I’ve never understood the appeal of those plates with carefully separated compartments. I like messy, saucy, long-simmering food. I am a sucker for stews, curries, soups, rich tomato sauces, braised meats, and saucy pastas chock full of veggies. Anything that requires a good hunk of bread dragged around the inside of the bowl to clean

Maggy is not usually a difficult person to buy presents for—this is the girl who used to send Mom, Dad, and me a link to the exact item she wanted for Christmas. It was the right size, right color, right brand…all we had to do is click “add to cart” and punch in our credit

My first memory of Mother’s Day is the year that Maggy and I were old enough to orchestrate “breakfast in bed.” We told Mom to stay under the covers while we tottered in with a precariously balanced tray of toast, fruit salad, homemade cards, and a fresh-cut flower. We were proud. I think she was,

I’ve never been big on technology. I was the last of my friends to get a cell phone or an iPod. (And even now, much to everyone’s chagrin, I am likely to be caught without them.) I came late to the whole “texting” thing and was the last kid in my college dorm to join

I woke up—somewhat reluctantly—at 5:45 this morning. The smell of freshly brewed coffee (thank God for the automated coffeemaker!) wafting through the air and the first rays of sunshine finding their way through the bedroom curtains quickly soothed my wrong-side-of-the-bed attitude. After days and days of hazy low-hanging clouds and a constant chilly drizzle, this

Tony and I are on a much-needed vacation this week. Poor grad students that we are, we couldn’t afford much, so we’re at Mom and Dad’s Pennsylvania house for the week doing what we love: cooking, eating, and drinking. We’re also doing a little homework, taking long walks, and reading for pleasure. But mostly, we’re

Because Mom had a flexible schedule, she would always be around when we got home from school to take us apple picking or out for ice cream. We would hang with her in the kitchen while she made dinner and we’d all go shopping on weekends. Dad, on the other hand, had to work a

As a grad student, I’m not exactly rolling in the dough (unless you count bread dough). So, I eat pasta…a lot. But there are only so many times I can eat tomato sauce, no matter how fancy I make it. In this week’s USA Weekend column, I share my technique for making pasta with vegetables

On Monday night, I found myself eating dates, sniffing frankincense, and talking about sex with a group of women old enough to be my grandmothers. How did this happen you might ask? I attended a Bible study! Bible studies have never really been my “thing.” But, I kept hearing about this amazing interfaith group of

At almost exactly this time last year, I wrote a post called “Potluck-less” about my fear of, disdain for, and frustration with potluck suppers. I bemoaned the wiggly Jello salads, the endless casseroles, and the overly-full-yet-unsatisfied feeling left in my tummy by such a weird collage of foods consumed in one sitting. But recently, Maggy

Doughnuts have something of a hallowed place in our family history. Mom and Dad would never let us eat something so decadent on a regular basis, but it was our tradition to stop for warm drinks and a few doughnut holes before every long car trip. Maggy and I would always gobble ours in 30

Lately, things have been going pretty well for me in the kitchen. So, with culinary karma apparently on my side, I decided to try my hand at making cucidati—Italian fig cookies. Basically, they’re Fig Newtons on steroids (and without the preservatives). These little guys are amazing: rich tender cookie on the outside, with soft, spiced

We’ve been making a lot of soups and stews lately. That’s partly because it’s February and freezing. But mostly it’s because I’m (still) reluctant to attempt meals that have three or four  distinct parts. Yup, I am afraid of making chicken, broccoli, and rice for dinner, or some variation on that theme. Nothing shakes my

With all the snow we’ve been having, I am beginning to feel like I live in the Land of Narnia—always winter, but never Christmas. Why is it that snow after December 25th is no longer a holiday miracle or a winter wonderland, but an icy, slushy, dirty, dangerous mess? After five snow squalls and two