Posts from July 2011

Sometimes at work, I catch myself writing emails that would make no sense to an outsider. "Project banana is up to 92%" "What's the IO in the AOP?" I always muse at this, but just realized that this happens in my kitchen too.

You like eggs, I like eggs. But the time of day during which we each enjoy tolerate eggs likely differs. I take a strong position here: eggs are for breakfast and have no other place in my life.

The isla bonita taco truck is a welcome neighbor. Serving up the finest shrimp ($2.50) and carnitas tacos ($1.50) a few blocks away, it is a regular source of weekend treats. But this weekend, we did something different with our tacos.

I've noted in a previous post that I lack fondness for the term "curry" as a catch all phrase for Indian dishes. It ignores the subtleties of each unique dish, the fact that they have different bases (tomato, cream, nuts), and the fact that there are lots of wonderful items that are not technically curries.

Unless you've been living under a rock (or are a new to this blog), you'll know that my obsession with Thai food runs deep. In fact, some of my bridesmaids admitted after my wedding that they had been shocked that there had not been Asian food at any point during the wedding weekend.

When I was little, I would take hours to finish my dinner, which generally comprised of dahl (lentils), subzi, (veggies), and roti (homemade flat wheat bread). My mom would bring a fresh, hot roti to my plate and put a thick slab of butter on there, which I would watch melt and drip across the roti and onto my plate with delight.

Vegetables have a nasty habit of fighting back. Given the chance, garlic will issue a bitter tasting sprout. Herbs are happy one day, consumed by a juicy rot the next. Overgrown cucumbers will try to hunt you down in your very own kitchen.

I grew up in NJ, home to some of the best pizza in the world, so, naturally, I'm a pizza lover. When someone asked me what my favorite food was as a kid, I would look up with a toothy grin and squeal, "piiiizzzzzzzaaa!" Today, although my response to the question has shifted to a calmer "sushi and pizza," the childhood delight I felt for pizza remains very much the same.

Whenever we dine out, I find myself staring at those solo diners, fascinated by their book-reading, silent-Bob, lost-in-thought ways. I marvel at those who don't mind eating out by themselves because I do.

Unlike Lizzy, who is harvesting her kale in a down jacket in July, I have had my first hot summer. I've spent every summer except the last two in the Bay Area, famous for its world class summer fog.

Editor's note: Today we have guest blogger Lizzy with wisdom on growing your own food! I've had two big revelations this summer. #1) Things grow in San Francisco. #2) Growing your own food changes the way you eat.

I guess you could say my love affair with entrepreneurship started as a child. When I was 5 or 6 or so, my best friend at the time, Jessica, (she lived across the street and we were joined at the hip), and I set out on to conquer the world with lemonade.

One of the most popular food blogs out there is 101 Cookbooks, a site started by a woman who one day looked up at her vast collection of cookbooks and decided it was time to stop collecting books and to start cooking.

I went to Philly this weekend to visit my niece (I know... I just saw her last weekend, but clearly I can't get enough of her), and was welcomed back to a pile of rotting bananas in my apartment.

We can all sleep well: the Cheesecake Factory, Chipotle and Red Robin are making just as much money as ever. Despite a new law in Maryland requiring chain restaurants to display calorie counts next to each menu item, the Washington Post reported yesterday that diners continue to consume 1800 calorie meals (in one sitting).

As you walk up to the door of any given restaurant in Los Angeles, the first thing you are greeted with is not a pleasantly framed menu. Nor a smiling hostess. Instead, glaring you down is a large sign with a letter grade.

I got to see the most beautiful baby in the world this weekend: my niece. My sister's husband's family hails from Manassas, VA, so I hopped a bus, a train and a car to pay homage to the cuteness that is Jayna Patel.

Growing up, my mom was a very popular lady on the potluck circuit. Her famous corn salad was the toast of the town and was synonymous with summer parties in my mind. Now that I have my own parties to go to, this corn salad is my go-to for warm evening barbecues and sometimes, special lunches for myself.

As an MBA intern, you might think one of your first acts would be to perform an NPV analysis, perhaps mock up some slides. But not at my internship. My first deadline was to bring cookies.