morsels & sauces

I like a shrub.  Mostly because I like sour things. Well, I also like salty things. And sweet things. And hot things. Okay, okay, I just like things. Especially if those things have strong flavors.  But this lovely cocktail is subtle, sweet, piney, citrusy, and spicy. It's the perfect holiday drink. And it packs a punch. A one-two punch. So plan to sip slowly. To make this shrub, simply grate up some apples and crush some cardamom pods. Then you let them soak in some apple cider vinegar mixed with a lot  of sugar. Let a little fermentation happen. Strain. Bottle. Serve. Pucker up.   To learn more about a shrub, see   here . To drink more shrub, see below for a fabulous recipe.  Once you have the shrub hanging out in your kitchen, you're officially qualified to dig your own shallow grave. Aghem, I mean make your own shallow grave. This one calls for gin, Pimms cup, and lemon. Yes, yes, Pimms is usually associated with the summer and Wimbledon, but let's

In this  Cook Your Books  series, I have chosen 15 books to read in 2017 based on somewhat arbitrarily chosen categories. My theory (bogus it might turn out to be) is that all 15 of these books will somehow connect to food. And I plan to write about that food. This eighth  installment is  a book written by someone under 30 . Lately, there haven't been many books that keep me up at 1 a.m. weeping on my couch. Lately, I have been arguing at book club that most 20th- and 21st-century novels (or at least the ones I have been reading) highlight the futility of community. Lately it's been hard to find books about connection or, let's face it, even meaning. Lately, such a viewpoint seems depressing, because it is not truly the viewpoint I actually take on the world. Lately, I have been looking for a book like this book. In Anthony Marra's absolutely stunning debut novel from 2013, The Constellation of Vital Phenomena , one must be ready for the brutality and cr

In a last hurrah to summer and, perhaps, even to the fall, I present to you this lovely tomato tarte tatin. And I wistfully bid farewell to tomatoes, or at least good ones, until next July. In the meantime, let's just drink Pimms Cups with cucumbers (probably from the hothouse) with good friends, cook from fun cookbooks, and settle in for the winter. This little inspiration comes from my latest acquisition, The Cottage Kitchen cookbook from Marte Marie Forsberg . Forsberg is one hell of a photographer (seriously, if you didn't click on her link in the previous sentence, do so now.  I'll wait.)--her images are lush and abundant and inviting and casual and snug--something like a Dutch Renaissance painting. Oh, I want to visit her cottage in England. I want her to make me dinner. I want her to photograph said dinner. Sigh . Her cookbook is equally lush. And it gives the air of casualness, but I am not going to lie to you. It is extravagant. I want to eat Foie