Yesterday G and I saw "Up In the Air," Jason Reitman's film starring George Clooney, Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick. It was adapted from the novel of the same name by Walter Kirn. The credits feature a lot of amazing images of clouds, as you see them from an airplane; fields of them stretching out forever, impossibly puffy, pneumatic, full of air. The movie was not the sort of romantic comedy I thought it would be. It takes a rather more dim and realistic view of the human heart and shows how the very thing we imagine ourselves to be can turn out to be our undoing. It was actually kind of dark and poignant and unexpected. Clooney and Farmiga are both gorgeous and at the top of their respective games (for once Vera isn't playing an impoverished drug addict) and the new girl, Kendrick, is fresh and unmannered. Afterwards, we went to Union Square Café, to use an anniversary gift of a meal there we had received from G's parents. I hadn't been in ages but it's really the same as ever: warm, efficient, enjoyable.
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Around the holidays, a frenzy of baking takes place. Everyone is spritzing out those German butter cookies, rolling Mexican wedding cookies, dipping things in chocolate and sticking on sprinkles. And god bless them. But ever since my holistic nutritionist Sally Kravich likened eating white flour to putting elementary-school paste up my butt, I've tried to drastically reduce the amount of traditional baked goods I eat. (And after that lovely analogy you may, too, right?) The refined sugar, the refined flour, the Crisco...it's just not doing me any favors. And because G cannot eat gluten, options diminish even further. But none of this means I'm going to give up the occasional indulgence. So when I feel like eating a cookie, I make these deliciously chewy, assertively spiced, buttery little oat cookies that pack a lot of flavor.
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One of my favorite quick and easy dinners is to quickly sear a couple of confit duck legs (my nephew Chase used to call it "comfy duck") and plop them on top of a nice mound of sauerkraut with a few juniper berries and let the whole thing roast for a bit. Toss a salad and you're done. So I was a little thrown off my game when G unpacked a couple of fresh duck legs the other day. What the hell am I going to do with all that fat? was my first thought. But then I laid hands on Alice Waters' incredible The Art of Simple Food and there was the perfect recipe for Braised Duck Legs with Leeks and Green Olives (two other ingredients I just smugly happened to have on hand, along with the required stock, wine, carrot and bay leaf; some day I will do a post on Essential Things to Stock in Your Fridge and Pantry). I got things started, and then G stepped in and brought it on home, stirring up some delicious polenta to go with the duck. It turned out crispy and lush, not fatty at all, and the vegetables caramelized into a delicious sauce.
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Does candy-making seem way too daunting? Here's a little secret: all it takes is a clip-on thermometer and a tireless stirring arm. (Doesn't even need to be yours!) More than ten years ago, I began making caramels to give away to clients and friends during the holiday season. They've developed quite the rabid fan base and, at this point, I can't really get away with not making them. (Quite a few people have suggested I start a business selling these caramels, but I think, like Haley's comet, their occasional appearance contributes to their coveted status.)
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This bacon-infused bourbon cocktail was inspired by the Old Fashioned at PDT, a cocktail mecca in New York City’s East Village. I think the star-anise-infused cider syrup gives mine a nice complexity, and the fresh lemon juice sparks the dark, smoky flavors. I entered this drink as a contender on Food52, when the theme was "Your Best Pork and Apple Cider Recipe" and , although it didn't win, it was one of the week's editors' picks. (Probably because it really stood out against all the ((admittedly delicious-looking)) recipes for cider-braised pork shoulder.)
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Once upon a time (before parasites and gluten intolerance had come into full focus in this household) two people developed something of an addiction to Kettle Corn, that aphrodisiacal delivery system for salt and sugar disguised as a light treat. We would buy a large bag from Whole Foods, certain it would last the week, and then devour the entire thing while splayed on the couch watching Big Love. The subsequent bloating and intestinal pain was deemed "worth it."All that had become like a fever dream of the past when I stumbled upon a recipe for Maple Pecan Popcorn in the now defunct Gourmet magazine. (Damn you, Condé Nast! or should I say Damn you, McKinsey?) I decided it seemed like a "healthy" alternative—no sugar, after all—and whipped up a batch with my own addition of dried cranberries and cayenne.
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"Just when you think it couldn't possibly get any better, it's time for lunch!" That was the motto for our trip to Kerala in December 2007. A couple of months after G and I got married, we took a five-week honeymoon in India. The first two weeks were spent in southern India with our friends Lisa and Scott, part of the time on these amazing old-style boats that floated along the canals. We spent the days lazing, reading, obsessively bird-watching, and observing daily life along the water's edge. We had our own cooks on board and we stuffed ourselves silly on their delicious regional cuisine, based largely on coconut, ginger and seafood. It's not what you would necessarily think of as "typical" Indian food (although of course it is).

I love pumpkin pie. What I really love about it has everything to do with pumpkin and nothing to do with the crust. It's all about the innards. (Yet another reason why I'm a good match for my gluten-intolerant husband.) I began making this custard years ago, partially influenced by the many flans of my childhood. I like to serve it with a dollop of ginger-spiked crème fraîche and some candied pepitas. And then I like to wake up the next morning and eat it just plain or with yogurt (or with more crème fraîche) for breakfast.
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I love animals and I love meat. It's a mind-numbing conundrum and one you can read all about in the news these days. From the works of  Michael Pollan, Eric Schlosser and now even the novelist-turned-nonfiction-writer Jonathan Safran Foer, many of us have come to know a lot more about factory farming, industrial agriculture, our government and even our own hearts than perhaps we wanted to. And let me say right off the bat that I'm aware I'm writing from a position of privilege. I can afford to buy the boutique meats that let me breathe easier. But if you learn even just a little bit about factory farming—about how we're forcing ruminant cows to eat our government-subsidized surplus of corn, thus destroying their digestive systems and making them so ill they need to be shot up with the antibiotics that are ultimately destroying our own health; about how the amount of methane gas released from factory farms far exceeds air pollution from cars—you know the answer is not just different meat. It's less meat. In a perfect world, no meat. But this isn't that. Still, for your own health and for that of the planet, it's not a bad idea to consider building your diet around legumes and whole grains and vegetables. Invent a new paradigm for your plate, beyond the antiquated notion of meat, starch, vegetable.
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I invented this salad a few years ago on a freezing January in Boston when I was desperately trying to think of something vibrant and fresh to serve at a friend's baby shower. Something to offset the usual selection of doughy, starchy finger sandwiches and cookies. I remember feeling rather discouraged by the limited selection of mid-winter produce. Finally I picked up some firm, deeply magenta heads of radicchio, a few shiny ruby grapefruits and, on a whim, a chunk of pecorino pepato and a bag of walnuts. I wasn’t really sure where I was going with all this but it just felt right. (You're probably saying “grapefruit with cheese?!” but I swear, it’s delicious.)

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