Stories

I love pasta and seafood together, especially shrimp and pasta. This dish is dressed fra diavolo, like a devilish friar. Supposedly named after a Neapolitan guerrilla fighter, this recipe is a rathertraditional take on the southern Italian specialty. A little heat withpeperoncino (red pepper flakes) along with the red color of the tomatosauce give the meal a hellish flair. Pair with wine and no one canresist.

Make sure you start cooking the linguine in time so thatit is ready to go once the sauce has finished cooking. You don't needto drain or rinse the pasta. Simply use tongs to transfer the cookedlinguine directly to the sauce, which will better adhere to the starchypasta.

Every once in a while, the stars align: a magical setting.  The flickering call and response of candlelight touches the senses.

The right group of friends.  Cool night breezes filled with laughter and conversations that run deep and late into the night.

And, of course, the food...the fancy, incredible food. The meal itself...love incarnate.  Blood Orange Martinis prepare our palates for miniature blintzes dolloped in salmon cream followed by sips of ice cold, luxury Dutch vodka.  Sautéed radicchio leaves wrap and lovingly showcase asparagus, prosciutto and cheese, while pairing well with fifteen year old French Champagne.

Endive from Belgium drizzled generously with a bright, white-balsamic vinaigrette, easily cradle pungent Danish blue cheese and crunchy, candied-pecans. Warm, crusty rolls begin to make their way around the table....still more French Champagne to enjoy.

Then, lobster done two ways....first bisqued, then tails stuffed with crab, lobster and buttery cream. The tails sit atop clouds of creamy Yukon Golds and saddle nicely with tender green beans doused in a warm bacon-shallot vinaigrette.

I am at That Age. The age when once every couple of weeks, you check your post mail and instead of a bill (yes, I still use the United States Postal Service to pay my bills) or the 1,000th solicitation from Doctors Without Borders you've received that week, you have a real letter. Or, at least what looks like a letter - it's got a handwritten, maybe even calligraphied address and a return label with the name of your friend or... wait... the name of the parents of your friend...

I am at The Wedding Invitation Age.

Full disclosure, I'm actually a little behind the times. I'm among that "Creative Class" where people are either too poor, too career-focused, too gay, or too anti-establishment to marry in the "typical" mid-20s. But, at 30, I have finally arrived.

From the NY Times

Of all the things you can do with a radish — slice it into salads, chop it into salsa, shred it into slaw or, better, top it with a thick layer of sweet butter and a sprinkling of flaky sea salt — the last thing I’d thought to do was cook it.

But last spring I started noticing roasted radishes sprouting up on menus all over New York City. Even the fancy takeout shop near my house was offering them every now and again. Clearly, there was a reason to cook a radish, and I wanted in.

So I gave it a try, roasting a bunch of halved radishes in a hot oven with plenty of butter and lemon juice.

One mouthful, and I immediately got the appeal. Instead of spicy, crisp and crunchy, these radishes were sweet, succulent and mellow, vaguely like turnips but with a softer bite.

I continued to cook radishes all season long, pan roasting them instead of oven roasting when the weather became too hot. I usually ate them for lunch sprinkled with feta cheese and herbs, or sometimes left them naked but for extra sea salt and cracked black pepper.

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