I am writing this during a break between 90-minute sessions of Public Law, which runs for 6 hours a day. I’m running on five hours sleep (for a month running), 2 cappuccinos and the knowledge that this is the last day of summer school.
Welcome to my blog. I document my adventures in travel, style, and food. Hope you have a nice stay!
All in Quick to Prepare
I am writing this during a break between 90-minute sessions of Public Law, which runs for 6 hours a day. I’m running on five hours sleep (for a month running), 2 cappuccinos and the knowledge that this is the last day of summer school.
Our dinners of late have been odes to efficiency. The baby usually starts to lose her cool around 7:30 pm, at which point Francesco picks up making dinner where I left off (that is, if I even got around to starting).
This is one of those things I was totally expecting to hate. I mean, it’s nearly entirely made of nuts. And nuts and I, for reasons unexplained, have never been friends.
I don’t know about you, but that photo makes me want to lick the screen. The only thing better than strawberries and rhubarb is strawberries and rhubarb together, amirite?
It’s pink lady season in Sydney, so I’m buying them in droves at our farmers market. This is, of course, an attempt to recover from pasta-pizza-prosciutto withdrawal, and to satisfy my by now ginormous belly.
As promised, here is the recipe for pasta maritata con cozze e ceci – fresh pasta with mussels and chickpeas – as interpreted by my stepmother-in-law (after many a painstaking meal at bustling seaside restaurants in the Salento region of Puglia).
I know, I know. Versatile Yogurt Cake? That name almost makes it sound like a cleaning product or a superhero.
There’s a point in every girl’s life when she realizes she’s slowly becoming her mother.
It might be the way you complain about bad drivers, the way you hold yourself, or the way you baby talk to your dog. Or maybe that’s just me.
Ah, the royal wedding. I had an especially delicious time watching it because A. we made coronation chicken salad and B. I was joined by one of my favorite people in the world: my friend Ali, who dropped in from NYC to hang out, teach me how to shop in Sydney, eat us out of all our Easter chocolate, and generally bring some sunshine to our lives.
You’d think that after having posted 14 different pasta recipes – and making countless more – I’d have the whole thing down. Especially when it comes to a weekday, throw-it-together kind of pasta.
As the first trimester nausea lifts and I resume consuming the things I once loved (welcome back, Earl Grey!), I need to resist the urge to shun the now innocuous fruits and vegetables that so recently made my stomach jump up into my mouth.
Attending law school requires industry. No, they haven’t asked us to make our own desks – at least, not yet. And so far this take home exam I’m working on has required patience, apt page-turning skills, use of fancy words and caffeine, but no industry. I’m taking industry when it comes to lunch.
This post is a little, scarcely photographed followup to my post about bread pudding. It’s one of my favorite dessert sauces
This chili came thisclose to being an outright disaster, twice. It all started so innocently. After subsisting on a fridge teetering on empty, pizza delivery, pasta with cheese and shakshuka for the last week, I needed more.
I can’t understand why you’re still here but, since you are, I’m thinking I have a good chance of being forgiven, right? Neglect doesn’t even begin to describe the state of affairs here at The Shortlists
It’s still stinking hot here in Sydney and will be for the next few months. Not that I’m complaining. Sure, I miss my hearty baked pastas and braised everything, but summer eating is full of simple pleasures. Like ice cream, which we’ve taken to eating by the carton.
Here’s a dessert you can whip up in no time at all, handles any number of alterations and won’t make you feel like you just downed a block of butter with a carton of cream.
I don’t know about you, but my favorite part of Christmas is, without a doubt, the cookies. Mind you, being Jewish means that stockings, Santa, tree cutting, mistletoe and Christmas morning wrapping paper mountains are all kind of lost on me