MY DANGEROUS KITCHEN

I try to eat well these days, despite financial and psychological limitations. Here's some of my stuff and some of my thoughts.

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Meatloaf, zucchini, peppers and tomatoes in lemon cream, greens

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Click here to support Don Wrinkles' Eye Surgery by Julie Niederhauser

There’s been a death in my life, the loss of my person too great I can’t post any pictures since he died. So I got a new cat. I didn’t know the cat needed surgery. I want to keep the cat. Thanks for...

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Somehow I'm not shedding the extra holiday poundage.

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Half-scarfed chicken

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Maultaschen. Mahlzeit! 

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Nanny’s recipe (thanks, Mom)

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Meatfest in Prague: fuck yeah! 

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At the last minute Mom and Jim couldn’t come due to a medical emergency, which sucked a lot but thankfully everyone is OK. In the end I did the turkey basted in butter and then port wine with my Zoe as sous chef, and friends came by with these lovely desserts and more friends dropped by later and it was a very good time. We used that airbnb for all it was worth, and I managed it with but a few mini-breakdowns.

And then we cleaned it up, moved my kitchen back to my house and fucked off to Prague. 

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Been trying to get my shit together some before Mom gets here. It’s the first year she’s coming for Christmas since the Christmases of court dates and horrors past. Things are good now. In truth it’s been a good year, despite all my complaining and fears. Good enough to make eggnog to put in applesauce jars and give to the neighbors who make this part of Hamburg feel like home to me,

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Brussels Brussels sprouts sprouts

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Mom's toffee, still warm

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My colleague and friend who lives in Frankfurt responded to my whiny Facebook post last year about how I couldn’t bake snickerdoodles because I didn’t have any cream of tartar and you can’t by it here and it was way expensive on Amazon by sending me the cream of tartar, so I resolved to send him some of the first batch I got around to making. He liked them, it seems! Or at least getting a package, and who doesn’t.  

I use the old Betty Crocker recipe from my mom, though jesus god do not try to substitute German Palmin for US Crisco -- I nearly broke my tennis-elbow arm trying to stir that shit! Then later Mom tells me, “Oh I never use shortening; that’s pure fat. I use all butter.”

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Glenda, honey, your soup is so good! I let the onion steam first in the broth; you know how I hate raw onion.

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One of my fondest meal memories ever is of dining with Johannes in an Argentinian steakhouse in Amsterdam – Ildikó, he told me you two later stayed at the hotel there together, I can’t remember, what was it called? – steaks with a fried egg on top. It was loud and fun and we laughed at our decadence and talked about how ingenious it was to add an egg to the steak.

So I went and got a beer at Kiosk 2000 and am gonna fry up a steak with an egg, and probably cry and drink some more. Here’s to you, Dutch, you irreplaceable bastard. You are missed more than you could ever imagine. I thank you for all the many good times, times that will be in the film that passes before my eyes when I leave this life, and especially for forgiving me for the stupid year we did not talk, and for bringing me my barát . Not that you are there anymore to hear it. But all that you meant is as real as if you could stride right on in here tonight.

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Un cappu e un gelato per favore!

Superb coffee all over, including out of a supermarket machine featuring a much-appreciated sugar calibrator -- they pre-sugar your coffee for you in and around Naples if you don’t tell ‘em not to! Also, spy the liquor in the corner of the ice cream case: civilized! 

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Italy was fucking awesome.

My favorite country, my favorite food, my favorite girl. I’m one fortunate human being.