When you live with someone like Andy, it can be hard to know when he likes something and when he really likes something at the table. This is because his policy is to express how good dinner is if someone else has made it for him — I mean really express it — even if it’s maybe just mediocre. He’ll drop his fork. He’ll “Oh-My-God” a few times. He’ll mmmm
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When we were kids, summer camp taught us a couple of basic life lessons: (1) Kool-Aid stains do not come out easily, while Cheetos stains somehow do; and (2) on overnight trips, when the counselors “hang out” by the campfire at night, they are not just “hanging out” by the campfire. Things are a little different with our girls, who came home from day camp last summer, walked into the
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If you asked our family what summer means, you’d get a few different answers. The girls would say tomato sandwiches, no school, and ice cream. (Seriously, it’s a physical impossibility not to eat a Flav-R-Ice or a scoop of mint cookie every day.) If you asked Andy, it would be tomato sandwiches and road-trips where you’re driving down some county road in upstate New York and you come upon a
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Every year, right around this time, Jenny and I have the same conversation. We will have just finished dinner, and the kids will have disappeared upstairs to take baths or be mad because we are forcing them to take baths even though just they took baths last night, and Jenny will turn to me and say, “I think I could be a vegetarian.” And I am right there with her.
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A Few of My Favorite Things Thank you for supporting Dinner: A Love Story. As a token of my appreciation, I’d like to offer you the chance to win one of these gifts. They aren’t just items — each one was chosen for this promotion because it fits right in with our philosophy of parenting and cooking. To be eligible to win, follow two simple steps. 1) Take a look at this
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God knows, it’s not that I don’t love the kid. I have pledged my undying devotion to her here — she’s our firstborn, is kind to animals, has the soul of a poet, and is generally an all-around solid performer at the table. But Phoebe does not eat pasta. Phoebe, in fact, actively dislikes pasta. She hasn’t touched the stuff in five years. She wrinkles up her nose at the
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We could not have been luckier to find Ali, our current babysitter who comes twice a week in the afternoons while I attempt to piece together a freelance career. Beyond the fact that Ali has a clean driving record, always shows up on time, texts me with we’re-at-piano status updates all day long (no such thing as TMI in my house), and is generally great with the girls, she is
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Phoebe has been on a tear in the kitchen lately. I would love to say this is due to the fact that she’s watched her parents cook every night for her whole little life, and so now, at 9 1/2, her interest in cooking has finally kicked into high gear, but I think it’s more likely due to something else: Farm Camp. She has spent the last four weeks spraying
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Dear Jenny, This might sound paranoid, but one can never be too safe. I have this feeling that some kind of shadowy, proxy war has broken out in our house lately. It’s small, seemingly innocuous things that, when I add them up, suggest something more ominous might be afoot. It’s coming home every Saturday morning from the farmer’s market, unpacking the loot, and finding two or three large zucchinis staring
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It’s not like I stay up at night wondering how I’m going to get my kids to eat eggplant, but when the situation presents itself — in the form of an enormous garden-fresh farm share delivery — I’d be crazy not to try right? On Wednesday, Andy and I both came home from work later than we wanted to and found ourselves, drink in hand, pondering a mound of misshapen
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There was a time in my life when Sunday meant sitting down with my Dinner Diary and mapping out a meal plan for the week. Like this line-up from June 14-18, 2004: Monday: Fried Sole with Green Beans Tuesday: Ravioli with Green Salad Wednesday: Fajitas with Black Beans and Cheddar Thursday: Curried Chicken with Apples Friday: OUT (always in caps, always!) I remember telling a food editor friend about my meal-planning system and
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Abby: Mom, what’s for dinner? Me: Grilled cheese! Abby: For dinner???? Me: Yes! On the grill! Abby: What? The grill? Me: Yes! And without bread! Abby: What the…let me get this straight. Grilled cheese made outside on the grill with no bread? For…dinner? Me: You got it. And we’ll have some chicken and vegetables on the side.

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I’m not sure how often I’ll be chiming in between now and 2011, so I wanted to be sure to point you in the direction of anything you might need in the next 12 days. (What did Dorothy say: “If you’re looking for your own heart’s desire, don’t go further than your own backyard?”) So here it goes. If you are looking for ideas for… Afternoon Baking with the Kids:
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In the mid-90s, my father and I worked two blocks away from each other — he was on 47th and Third, and I was on 45th and Third, toiling away at my first Big City job while simultaneously trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. We’d regularly meet for lunch — at sushi bars, bagel shops or whichever cafe had a good Prix Fixe that
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I know — such a buzzkill that mom has to go ahead and add shredded vegetables to the latkes. But how else am I supposed to justify potato pancakes being the only thing on the dinner plate? Simple Potato Latkes Adapted from Faye Levy’s International Jewish Cookbook Grate 3 large russet potatoes and 1 small onion in a food processer using the shredding disk. Drain in a colander and add
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Rachael Ray would call a recipe like this a 30-minute meal. Cooking Light would call it “Superfast.” Gourmet (RIP) would have called it “Gourmet Everyday.” But when I was working on the food pages in magazines, I used to call it a classic Tuesday Night Dinner. Because in my mind, Tuesday is the night when you need the surefire shot of confidence the most. Tuesday is not Monday, when you either
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My 3-year-old nephew Nathan is not a big fan of vegetables. Or the idea of eating in general. I spent a few days and many meals with him on vacation last month and watched as his dad — my brother — agonized over each crumb that did and didn’t go down the hatch. Annie’s Mac & Cheese is pretty much his only ace-in-the-hole option — that is, the only food
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When my childhood best friend Jeni got married ten years ago, my mom and I threw her a shower in our house. I still remember the menu. Probably because I wrote it down in my Dinner Diary but also because it was so perfect if I do say so myself! There was a baked goods and pastry spread, a smoked salmon and bagels station, and my mom and I each
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