A few weeks ago Jon and I went to Hungry In Brooklyn’s supper club, where we enjoyed lovely food, congenial company and a generally all round good time. And there was a dog called James. And there was lamb.
The lamb had been slow cooking for most of the day. And James had been smelling it for most of the day. So by the time it was revealed and ceremoniously plated, he was pretty interested in having a taste of it. Big brown up turned eyes, mournful face, the whole nine yards. And when our hosts caved and carved him a chunk he looked like the happiest creature on earth. Simple pleasures.
Lamb does that. And not only to serious-minded dogs. Continue reading
James was introducing his new boyfriend to his cousins visiting from Kentucky, and wanted moral support so he invited a group of relative-appropriate friends to come along to the bar and be on their best behavior. 
I have given up chocolate for Lent, and so it is in great anticipation of Easter that I suggest this Monday treat.
There is currently a commercial on the tv where an infatuated suitor notices how much his girlfriend dotes upon her parents’ pet cat. The details of his dastardly plan no doubt forming in his mind he rushes home, turns his study into a special cat room complete with a cat tree and a cat hammock, then he acquires a fluffy white scrap of a kitten with big blue eyes, and ties a heart-shaped collar around its neck bearing the legend “will you marry us?†Of course the girlfriend is powerless to resist the allure of the adorable kitten and says yes.
The weather, having taken a turn for the better here in NYC, has pushed us outside onto the balcony, where we sit wrapped up in sweaters, and watch our fledgling plants as their new leaves flutter in the breeze.
Dauphinoise potatoes are among life’s great pleasures. They also happen to be one of my husband’s favorite things to eat.
Despite spending quite a lot of time in Italy, I had never heard of penne alla vodka until I first came to New York.
I am prone to blushing, and not in a sweet fresh faced English rose sort of way. Unlike 
My husband and I are taking a gamble that there will be no more thunder snow, no more golf ball hail, no more ice in the watering can and frost on the windows, and have planted out some of the spring vegetables.