Copious amounts of summer fruit have invaded my house.
Throughout strawberry season – which lasts all summer in Oregon – our kitchen is rarely without a few tiny blue baskets of strawberries.
First, it's early January.
Certain things change when you get married.
"Pudding" is a common item on any British menu.
When we lived in Brooklyn – which seems like at least a year ago, but in reality was a mere four months ago – I visited Brooklyn Larder three to four times a week.
After yesterday's Fourth of July festivities, Thanksgiving's standing as my favorite holiday is in danger.
I've come to rely on afternoon snack breaks.
When I brought home six pints of strawberries, my vague ideas about what to do with them consisted mostly of what I didn't want to do with them.
I learned last year that I don't have the tastebuds or palate to eat rhubarb as a main part of a savory dish, like in pasta or soup.
I tend to glance at the 10-day weather forecast more often than is healthy.
Smelling a ripe peach immediately brings to mind several food memories: summers on my parents' deck, eating the fruit as quickly as I could as it leaked all over my arm.
These gingerbread people are a motley crew.
I'm intrigued by how certain recipes incorporate flavors in untraditional ways.
Do you think this looks like "the death star exploded" (Justin) or something "otherworldly and beautiful" (me)?
I brought a bagful of Red Jacket Orchards’ apricots home with me on Thursday.
It happens every few weeks: I crave a fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie.
For me, blueberry pie evokes images of Maine, sunflowers, and sitting by the ocean.
I wanted to prepare a low impact dessert, one that wouldn't heat up the kitchen to an insufferable temperature.
I made these portable pies yesterday and we've been munching on them all weekend.
On Monday, we picked up our first pint of cherries of the season!
I wanted to share this recipe as soon as possible, before it's too late to make it!
Since I’ve weathered the storm—though my kitchen, even after cleaning for an hour last night is still in disarray—the recipe at the end of this post is my adapted take, with the steps in the order I think they should be.
I will humbly admit that I loved how my first cake came out.
We viewed the 4th of July as the official kick-off of our summer in Brooklyn.
As the farmers' markets continue their spring time unveiling, you can now find rhubarb at many of the stands.