Category Archives: Recipe
It’s been a rough few weeks.
In mid-December, my wise therapist, inspired spiritual teacher and beloved friend Terry Flynn died. It was sudden and unexpected. Although he had been diagnosed with the dreaded disease called ALS (Lou Gehrig’s), Terry assumed he had months, maybe more, to live. I miss him with all my heart.
For some reason — probably as an antidote to stress, this being the onset of that silly season — I’ve been cooking a lot of late, in particular trying new recipes from books by my Toronto foodie friends.
If you’ve read the previous blog — my tragic tale of the missing cookbooks — you’ll understand why the tomes in question are dear to my heart.
All went well for several months during which time I would visit the place occasionally to pick up mail and move items to my new place — mostly clothes, work-related stuff and some important papers.
My mother Ruth Schachter (nee Nisse), age 88, is one live-wire.
She reminds me (and others) of the cute little old lady in the original “Ladykillers” starring Alec Guinness and a young, dashing Peter Sellers. White-haired and blue-eyed, that sweet, seemingly innocent, slightly scatter-brained octogenarian is far more savvy than she looks. ‘Nuff said.
I was already juggling a couple of things I wanted to do on a recent mid-week night when I stopped by The Cookbook Store to check out the latest offerings and chat with its resident maven/manager and my longtime buddy Alison Fryer.
I’ve been championing Brussels sprouts for many moons.
Some time in the 1990s, when I was food editor for the Toronto Star, I penned a piece on “underdog foods” in which I named those that have a bad rep, some of them for no apparent or justifiable reason.
The list included these items: Liver, prunes, turnips, tofu, tapioca — and Brussels sprouts.
When a reader of this blog e-mailed me with a question about my recipe for Jewish Chicken Soup — the best medicine I know for whatever ails body or soul — we had an exchange about the source of that recipe: my esteemed colleague and longtime restaurant critic for the Globe & Mail, Joanne Kates.
I wrote this column that appeared in the Toronto Star in May, 2002, after attending the James Beard Awards in New York. There, I managed to secure an interview with chef Michael Lomonaco who escaped the attack on the Twin Towers a few months earlier by what can only be described as a miracle.
There’s a chill in the air. Time to get out the vintage velvet jackets and enjoy the onset of fall. It’s been a sweaty summer and I’m looking forward to a kinder, gentler season reminiscent of my formative spent in London, England, where spring and autumn actually exist.