Friends, grab a stash of cookies and pull up a chair, because we have to talk. I’m a little funny about heavy cream. This probably makes me a total killjoy, but I can’t help it. My mother is this way too, so maybe I get it from her. Cream soups and sauces upset her stomach, and by some sort of sad, unlucky inheritance, the same goes for mine. By way of illustration, take the tragic case of the velouté de potimarron – a velvety pumpkin soup – that I once ordered at a bistro in Paris. As soon as it arrived at the table, I knew I was doomed: it coated the spoon like clotted cream, and its color tended…

I have long entertained a little fantasy about weekends: namely, that they’re fun and restful. Most of the time, in reality, I fill them with way too much stuff. This stuff could be fun and restful in theory, but when you cram it all into 48 or so hours – leaving room for sleep, of course, and for finally cleaning the bathroom – it doesn’t look much like a fantasy. Sometimes it’s even kind of stressful, a word that should never, ever be associated with Saturday or Sunday. But this past weekend, blessed be, was like Christmas come early. We had the sort of weekend I wait all week for, sans Clorox and Windex and other commitments and duties. We…

Dear readers: I know that you have come here today expecting some cookie talk, but I hope you won’t mind if I mix things up a little, just for a minute. The cause is a very good one, I promise. Today is the opening day of the annual Menu for Hope charity raffle, the brainchild of lovely and benevolent food blogger Pim. Last year, the raffle raised an impressive $17,000 for UNICEF. This year, we aim to raise even more, with all proceeds going to the United Nations World Food Programme. For those of us who take great pleasure in food and cooking, this is a small, fitting way to help those less fortunate. For a mere ten dollars a…

The sun set at 4:18 this afternoon. That means that the street lamps outside my office window shuddered ominously to life at ten minutes after three, people. Six o’clock this evening was indistinguishable from midnight. I don’t know how it is where you are, but around here it’s very, very dark. When Brandon moved to Seattle last June, he was more than a little apprehensive of all this, and with good reason. No sane person moves to “The Rainy City” – or, more fittingly, “The Rainy and Really, Really Dark City” – without some reservations. I tried to soothe him with the usual consolations – it doesn’t really rain so much as sort of mist, and I mean, hey, have…