The Condiment Queen Reigns Supreme

~By Kate H. Knapp My fascination with refrigerators began long before I can even remember. While Santa was delivering Barbies and My Little Ponies to my other seven-year-old friends, I received a working mini fridge that was the perfect addition to my playtime kitchen. It kept my plastic veggies and fruits ever so crisp and…

Wake Up and Smell the Kimchi

~By Kate Sitarz Learning to yield chopsticks with (some) refinement took around 2 months 5 days, or about 7 meals’ worth of dropped bulgolgi with a side of soy-stained ego. Developing a keenness for kimchi involved innumerable obnoxious grimaces and a forced taste bud evolution. Getting over kimchi breath required 3 packs of gum, a…

Recipe for a Perfect Meal

~By Kate H. Knapp In those quiet moments, when life is taking a long overdue nap, I find myself contemplating my perfect meal. I have been fortunate enough to have several in my life, where everything—freshness, flavors, company, comfort, atmosphere, lighting, and sound—aligned to create something that reaches beyond euphoria and makes even the most…

The Measure of a Meal

~By Heather Ray My daddy is a good cook, the kind who remembers all the ingredients and measures by instinct: another touch of brown sugar or yellow mustard or chili powder to perfect his irresistible caramelized sloppy joe, prepared for a family of four with “oh, about a pound and a half? of ground beef.”…

Craving Confit

~By Kate H. Knapp I crave duck like a newborn craves his/her mother’s milk. This need has gone beyond a simple pleasure and has now become a necessity. If duck is on the menu, in any form—confit, crispy, a l’orange, foie gras, shredded, you name it—I will undoubtedly do a little dance and order it…

Requiem for Raspberries

~By Marissa Neiderhauser It is a memory so old and familiar that it is not really a memory at all. I don’t actually remember picking or eating raspberries with my grandmother. I just know that raspberries are forever inextricably linked with her. Seeing them in the store, hearing them mentioned, running the tip of my tongue along their…

The Love of Cooking

~By Jaclyn Liechti They say that women are attracted to men that remind them of their fathers, and I suppose in my case, it’s at least partially true. My father is a great cook, and I find this quality immensely attractive in the opposite sex. Growing up, I didn’t have the normal ideas of gender…

Remembrance of Meals Past

~By Christine Sarkis Everyone has at least one superpower. I have been blessed with two: the knack of identifying a song by its first three bars, and the ability to remember everything I have ever eaten. It’s a silly trick, but one that is at the heart of my lifelong devotion to the anticipation, taste,…

What a Wiener

~By Katie Blais When I was twelve, I decided to become a vegetarian.  At the time my brother, who is six years older than me, was dating Kate, a tall, willowy gal, who not only shared my namesake but always let me tag along with her and my brother—much to his chagrin of course.  I…

Seeking Out My Inner Tortoise

~By Sarah Pascarella I am now in my thirties, and trying to learn to change my eating habits. Not the actual meals on my plate or the food choices I make, mind you, those I think serve me just fine. No, I’m trying to change the actual way I eat, which one could describe as…

Maple Syrup, $50; A Sunday Tradition, Priceless

~By Sarah Pascarella It’s funny how people determine what’s worth a good splurge, especially when it comes to food. In my house, most groceries were strictly no-nonsense. Nutritious, natural, nothing too fancy–these were the staples of our pantry. We clipped coupons and took advantage of weekly sales to make sure our grocery dollars went far….

In the summertime…

~By Katie Blais A bulk of my childhood summers were spent at the Swedish Social Club … a men’s club that my grandfather and dad belonged to … it was this huge old building on a lake that turned into a playground for my brother and my cousins and me on those hot summer days. …