When it comes to potatoes, repetition is key.
For the best french fries, it’s essential to double-fry them. It should be no surprise then, that the best baked potatoes, should be twice baked.
On Superbowl Sunday, I invited my friends over to watch the Saints defeat the Colts. I told them to bring their wives and girlfriends, but also to bring their appetites. Given my New Orleans roots, I knew …
Coffeecake may be a bit of a misnomer, but I’m not complaining. Coffeecake is one of the ultimate comfort desserts or snacks, a perfect combination of cinnamon and moist cake to accompany a hot coffee or chai tea latte (in my case) , on a cold wintry morning. Indeed, this coffeecake comes together so quickly and effortlessly, it might be ready in the time it takes…
Despite its relative utility, chemistry never held much sway. Instead of chemical compounds and balanced equations, I preferred studying the subjunctive tense for être and avoir, or drawing the shape of parabolic curves, or studying the machinations of medieval European princes. Even looking at plant cells seemed more interesting than mixing chemicals.
Admittedly, some of my classmates saw things differently. Walk into a French, Algebra, or History classroom, and the setting is sedate and similar: rows of desks, facing a blackboard. Walk into a chemistry classroom, and the mood is one of potential and excitement: Bunsen burners, microscopes, lab coats, test tubes, fire extinguishers, and an emergency chemical-bath. As one of the Chemistry teachers liked to boast, “You can’t die in English class.”
And yet, all I could muster up was a stifled yawn. Chemistry …
Memories are a funny thing. I look back at certain events or times, and wonder what it was that made a certain scene memorable, that gave it such staying power.
With childhood memories, the question evokes a stronger response – owing, perhaps, to the idea that a memory resonates with more emotion the more distant it seems. There’s something inspiring and captivating about looking back in your subconscious and finding a picture of yourself at a younger, more exciting age.
There I am, 20 years old, turning a corner outside of a Paris cafe, and bumping into the Prime Minister. There I am, 18 years old, sweating under the bright lights of my high-school…
This weekend, Caitlin and I went apple picking in nearby Belleville, Illinois. Armed with our plastic bags, we each set off to collect the perfect apples. Careful not to overload on the apples, we each filled our respective bag to the half-way point. Yet, when we made it to the scale, we had collectively picked over sixteen pounds of Red and Golden Deliciousness.
Faced with the prospect of an overflowing fruit drawer, …