Every morning, I light the burners, trim the vegetables, and lumber toward some ineffable sense of progress. Hours later, I’m scrubbing the counters, scouring the burnt edges of the stove with a steel wool pad, waiting for insight. All I ever seem to get is a trail of breadcrumbs, a tiny string of clues about…… Continue reading Breadcrumbs

Tomatoes, again : Pan con tomato

When I was a kid, my mother had a couple clusters of garden space situated on the periphery of our giant backyard. Our backyard was a rectangle shape and had two small hills of man-made landscaping on either side. The fence line buttressed the bike path and, behind that, the Metra, a commuter train that…… Continue reading Tomatoes, again : Pan con tomato

Remembering Tuscany : Schiacciata all’uva

When I think of Tuscany, I think of the light. It illuminated dark corners of uneven cobblestones with a preternatural glow. Staring through my bedroom window as it cast out on the Arno River, I registered hundreds of variations of yellow, orange and gold. Especially at sunrise and sunset, the light seemed to pulse, as…… Continue reading Remembering Tuscany : Schiacciata all’uva