Or maybe I should say, “lawbstah rolls.” That’s how my grandfather would have said it.
My Pop-Pop Genovese, along with several of his brothers, and my uncle Mark all made their living as commercial fisherman. My maternal great grandparents emigrated from Sicily in the early 1900’s to Gloucester, Massachusetts, a fishing village made famous by the book and movie “The Perfect Storm.”
Back in the swingin’ sixties, Pop-Pop and two of his brothers purchased their own fishing vessel, “The White Dove,” and uprooted their families from Gloucester to Cape May, NJ in pursuit of a better opportunity. Continue reading →
We interrupt this stream of tomato chatter to bring you an ingenious solution to a problem that seems unavoidable this time of year. Well, only if you keep boatloads of sweet summer produce on your counters.
You may currently be suffering from fruit flies. Symptoms include: seeing tiny specks in front of your eyes, feelings of severe irritation and annoyance, excessive cleaning of the kitchen, and the absolute worst: finding larvae crawling on your precious hand picked fruits.
Shudder. Even the word larvae gives me the heebie jeebies. When it gets to this point, you know you have a problem. Continue reading →
Last week, I woke up dreaming about this beautiful French tomato tart that I had made a few years ago. You guys dream about food, too, don’t you?
It had a crispy, buttery crust, tangy Dijon mustard, perfectly ripe tomatoes, and big rounds of creamy goat cheese – that to the unknowing eye looked a little more like seared scallops than cheese (oops, sorry Chaser). Continue reading →
A little over one year ago, I started this blog as an outlet to write about my ridiculous fascination with food.
Then, I took a brief hiatus to film a little show called Food Network Star, and spent the last 11 weeks writing recaps about each episode. That was cool and all, but I’m really excited to get back to writing about what this blog was originally intended for: FOOD! Continue reading →
Well, it’s all over. And, I didn’t win. Womp, womp.
But, hey, it’s ok!
When Bob Tuschman opened the red envelope and announced that I had come in third, Emma immediately ran over and threw her arms around me. If you watch my lips closely, you can see me whisper to her, “It’s all good!”