Double-decker windows plus drop-chain ball lighting, this kitchen is the 19th century home of English interior designer and antiques dealer Rose Uniake. Her aesthetic includes some French touches that try very hard not to draw attention and are unmistakably stylish all the same. See more of the house here. My favourite: the floors.
Wheat done differently, this time, in Bhaktapur, Nepal. Photo by Navesh Chitrakar for Reuters and WSJ.
Who, but this guy, can nap on top of his own work? A Pakistani farmer catches a few zzz’s on some harvested wheat in a field in Peshawar, Pakistan. Photo by Ahmad Sidique for WSJ Photojournal.
Panpepato senza pepe, it says on Sinemage’s flikr comment thread. This bread is a classic rustic Italian loaf that’s rarely seen today. Panpepato means peppered bread. Senza pepe means without pepper.
“The bread was just coming out from the oven, still crackling and whistling,” says the photographer about the moment the pic got taken. Lucky for us.
Sri Lankan fish netted on a beach in Galle.
Photo by M.A. Pushpa Kumar for European Pressphoto Agency
Gastro Ghetto: Get there quick
Grégoire Jacquet opened his eponymous California restaurant in 2002, doing classical French dining, take-out and catering. He’s clearly doing something right, because he’s keeping two locations afloat. One is in Berkeley, in what he likes to call “the gastro ghetto,” because it’s down the road from Chez Panisse. Some ghetto. Reputation by location: is that a thing now? We’ll allow it. If you’re good enough to stand and hold your own next to a great, you get points for that. His second location is in Oakland.
Rustic varieties to the max ..
Cod shakshuka from The Cleveland in lower Manhattan.
I first learned about this dish from Bonnie Stern, at a James Beard class paired up with Mitchell Davis. Although it’s a Middle Eastern classic — I think Bonnie was showing us her grandmother’s recipe [or was that her grandmother's recipe for challah, which we also made that day?]. Either way, it struck me that this dish could pass as Italian. Simple ingredients, lovely flavours. Thanks to the Mediterranean for joining us up this way.
A nice change from spring pastels. Black and white is my favourite colour.
via Design Fetish
Almost there, but not yet: a farmer checks his asparagus under tarps designed to protect the crop from frost. Turns out, it’s an early look but it’ll be a later harvest this year in Woebbelin, Germany. Photo
Mushrooms always take me immediately into the woods, even when they’ve been cultivated in faux-woods arrangements, as most of our commercial mushrooms are today. These babies are beech mushrooms, aka shimejis, and I see them in a light fry-up with some olive oil and a clove of garlic [whole, for aroma, and then hauled out, I'm done with you], tossed with linguini, a few chili flakes, cracked blacked pepper and shaved asiago. Here’s Cozy Kitchen doing soup instead.
A woman carries bread in Diyarbakir, Turkey’s main Kurdish city, as the Turkish central government begins talks with an imprisoned rebel Kurd who is proposing a cease fire, an uplifting thought.
The Shishito Peppers at Stix Mediterranean Grill in NYC, a spot that favours healthy Mediterranean dishes, many involving meat on a stick, and yet, not in this case. Photo by Ramsay de Give for WSJ
This is by far my favourite day of the year, mainly because minor math is involved.
How to take the gag further … Read more…
Two inspectors sniffing what appears to be some gouda for a competition for the best farmhouse cheese in Kamerik, Netherlands. Imagine for a moment how much olfactory history and heft is going into this exercise, and how can I get in on the action? (Robin Utrecht/European Pressphoto Agency)
You can’t tell by looking at it, but blue crab is what makes this a dish worth stopping for at Pennsylvania 6, near Penn Station and Madison Square Garden, if you’ll happen to be in NYC some time soon. Photo by Byron Smith for the WSJ.
Learn to make it here. Four ingredients: flour, yeast, salt, water. Perfection.
Photo Delicious Shots
First meatballs, then sausages, then let’s not eat cake
The first and only time I ate horse was at Café Henry Burger in Ottawa, in the mid-1990’s. I was the saucier on the line, and horse was the special that night, a filet from the tenderloin that I was going to sear and pan-roast.
I had to taste it, or I wouldn’t know how to sauce it. I’m rarely squeamish about food, but this really got me. I tasted it anyway .
An homage to breakfast
A bacon scarf, hand-felted and pinned with an egg-yolk brooch. Read more…