I cook because I love to eat. I garden because I love to cook.
We recently held our annual Early Thanksgiving dinner – the 27th or 28th consecutive year we’ve hosted friends for a celebration weeks before the traditional holiday. Our gathering goes back to the days when supermarkets would entice shoppers with a free turkey. We weren’t going …
In my opinion there’s almost no stage in life worse than middle school. Zits are erupting; odors are wafting; hormones are raging; hairs are sprouting. Kids this age have no control and don’t really understand what’s happening to their bodies. It’s incredibly awkward. I went …
As little kids, my brothers and I must have been a grave disappointment to our maternal grandmother, Jeanette. She lived in a garden-style low-rise apartment complex in the decidedly non-glamorous section of Philadelphia’s Chestnut Hill neighborhood. As tradition had it, we frequently visited for dinner …
My wife Marci and I had a wonderful trip to Scotland last fall. Wandering around Edinburgh one morning, we searched out Pantry, a well-regarded breakfast, brunch, and lunch spot in Stockbridge, a high-end neighborhood with stately stone homes. The plates on neighboring tables were spectacular. …
My freshman year of college I resided in the dorms, and as would be expected, I ate in the college cafeteria. The food was acceptable, more quantity than quality. We occasionally used the dorm kitchen to cook a meal or two, but I consumed mostly …
My early childhood was mostly lacking in trauma, but there is one glaring example of distress I suffered about which I am reminded annually in the heat of midsummer. As a young child, I rarely had a birthday party. It was pain and suffering that …
Every year it happens. The weather gets hot and sweaty, and the zucchinis grow from finger to baseball bat-size in a matter of hours. I am swamped. It’s the equivalent of a zombie apocalypse in the garden. They can be so prolific, it’s almost obscene. …
I am hesitant to talk about the current state of my garden in the same way that when traveling I don’t discuss the traffic, lest a sea of red taillights appears around the next bend in the highway. I don’t want to jinx anything. But …
Some of the happiest days of my youth were at overnight camp. Camp Onas became an integral part of my childhood, adolescence, and development. I was a camper for five years from age 9 to 14 and a staff member for five more beyond that. …
I am thankful that during the heat wave currently enveloping the eastern United States I have air conditioning in my car. As a child, that was never the case. To fit three rambunctious boys in the back seat, our cars were always the size of …
