Monday, November 21, 2011

Monday, November 14, 2011

sweet potato ravioli with cheese broth

As my furry correspondent reported, dinner did not go so well the other weekend. You know, biting and all. But it was her first dinner party so I chalk it up to nerves.

It was still fun, however. We drank many gin and tonics and listened to the new Wilco album (very good) and celebrated some great news and marveled at the cuteness of Mabel and ate one of my favorite dishes in all of Brooklyn: sweet potato and sage ravioli in parmesan broth from Frankie's Spuntino.

At Frankie's, you get about half a dozen ravioli floating in a bowl of steaming hot broth that smells like butter and cheese and sage. The pasta is thin and super tender with the bright orange sweet potato showing through. I've ordered this dish many times at Frankie's, so you'd think I would have figured out what was in it by now, but I was pretty surprised when I found the recipe on Serious Eats.

Friday, November 11, 2011

a note fromm mabel

Mabel heer.

I now I am just a dog but I ned to tel yu peeple what hap-end. Most nites, I stay with Mommee and Daddee. They eet their fud on the grownd and I sneef and sneef and they say, "No, Mabel!" but I can smel wot they are eeting. And then we sit on the cowch very klos and it is so nise and I fall a sleep.

But the other nite, two more peeple came in my house. One was very loud, one smelled gud. They sat on my cowch. Mommee and Daddee sed "No, Mabel!" wen I tryed to say helo by jomping on them, frendly-like. I dont kno why peeple dont undurstand this.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

a better brunch

Friends in town for the weekend usually equals brunch. For cooler folks, I guess it equals drinks and maybe dancing on tables, but for various reasons, Dan and I are brunch people. The thing is, I don't like going out for brunch. I don't like paying $10 for eggs. I don't like waiting in line. I don't like being rushed through my meal. And I really don't like those cheap, "bottomless" mimosas.

Recently, Dan and I went out for brunch at a place run by a former Top Chef contestant whom I will not name. Dan ordered a glass of orange juice, thinking it would be fresh-squeezed. This restaurant is not a diner, it's a pretty respectable-looking place. The kind of place where the word "artisanal" is thrown around a lot. And we watched the bartender pour a glass of Tropicana straight from the plastic bottle. We looked at each other like, damn. Can't you at least put that in a carafe and attempt to fool us? We have that juice at home...where we don't have to pay $4 a glass for it.

Brunch at home, however, is a different story.


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