
I’m a sucker for purple produce.
Somehow, over the span of my 15+ years calling north Jersey my home, I never watched The Sopranos.
Today is my birthday, and for years, that meant I got to eat ribs and birthday cake.
I love throwing parties. If I had a truly disposable income and an untiring pool of friends, I’d throw a party a month.
I bought a pasta maker with a gift certificate from last Christmas. Almost a year later, I’m finally using it. So. Typical.
Well, Memorial Day Weekend has come and gone and I’m so happy it’s the start of another summer season.
The weather in suburban New Jersey today is ideal for the lazy vacation day I’m taking. It’s one of my favorite kinds of days: a grey and drizzly day in December during which I feel perfectly content to order Christmas presents from bed while snuggling with one of my loving pets. What it is, is the perfect afternoon for a bowl of soup. But all of my soup is in Brooklyn, frozen and waiting for me to have the forethought to thaw it before I want it. Where did I learn how to do that? Well, from my mother, who also has several soup varieties sitting downstairs in her freezer, perfectly frozen and hard as a rock.