There are nights when a Guinness seems like a good idea. And there is nothing in the world that goes so well with a Guinness than colcannon cakes.
Colcannon is a traditional Irish food – a mixture of mash potato and cabbage. Slightly fancier; add scallion and parsley. For all out perfection? Add shards of crispy bacon.
Served with a poached egg, this is a pretty heartening supper. Continue reading
Probably as a response to valentine heart-shaped cookie cutter withdrawal, the green food coloring ended up in my basket, and by the time I’d unpacked the shopping my mind was racing with ways to use it in celebration of St Patrick’s Day.
I’m not Irish. Very possibly uniquely here in NY, where people whose Great Grandparents were born in Hoboken and whose fathers are from Ecuador, tell me in great detail how Irish they are and hum snatches of Danny Boy at me. And then there are my Irish friends, with their devastating accents and trips out to an exclusive bodega in Queens to get sausages and proper tea bags. Continue reading
There are cold rainy March days when you might find yourself without any particular plan, wandering around Anthropologie looking at the spring dresses, wondering where the sunshine has gone, then spending a lot more money than you intended on a rose / mint lip balm.
I know it’s not just me. Continue reading
So I bought the lemons for pancake day, and in fairness, we did get through a couple of them, and there’s nothing wrong with having a lemon or two around the house. But I am a marketer’s dream – show me a special offer and I’ll show you 25 lemons for 5 bucks. So lemons exist, and must be consumed.
And you know what they say; when life gives you lemons … Continue reading
It’s pancake day – time to use up all the things in your cupboard that you’re not going to be needing once Lent gets going. Like eggs. And flour. Won’t be seeing them again until April. Possibly. Continue reading
We were in a diner somewhere in the sprawling vastness of Los Angeles, the morning after my school-friend Yoo Na’s wedding; a group of Brits, nursing hangovers and jet lag, recovering from the excitement of the festivities (and an exhausting day at Disney, Happiest Place on Earth) in need of a sustaining breakfast. Continue reading
It was my friend John’s birthday and the plan was that 10 of us would drive to Woodstock and hang out in a house on Friday night, Saturday, have breakfast on Sunday and get back to the city in time for the Oscars. That was the plan.
Jess hired the car. Husband Jon made the play list. I baked the brownies. Kim had the route all worked out. We collected Wendy who brought a sack of herbal popcorn, which tasted almost as suspicious as it sounded, and set off into the traffic. Continue reading
It’s been a week characterized by coffee.
Firstly because husband Jon, in an attempt to master the fancy espresso machine that was his Christmas present decided to sample many varieties of beans from the Porto Rico Importing Company on Bleeker Street. The plan was to try a different one every day in an attempt to discover which is our favorite.
Incidentally, the coffee machine really is the gift that keeps on giving. I gave it to Jon. He loves it. And makes me cappuchino every morning with it. Brilliant. Continue reading
The old oven finally passed on. But in true rage against the dying of the light style, tried to take us with it if it could, spewing gas relentlessly out of the burners and eventually having to be shut off at the wall and dragged away in a shower of rust by Caesar and Manny. Continue reading
