Dinner at Eight

Big Bag of Green March, 2011

Poor collard greens. At your green grocers, you’ll find them rudely crammed together with all the other unsexy vegetables: kale, turnip greens, mustard greens and dandelion leaves, their nearest neighbours the barnacle-like lumps of celery root and kohlrabi. The star vegetables—broccolini, asparagus, endive and woodland mushrooms—get the prime real estate. Here in Canada, the collard greens are shunted away from the stoplight, but their Q-score really spikes in the American South, where, along with black-eyed peas, grits and cornbread, they form the spine of fine Southern cooking.

Ice Queen January, 2011

It’s no wonder that Gstaad is the perfect winter fairy-tale village. Snow-dusted chalets tucked into Alpine forests, majestic mountains that loom like benevolent giants, sparkling air that awakens the senses and scads of celebrities and zillionaires rubbing shoulders with local dairy farmers and rosy-cheeked tourists, all of them enjoying hot coffee and apple strudel in local cafés.

Hostess Dos and Don’ts December, 2010

Even the most kitchen illiterate among us will be playing hostess this December. Like death, taxes and Lady Gaga, it’s unavoidable that:

1. The doorbell will ring.

2. Someone (a friend, relative or co-worker) will be standing there with a small parcel. (Oh, Santa Baby, let it be handmade champagne truffles!)

Party People October, 2010

How I would like to entertain:

On the appointed evening at the stroke of 7pm, I would like it very much indeed if my private elevator would gently disgorge my elegantly-attired guests, (women in full-on jewels, please; men in suits), in the flower bedecked foyer while I clickety-clacked my way across the wide expanse of white marble floor to welcome them in my Pilates-toned arms. A grand and glorious meal would await us. It was planned just so with my personal chef and sommelier. Conversation would be dazzling. Laughter would fill the room. The women, never more beautiful, eyes bright, hair bountiful. The men never more masculine, Caesar’s all.

Simply Red September, 2010

Today, tomatoes are a ubiquitous sight throughout North American cuisine, with our red sauce joints, ketchup on fries and hamburgers and zesty tomato salads at picnics. You might be surprised to know that historically, the tomato (or the Moor’s apple, as it was initially called)—a member of the nightshade family, which includes bell peppers and potatoes—was avoided because it was believed to be toxic.

Buy the Sea August, 2010

Barefoot and blond, Goldie Hawn sat curled up on her floral-patterned sofa in her Malibu beach house. Barbara Walters was grilling Hawn (tenderly, like calamari) for one of her pre-Oscar telecasts. Hawn was at the top of her game then, as not only a hot film actress but also a successful director and producer in the big payday boys club that is Hollywood. As Walters rattled off her recent accomplishments, Hawn’s eyes misted and her voice wobbled.

Surface to Air July, 2010

What’s the best thing about summer? Foodies say “It’s the barbecue, stupid!” Put just about anything from the animal, vegetable or mineral kingdom on a hot, spitting grill, baste, turn and baste again, and it will taste good. Grill, baby, grill. So primal. Forget the foreplay and skip straight to the sizzle. But here’s the spoiler alert: Grilling creates carcinogens in food, so think of barbecuing as the unprotected sex of the culinary world; be selective and keep the odds in your favour.

Oil Be Seeing You June, 2010

Whenever I covet something—say, a pretty frock—if it’s green, I know I’m in luck. It will sit for months on the selling floor until I swoop in and scoop it up when it’s on sale, just before it’s shipped to a discount outlet in Ohio. Ask any savvy retailer and she’ll tell you: Green does not sell. Black makes people look serious. Red makes them look powerful. White makes them look holier-than-thou. But green mostly makes people look like they’ve just returned from a cruise that hit rough waters.

Mom's Apple Day May, 2010

Strawberry tarts—each one topped with half of a big, glazed berry, pointy end up—were lined up like soldiers in the Red Queen’s army behind the glass counter at Health Bread Bakery. I would gaze at the perfect, shiny tarts and pester my mother to buy me some. Sometimes she did, but other times I heard “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach” as she turned her attention back to the clerk to order a triple-kimmel rye, sliced thin. I had a habit of craving the pretty foods and then losing interest in them after a bite or two. As lovely as the tarts were, they actually weren’t very good.

Eastern Promises April, 2010

The branches of the casuarina trees bend under the warm tropical winds, just like the lithe bodies performing sun salutations in this morning’s yoga class led by Miss Saraswati. Here at Parrot Cay in Turks and Caicos – every day a perfect 27 degrees, every afternoon a massage amid the lush vegetation, every evening a glass of rosé in honour of the glorious sunset – tip-tapping away on a laptop is the last thing on one’s mind. However, as Poetry of Food never sleeps, one’s attention must return to last night’s meal: a fine mélange of vegetables and red rice.

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