Huffing oxygen, raw fish and luxurious popovers


I cannot stop gushing about how great my dinner at Sea Change was the other evening. I met my mother-in-law and sister-in-law for dinner before a show at the Guthrie (we saw Brief Encounter... also amazing) and we had a lovely dinner to start out the evening. Above is the lovely albacore/lardo/soffrito crudo from the raw bar sent out by the charming Erik Anderson. Being the only food lover I know who has a life threatening allergy, Tim McKee (yeah, we're tight) suggested I try the new cod on the menu, avoiding all things shellfish. Served in a blanket of sauce as light as clouds, the tender cod was nicely balanced by the smokey elasticity of chorizo slices scattered beneath the fish. When do I get to go back?

So many birthdays this month! In addition to my own and The Heavy Table's birthday last week, this week I helped to ring in a full year of Simple, Good and Tasty at Grand Cafe. I'm ashamed to admit that this is the first time this winter season I've had cassoulet, but I think I've only just begun to scratch my itch. The in house smoked sausage was a unique twist to this traditional french dish, and may just have been my favorite part. Good thing winter doesn't seem to be going anywhere, fast.

I love the benefits of food writing. The fame, the glory... who am I kidding; all I really care about the food. Yesterday I was at Lucia's shooting the making of popovers... and I got a bag of SIX to take home, plus the one I ate on the spot. Not only did I eat half of those popovers, now I want to make them in my own kitchen... and I haven't been to the gym in over a week.


Yes that's me, and I'm inhaling something from a can. Don't worry Mom, it's legal. At Febgiving this year I encouraged the purveyors to bring out the big guns and let us try the canned oxygen recently purchased for a write up. My verdict: the desire to actually feel something from inhaling oxygen makes you seem like a fresh-air junky to 15 strangers and tastes nothing like the grapefruit flavor it claims to have. At least not after deep-fried game hens and homemade root beer schnapps.