After this weekend’s near-disaster, we will be giving thanks for hot water at Thanksgiving this year. We awoke Saturday morning to find the water pressure in our house had suddenly dropped to a pathetic trickle, which of course happened on the day we were expecting company. We had big plans to cook with our friend Soe, who was the winner of this year’s Saveur Blog Award for Best New Voice. His beautiful website, Lime and Cilantro, is filled with stunning photography and delicious Burmese recipes including the chickpea tofu he planned to make for the dinner. All this week, we have been cooking up a storm, testing new recipes left and right, and our sink was piled high with dishes from the night before. There we stood, unshaven and unshowered, in the middle of our war zone of a kitchen with no water pressure, and our guest arriving in less than two hours.
Extra! Extra! Read all about it! The crispiest tofu is sweeping the land! Say goodbye to soft, flavorless, boring tofu and brace yourselves for its superior successor. Our talented and dear friend Emma K. Morris worked some serious magic to create this newsworthy recipe, and was kind enough to share her secrets with us. Like many people, Emma’s dad didn’t like tofu, but she was convinced that she could come up with a recipe that would change his mind. She rolled up her sleeves, began researching and testing, tasting and retesting, determined to find a way to transform this bland white brick of coagulated soy milk into something that everyone will love. If you set your mind to something, you can accomplish anything—even the impossible—and that is exactly what she did. And her method is pure genius.
I (Adam) like horror movies, but there is one in particular I will never watch again. No matter what you say, or how you try to convince me, I promise you that the words “They’re Heeeere” will never pass through my ear canals again, nor will the sight of a static-filled television screen be in in the presence of my violated pupils. I couldn’t sleep for a month after watching Poltergeist, and now anytime there is a thunder storm, I can’t experience it without counting the seconds between lightning strikes and remembering that terrorizing scene. Granted, I was eight when I saw it in the theater for the first time, but that film has scarred me for the rest of my life. Ryan saw it as an adult and claims that it is a horror/comedy, so he can go ahead, watch it, and laugh as much as he wants—so long as I am out of the house, because there is absolutely nothing funny about a creepy clown hiding under your bed and attacking you when you’re all alone in your room in the middle of the night. “Comedy” isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I think of that. Every Halloween we like to make fun treats and watch scary movies… just not that one. Since the holiday falls on a Monday this year, people will be celebrating all weekend long, and we came up with a simple and delicious snack for the festivities: pumpkin cranberry crisps that are easy to make and so addicting, they are frightening!
We love throwing dinner parties. Sometimes we’ll prepare an entire evening based around a particular place in the world. Ryan grew up eating Cuban food, and we have often chosen that theme since we have so many wonderful family recipes. A typical dinner party menu would include black beans and rice, our 20-clove garlicky yuca, a side of crispy tostones, a pitcher of sangria, and the silkiest flan for dessert—a simple classic recipe that Ryan’s abuelita and mother would make when he was growing up. One night a few years ago, we were fortunate to be invited to a dinner party where our friend Sarosh cooked a feast of delicious Pakistani dishes from her childhood. Everything she prepared was so incredibly flavorful that we asked for a few of the recipes and have been enjoying them ever since. These cooler fall breezes inspired us to make this traditional spicy daal the other night and we realized that it had to be shared with the world. So with the permission of our dear friend, we invite you to try this authentic masoor daal, a simple South Asian delicacy here to welcome September with its spicy, warm, and comforting flavors and beautifully appropriate fall color.
I (Adam) remember the day we brought home the new 1977 Cadillac Seville. With a stylish light tan exterior and a dark brown top, it had more space for the family, the beige leather seats were soft and comfortable, it boasted automatic locks and windows, it was our first car with air conditioning, and best of all it had a fancy 8-track cassette deck. I still clearly remember the music collection that my parents kept in that car: there was a bright blue Barry Manilow Live cassette that I would obsessively sing along with until I lost my voice or until my parents couldn’t take it anymore and asked me to stop. My mom worked in real estate, and this was the new luxury car for showing clients around town, an impressive replacement for the dark blue ’65 Volkswagen bug that she had been driving since her 16th birthday. Despite its classy appearance, the Cadillac ended up having lots of problems over the years. When I was fourteen, it caught fire one night as we were driving home through Topanga Canyon. The engine started to make an awful sound, and when I looked out the window, flames were shooting out from the sides of the car. We immediately pulled over, and ran as far away as we could. There we stood, helpless, on the side of the road in the middle of the dark canyon, waiting for the car to explode.