December 2012

I don't know what to say about the school shootings. We all spent the weekend besieged by those images. I am haunted by the spectre of Adam Lanza—the skeletal face punctuated by wide, alarmed eyes, that strange sculptural cap of hair. Our president says that these tragedies must end, but that is a passive statement. We must end them. Through action. If you have not yet signed this petition, I urge you to do so, and make a contribution to the Brady Campaign as well, if you can.

Period. New paragraph. I haven't yet given you a list of my favorites from this year's crop of new cookbooks, and there were many. I did tell you about Naomi Duguid's wonderful Burma: Rivers of Flavor (my review is here). Andrea Nguyen's Asian Tofu is another excellent one. I look forward to delving into spicemaster Lior Lev Sercarz's newly published The Art of Blending. And I plan to attempt many more experiments under the tutelage of Sandor Katz's essential The Art of Fermentation. But for the sheer temptation of bold, bright flavors packed into relatively quick and easy recipes, I will be turning time and again to Yotam Ottolenghi's new book, Jerusalem, written with his business partner Sami Tamimi.
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I was in the city yesterday and had the pleasure of two wonderful meals in two very different restaurants. Both experiences served to remind me of how unique restaurant food can be—and should be—when compared to what we make at home. The amount of technique and the sheer painstaking labor that went into the dishes I ordered are simply not feasible for the home cook. It was humbling, inspiring and satisfying.

Lunch was at The Nomad, Daniel Humm's sophomore endeavor which you can read about in greater detail here. The ambiance was surprising, as though we'd stepped into a Viennese supper club, or at least somewhere on Madison Avenue, rather than a small hotel on Broadway and 28th Street. There are passementerie-adorned red velvet chairs, chandeliers and gorgeous framed botanical prints.
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There really is something about this time of year that invites a heightened emotional state. As much as I want to resist the cliché, I find myself steeped in memories, haunted by the ghosts of Christmases past. The minute I've digested my last bite of Thanksgiving turkey, I begin playing our family's traditional holiday music: Handel's Messiah, Noel by Joan Baez and Misa Criolla. It fills me with joy and sorrow in equal measure, and I wallow in both. I don't want to seem maudlin, nor to keep forcing you into unwanted introspection, but there are some more things I want to share with you and this just seems to be the right moment. Bear with me; inspiring cookbook recommendations and cheery holiday recipes are coming soon. Some of what I want to tell you is tied to this post, inspired by my time in the hospital with G—who is doing great, by the way...
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Although by now you're probably used to my rather eccentric titles, this one may be just too obscure. It's an allusion to the fabulous Koko Taylor aka "Queen of the Blues." She was discovered by the legendary Willie Dixon, whose song "Wang Dang Doodle" made her famous. I had the pleasure of seeing her perform many years ago and I'll never forget it. But the title also refers to making hot chocolate just how you like it. Half and half? Rice milk? Bittersweet chocolate? Vanilla? Cinnamon? Chile pepper? Marshmallow? Have it your way. These days, I'm enjoying mine with the addition of Apollonia, a divine spice blend from the mad alchemist Lior Lev Sercarz. Youshould try goosing your cocoa with a pinch of this fairy dust, too.
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