All posts filed under: Creations

The House Votes: Hope Dana

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  I met Hope a million years ago at a Christmas party at her brother’s, with whom I was friends back in my twenties. I knew she was an architect, and that alone intimidated me enough. She was also outgoing and smart, kind and confident, and an alumnus of Miss Porter’s. Basically, everything this girl from the South Shore of Long Island wished she had been. (Hey, at least I own it…) Fast forward some 20-odd years later, I  noticed a woman and her mom looking adoringly at Remy as we sat waiting for our coffee one morning at the Southfield Store up in the Berks. I brought Remy over to say hi to these dog lovers and the daughter asked, “Are you Jane Larkworthy?” It was Hope, and her mom, Bunny, whom I also had known way back when. (who forgets someone named Bunny???). Wouldn’t you know it, Hope’s house is in the town just south of ours. Not only that, she and her husband John are avid cyclists and, as often happens up …

Ina Gonna Lie. I Don’t Watch Her Show

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Bertrand and Remy come upstairs and rouse me around 9am this morning. “Honey, do you know the Barefoot Contessa?” “You mean, oh, what’s her name? The woman on TV?” “I don’t know,” he answers. “But she’s at the Store. They’re filming the Barefoot Contessa there. Rose is all excited. She said she has to make 20 coffees.” “Did she still give Remy cheese?” I ask, always putting my child’s needs before anyone else’s. “Yes,” he smiles as Remy licks my face. “Is the Contessa blonde?” That slows down my resolve to get dressed and run over to check out the action. “She’s brunette,” I answer. “Bangs, shoulder length hair. Twinkly smile.” Okay, I didn’t actually say “twinkly smile” but it is, so I’m adding. We get to the Southfield Store and see this. We walk right past the crew, jaded and disinterested New Yorkers, but with our phones set on camera mode as they swing at our sides, hoping our thumbs will deliver something in focus as they discreetly but busily click away. There was …

Just Five Spoonfuls of Sugar

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If you’ve been drinking the same beverage for decades, I do not understand you. Don’t you get bored? Just so we’re clear, I’m not referring to alcohol. I’m talking about the bottle or glass or cup of whatever that sits on your desk, or on your bedside table, or in your car’s cup holder, day in, day out. If it’s coffee, it can’t always be coffee, can it? Or are you the type who starts with a coffee (or latte or chai) in the morning, then switches over to water for the rest of the day? Well, I don’t understand you, either. I do understand how important hydration is, but back to my first question: Don’t you get bored? Then there are the Diet Coke loyalists, whose taste buds I really do not understand (Seriously. That’s what you’re wasting your addictive side on??) The fact that I’m so curious about this was beginning to make me think that I just have too much time on my hands, until I brought it up to my friend Kerry, who also …

Idiot’s Delight

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We are idiots. It’s one thing to stress about the menu when your guests are a bunch of fancy foodies, but it really makes no sense to stress when a) you’re cooking just for family members, and b) you’re only responsible for the sides. Nope, being the kitchen show-offs we are, we decided we had to a) make five sides and two salads, and b) make a main dish, too. The latter reason not because a) I don’t like Uncle Jeff’s salmon, but because b) I don’t like anyone’s salmon. I don’t like seafood (see “fraudulent eater.”). So, there we were, with Christmas Eve dinner looming one day away, forking over $300 at Guido’s market in Great Barrington, then running back to the house to spend the next 30 hours sweating it out in our kitchen. All of this to impress who? Ourselves? What is wrong with us? I blame Yotam. If you don’t know who he is, just google “Yotam.” After that, I don’t know whether to say “You’re welcome” or “I’m sorry.” His first …

Let the Sides Show Begin (or Going Cold Turkey)

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Thanksgiving is a very “Modern Family” holiday for us.  We spend it with Bertrand’s kids, as well as his ex-wife Danielle, her mom, Bertrand’s mom Eva and, often, her half sister and her two sons. For years, we’ve gathered up at Danielle’s house north of the city where she’s happily stood aside and let us take over her kitchen. When it comes to cooking, there’s something about walking the walk (and, perhaps, a little bit of talking the talk) that can completely fool others into believing that you really know what you’re doing. It could be an action as small as crushing a garlic clove with your fist or using French dish towels in lieu of potholders. Just maintain a serious, concentrated expression on your face while you’re bustling around the kitchen, and those who don’t like to cook can easily convince themselves that they are in the presence of, if not greatness, then at the very least the great promise that a memorable meal is on its way. It certainly fooled the kids, who both showed interest …