Honeycrisp apples — sweet as honey, but crisp as an October morning. If there ever was a fruit more aptly named, you’d be hard put to find it. I live in apple country just an hour north of New York City where, believe it or not, there are numerous farms within ten minutes of my front door.
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I realize breaded chicken cutlets are terribly passe, but doggone it, they are scrumptious-deli-o-cious and conceptually simple. And if you have a picky eater in your family—such as mine who may well the pickiest in the Western hemisphere—breaded chicken cutlets are going to solve your problem. The kid will chow. That said, chicken cutlets are kind of
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I had to laugh the other day while reading a blog by a guy who, on a quest for what might be the best chef knife, meticulously tested the sharpitude of a bunch of brand-name knives right out of the box. He took nine blades through their paces—slicing up a carrot, potato, tomato, etc.—notated their performance and
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I’m making myself a soft boiled egg this morning, something that seems to belong to days gone by and which always reminds me of my grandfather. (I’m going to give some background color, but if you only have time for the tip, please feel free to scroll down to the end of the article.) Grandpa Charlie was
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