Because of the horrific way they are raised commercially (which I won’t get into, but you can look it up), we have long been opposed to eating veal. Until we discovered that such a thing as humanely raised veal exists, thanks to Ted’s photography work for the specialty meat purveyor, D’Artagnan.
There’s something fine and wonderful about a chocolate cake. I much prefer the sturdy, yet tender, straightforwardly deep chocolate kind — the sort that begs for a glass of cold milk – to a cake with any more embellishment than a lick of frosting.
Come to think of it, that’s how I like my chocolate bars, too: dark and plain. Ted, on the other hand, goes for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Cadbury Dairy Milk Fruit & Nut bars. Food for thought, there …
“Let’s make pizza tonight!” always sounds like such a great idea. But it’s a project with several potential pitfalls. You stretch the dough to the thickness you want, and then get a giant hole. The crust burns but the cheese isn’t yet fully melted. Or my personal favorite: The assembled, uncooked pizza refuses to detach from the peel and slide onto the pizza stone, until you give it a good jerk and the whole thing ends up splayed against the back of the oven.
My first introduction to sangria was the bottled stuff, Yago, which my boarding school best friend Wendy and I slugged down on weekends (don’t judge — I was 18). I’ve long since developed an appreciation for the real thing — when made properly, it has a balance of sweet and tart, with a good alcoholic kick. In the Spanish restaurants of Newark, New Jersey’s Ironbound neighborhood — not far from where we used to live — Ted and I shared many a pitcher of strong, well-made sangria with plates of garlicky shrimp, grilled sausage, and other tapas.