Bookshelf
From the Blog:
And waited while his billy boiled
I’m always disappointed by novels in which the characters don’t eat. Fiction without food is like fiction without dialogue. In fact, I admit that I tend to suspect a novelist of pretentiousness if there’s no food in his or her book – who doesn’t avidly want to know...
Freight train, freight train, going so fast
Last night, we had nothing in particular in the house for dinner, so I threw together a "cupboard supper" out of roots and tubers and frozen things. It was, I'm not exaggerating, a sublime meal. Cupboard suppers always are, for some reason. We ate every scrap and...
The boar’s head in hand
It's that dark, hibernating time of year. We recently moved to a small northeastern seaside city where we know almost no one. We're writers, but food is our greatest passion. Brendan, a native New Englander by way of Italy and California, is an expert cook who eats...