I cook because I love to eat. I garden because I love to cook.
After several months of living in a cramped studio apartment in St. Thomas, Marci and I moved to a first floor apartment that was part of the Harmer Family’s home. It was a great improvement: much larger, a decent size kitchen, nice dining area, and …
Have you ever watched a teenage boy eat? It’s amazing – and a little revolting – to see how much food they can stuff inside their body. They go to the refrigerator, stand with the door wide open, and eat whatever is in sight. As …
With three young boys each separated by roughly two years, my parents always gave us chores to do. There were weekend duties, cleaning specific rooms of the house, for example, and those we did on a daily basis. Daily responsibilities primarily revolved around dinner; setting …
If I have a free day – no appointments, chores, or obligations – I’ll probably spend it eating my way through Flushing. In north-central Queens, Flushing is the largest of New York City’s nine Chinatowns. It is bustling, crowded, and chaotic, a dazzling thrill. And …
As a very young child, my daughter Ariana was the meanest teacher around. She loved to play school with a pointer and easel, standing in front of the class made up of my wife Marci, my son Jacob, and me. She wielded the stick dangerously, …
I thought I had the perfect, original recipe; one that no one else had thought of, let alone posted online or to social media. But it was not to be. As I mark the sixth anniversary of Max’s Kitchen and Garden this month, I think …
After my first year of college, I decided to move out of the dorm. I still lived in a college-owned house with a handful of other students, but I was free of the dorm’s noisy hallways and the cafeteria that came with it. I relished …
Think about winter food; root vegetables, hearty soups and stews, braised meats. All delicious, they warm the body as we face the chill of the season. They are heavy and satisfying, getting us through the darkest, coldest months of the year. But sometimes …
My wife sometimes calls me the Angry Chef. I guess it’s a nickname well deserved, but only from my past. Our first apartment together, in the early days, was the entire second floor of an old Victorian house on Long Island. We had a small …
My father cooked all manner of food when I was growing up. His baba ganouj was garlicky and smooth, a perfect dip brought to many a party. We ate his brisket, fall apart tender, every Passover. He never purchased store-bought salad dressing; a jar of …
