A month ago, I wrote a piece called “It’s a go for grilling” which appeared in the Our Country Home section of the River Reporter. I was, ostensibly, reporting on how to go about … more

Suzanne, a friend at Las Mariposas, our hotel in Oaxaca, Mexico, suggested we take a trip to Etla one Wednesday. It was market day, and she knew I was a market devotee. There was further incentive to … more

I despise wagon wheel pasta and have no idea why children are drawn to it. Ziti, as opposed to penne, isn’t for me, either—no ridges to hold the sauce. And traditional elbow macaroni … more

On many occasions over the past three months in Oaxaca, Mexico, I thought of what I might write for The River Reporter when I returned home at the end of March. Would it be about the one-day cooking … more

I was trying to put together an hor d’oeuvres menu for a couple my sister, Janet, and I had invited over, when I received an email that one of the two was lactose intolerant and could eat not a … more

I admit I’m drawn to kitchen gadgets. I don’t mean machines like pasta makers, food processors, bread bakers, crock pots and the like. I’m talking about the strange little gizmos … more

When I was a teenager, I always enjoyed being invited to my best friend’s home for dinner. Kate’s mom was an innovative cook, and it was in her dining room, in 1979, that I first had … more

Is your body all achy? Do you feel fatigued to the point where simply standing up feels like a chore? And when you are upright, is your head pounding mercilessly? Are you feverish and find yourself … more

The holidays are a time of rituals. Relatives who live far apart travel to be with family, gifts are given, hours are spent planning and preparing special food, and toasts and blessings are made … more

Usually pajama parties take place at night with young girls staying up late, giggling, whispering, discussing boys and eating junk food. When I discovered that the temperature on Thanksgiving Day was … more

I was 22 years old, living in a one room studio apartment in Greenwich Village, and unemployed. My kitchen was comprised of miniature versions of appliances that fit snugly against a small wall. The fridge, which was under the counter, had a solid metal door, leaving precious little room for necessities like condiments, milk and cheese. It had a tiny space for two ice cube trays; that was my freezer.  more

Many years ago, my sister, Janet, and I were amazed when in Italy to see businessmen at a nearby table luxuriating over an abundance of courses and many bottles of wine during a well over two-hour … more

At five years of age, I walked into my kindergarten class and made my way directly to a corner of the room where a child-sized kitchen stood. The miniature stove, sink and refrigerator were made of … more