizing over. For anyone not familiar with Chicago’s geography, Oak Park is the first town directly west of the city center. It is still connected by the same public transportation and the Sears Tower (I reject its new name) is a major part of the view from our apartment. Think of it as a Manhattanite moving to Brooklyn. Or Hoboken? The point being, we could easily have moved somewhere else within the city limits and been much further away from our old neighborhood and friends. But still, we worried. Ultimately we decided to go for it, and honestly have never found the extra 20 minutes of a commute to be a problem, and we love our new community. read more+++

(Too much?)

Those of you who have traveled to Nice have likely come across a socca vendor or two. I didn’t imagine it was something I could (or would want to) make at home, even though recipes for it have been popping up everywhere lately. The recipes are all basically chickpea flour and water, with a little olive oil and salt thrown in for good measure. As is so often the case, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts and it can be made at home.

read more+++

You’ve likely seen these bagels before. Luisa just raved about them last week.  Because of her wonderful post, I considered not posting them here—but it is too important. Think of this post as a public service announcement. You need to make these bagels. For those of you that have experienced the joy of making your first loaf of no-knead bread, this is like that, but with bagels. I mean, what else is there to say? You. Can. Make. Bagels. And not just any bagels, really amazing bagels.

The recipe (from Peter Reinhart) is available here or here. But I wanted to add my two cents to the process.

read more+++

Italy is pretty easy to romanticize, especially the food. It is a country of grandmothers serving steaming bowls of saucy pasta, if you were to believe our collective imagination. I’ve only been to the boot once, but was there long enough to understand that it is an incredibly vibrant and complex food culture. I probably have more memorable/formative food moments from that one trip to Italy than on any other travels. But I still find myself attracted to recipes that play into my fantasies (or cliches). read more+++

I have been MIA, but with good reason! For starters, my friends at Floriole opened their bakery and café and I have had no reason to bake since freshly made croissants, tarts and cakes are a couple of blocks from my office. I’ll be writing more about Floriole soon, but if you are in Chicago you really need to drop what you are doing and go! It is the most exciting thing to open in Chicago in a long time and definitely my favorite bakery.

But really, my time has been spent planning Bryan’s birthday party which was this past Saturday. It was a great night with lots of good friends and good food. A few of the recipes from the Southern-style barbecue were real stand-outs and worth sharing with you. I’m starting with Bryan’s favorite, which is a recipe for skillet cornbread from the Lee brothers. read more+++

The first time I had a king cake I did not enjoy it. Not because I didn’t like the taste of sweet bricoche-y bread topped with icing and colored sugar, but because I happened to get the slice with the baby in it. For those of you who don’t know the tradition, a small plastic trinket (often of a baby) or a coin is hidden in the baked cake and the person who finds it in their slice gets good luck, or to be king, or to bring the cake the following year, or something. Well, for some reason at the time I had that first slice of king cake with the baby inside of it, I did not want to tell anyone I had found it. I’m not exactly sure why, but it seemed embarrassing. So, I hid the baby and didn’t say anything. By the time we had finished the cake and everyone was complaining about the bakery forgetting to include a baby it seemed too weird to fess up. So my first experience with this cake was awkward. Thankfully, I have recovered from my king cake issues and am now able to enjoy a slice, baby or not.

read more+++