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…

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…

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…

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…

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….

Here’s To You, Mr. Martinson

~By Sarah Pascarella I’ve been drinking coffee since the ripe old age of eight. My first taste was purely an accident. One Saturday morning, my mother had gotten up from eating breakfast to refill her cup. She returned to the table, coffee pot in hand, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. Before adding to…