Monthly Archives: October 2011
The key to successful pumpkin carving, it turns out, is having access to some kind of saw.
This Dinner Will Get You Laid – Pumpkin Lamb Stew – with optional eyeballs (full disclosure – the eyeballs will almost certainly not get you laid.)
If you’re planning on dressing up as any of the following: sexy kitten, sexy devil, sexy cowgirl, sexy bunny, French Maid, Dominatrix, you don’t need to be worrying about making lamb stew. Seriously. Cheese and crackers is plenty. This post … Continue reading
Halloween would not be halloween in our house without oozing pus chocolate cupcakes.
It was a fancy dress parade for dogs. In Tompkins Square park.
I like my Halloween with a dose of classic. Not for me the gruesome slasher movies of my teenage sleepover years – no virgin safe, no mirror unbroken, buckets of gore. I prefer a good old fashioned scary story.
It’s almost Halloween. It will be celebrated at work with compulsory fun – a dressing up competition with prizes. There will also be alcohol, which I’m guessing will help.
“Unbelievably” said Jen, “It actually tastes like pasta.” It was the inauguration of my KitchenAid pasta roller attachment, given to me as a birthday gift from Sheana, my mother in law. I had been wanting it ever since I acquired … Continue reading
I’d never heard of Pumpkin beer until I came to New York and bought a selection of Autumnal bottles because I loved the Halloween themed labels. Yes, I am a marketer’s dream.
It was my birthday, and I celebrated as I habitually do by going to Chinatown and eating a lot of duck with pancakes. Then back home for champagne and cheesecake and presents. I had a very happy day!
Imam bayildi is one of the all time great, most delicious ways to eat aubergine / eggplant.
The name means “the priest wept”, and theories as to why exactly the priest wept abound; possibly he had a young wife whose dowery was mostly paid up in barrels of olive oil. She cooked this dish for him. He loved it. She cooked it again for him. He loved it. She cooked it again, and that was the end of her olive oil dowery. Or possibly the priest cried in sheer pleasure as olive oil dripped down his chin when he took his first mouthful of creamy eggplant, and soft sweet tangle of onions. Continue reading