Here’s my first disclaimer: there’s not a lot of culinary insight in this post. Here’s my second disclaimer: I am not a big consumer of soft drinks. Long ago I decided I wanted to stick to completely natural beverages. That means, water, orange juice, coffee and red wine. The closest I come to drinking carbonated beverages is Veuve Cliquot. But, I am a fan of food and beverage history –
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Summer Picnic at Wave Hill
The Metro North Train hugs the bank of the Hudson River, winding dramatically between the craggy rocks of the Palisades.It is one of the first days of summer, and it is a glorious one – azure blue sky, wispy cottony clouds and cool breezes.I disembark at the Riverdale Station and begin the steep climb away from the station and the river pass stately homes – some which have seen better days –
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Coca-Cola Cake and a Smile from 1971
He enters the door of the boxy pale-blue Levitt ranch house at exactly 7:45 p.m., and remembers that He has to trim the overgrown hedge this coming weekend. He rakes his fingers through his sandy gray hair, sheds his navy blue Brooks Brothers suit jacket and slips into his soft, tan cardigan sweater. She had long ago stitched oval patches over each elbow to repair the thread-bare wool.He feels a
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Beer and Wursting in Bavaria
Last week, a colleague -- whom we’ll call “Hal2001” – and I were drinking very ordinary beers during a Friday afternoon company function.“You’re going to Munich?” says Hal2001 with interest. “You should visit the Hofbrau House and write about it. Most people go for the beer, but you could write about the food.”I find the suggestion a brilliant antidote to
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Assets in the Kitchen
Chef Juan Pablo Chavez did what many of us only dream of. He ditched his corporate job to become a chef and pursue his passion for food.I’m standing in his well-stocked kitchen in upper-Manhattan. Chef Juan Pablo is a solidly-built, animated man with a broad smile. He is slicing vegetables precisely with a swift, smooth motion and preparing them for blanching. He is assembling Chicken Mole Verde,
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Fabulous Fifties German Chocolate Cake
He walks through the door of the boxy pale-blue Levitt ranch house at exactly 6:25 p.m. He hangs his Fedora on the hat stand, sheds his gray flannel suit jacket and slips into a soft, tan cardigan sweater.“Honey, I’m home,” He intones.She smoothes her auburn hair, straightens her pearl choker, and pushes through the green swing-door from the kitchen into the dining room carrying a cocktail shaker
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