results for "chicken"
Elements of Pesto Laura Schenone
It's beauty lies in the ingredients.
From SAVEUR Issue #135by Dan Barber A cookbook, or a book about what you're cooking? What's the difference? Margaret Visser's Much Depends on Dinner (McClelland and Stewart, 1986) said as much, long before the age of locavores. Equal parts history and gastronomy, Visser's book explores a prosaic American meal—roast chicken, corn on the cob, salad, and ice cream—and finds brilliance in the banal by looking at the stories behind the foods.Keep reading »
Eat, Drink, and be Merry: A New Year's Feast in Somerset Tamasin Day-Lewis
From SAVEUR Issue #134by Tamasin Day-LewisMy friends and I are standing on the doorstep looking out at the corona haloing the moon, a blue moon, which means it's the second full one this month; more than that, it's only the second New Year's Eve blue moon in two decades. There isn't a sound until a firework zooms up into the black yonder, and in the distance, over the Quantock Hills, there are fountains of pink and gold and green. We pop the champagne corks and bay at the moon. Every year I throw a New Year's Eve party at my house in rural Somerset, in the southwest of England. Usually I have no idea what I am going to cook until just before the day arrives; I'm too busy with the planning and executing of Christmas and the feasting days following it. One year I reserved the Christmas ham for the New Year's meal and served it with the customary Cumberland sauce made with red currant jelly and port — a jolly old British tradition, but, really, my competitive desire to surprise and delight even the most jaded of palates after a whole week's feasting knows no bounds. I have served everything from a Moroccan tagging to chicken Savoyarde bathed in cream from local Jersey cows, white wine, Comté cheese, Dijon mustard, and tarragon. This season starts and ends with feasting. Keep reading »
My Deli, Myself: Betsy Andrews and Her Grandmother Betsy Andrews
From SAVEUR Issue #134by Betsy AndrewsI was raised in a little place on the western border of Philadelphia. It had a blue-vinyl and wood-laminate décor, and there was always food on the table. I am not talking about my parents' house; I'm talking about our favorite booth—my grandmother's and mine—at City Line Deli, in Philly's Overbrook neighborhood. Our booth was the second from the door, from which my grandmother could watch other customers enter and I could gaze out the window. There, several times a week, she and I would eat our favorite foods: for me, a corned beef special, with coleslaw and Russian dressing, on rye; for her, chopped liver, and chicken soup with matzo balls the size of my fist. Keep reading...
"SAVEUR Editor-in-Chief James Oseland and I had an Isan Thai lunch with his friends at the Tourism Authority of Thailand last week. SAVEUR trivia: When they lost their World Trade Center offices in 2001, the TAT team worked out of our office for several months. What began as a bond over food blossomed into an enduring friendship. Eating great Isan food is like a delirious and delicious game of chicken—how much can you scarf down before the capsaicin sears your tastebuds off? "It's too spicy, I can't eat anymore," Kun Ping (pictured) would say, leaning back in her chair. And yet her spoon, and our spoons, came forward to dig up more lime-tart papaya, with its kissproof seasonings of fermented fish, raw garlic, and chile. The hot jasmine rice gave my burning tongue no relief. But as any chile masochist/devotee knows, that pain only added to the euphoric pleasure of the homemade meal." — Ganda Suthivarakom
We've always appreciated the Atlantic Monthly’s food coverage, and how could we not? Bill and Nicolette Niman, best known for their ranching; their stellar all-natural beef, lamb, pork, and poultry; and their animal welfare advocacy, are our favorite contributors. Continue...
On their 170 acres, Michael Hoffman and his wife, Linda, grow a small amount of vegetables, herbs, flowers, and cultivated mushrooms with a keen sense of attention and appreciation for each plant. Continue...