Chef Telepan grew up eating his own mom’s latkes. But here’s the thing: He’s Catholic.
No cranberries across the pond, but a bird, plenty of butter and pie spiked with Scotch instead of Bourbon.
Flying Pigs Farm’s frozen dough is entirely innocent of both trans-fats and machine handling, looking as lovely as if I’d raised the piglets and ground the wheat myself.
What if our four magazines united, like family around a holiday table, and printed one giant feast of an issue featuring stories from across the region?
Seth Unger is executive producer of the Food Film Fest, but his mailman is one of hundreds of people who know him as the source of an aromatic orange loaf baked in his Brooklyn Heights kitchen each December.
The Food Film Fest’s executive producer grew up baking crazy quantities of pumpkin loaves each December. Watch the man who started it all.
A jewel-toned Austrian cake brimming with raspberry jam.
The fruit’s flesh is foul, but the pit within is not. I was soon snacking on something enjoyably interesting, an ancient food that, to me, was entirely new.
I thought “this is genius and it’s the sort of thing that could only happen in New York.”
If you spend even an hour with a pot of boiling water, it really facilitates later in the week.
The chef grew up on grilled sardines, home-cured chourico and huge stockpots of the collard green soup called caldo verde.
Drink it straight, if you dare.