Those of us who cook typically aren’t content to keep it to ourselves. Our communal tradition of food demands some sort of audience—whether it’s coworkers peeling back the foil of a still-warm coffee cake or strangers liking the Instagram shot of your pad thai (#nom). When such sporadic appreciation fails to satisfy our egos, we tend to go big—and go home.
In other words, we throw a dinner party. Continue reading
For a girl whose lineage is mostly German, I don’t do much to represent my heritage. I know exactly ONE German word (duft blatt, which means “fragrant leaf” or “rose petal”) but only because it was the AIM screen name of one of my best friends from high school. I’ve never had schnitzel and refuse to eat sauerkraut. I don’t even drink beer, the carbonation (as with Pepsi and champagne and every punch ever served at a wedding or baby shower) making it completely unpalatable, despite my many attempts to choke it down. Which may help explain how I went nearly 29 years without attending an Oktoberfest. Continue reading
Girl and Apron 