BitterSweet

Anything, be it a restaurant, dish, or book, labeled as “Asian” gives me pause. It feels like a reductive, overly simplistic term to encompass a staggering number of cultures. Even with a fair amount of overlap with shared ingredients and techniques, it’s less descriptive than the term “European,” which I daresay no food writer would attempt today.

For all my misgiving...

Serving food that’s still frozen is a capital offense. Serving food with whole ice cubes in it, however, is an asset rather than an error. After literally drinking through gallons of chilled soups over the years, pouring them into insulated mugs to sip on like savory smoothies, it’s staggering that the thought didn’t occur to me sooner. Gracefully maintaining their composure ...

Inspiration isn’t a commodity that can be bought and sold, nor is it a punctual visitor dutifully keeping an appointment on the calendar. Untamed, fickle thing that it is, it may show up late, early, or not at all, and there’s no way of knowing which. I can never begrudge it, frustrating as the dance may be, because eventually, albeit sometimes painstakingly, it does always g...