Whenever I see egg salad on the menu, I can’t help but think of the scene from Pee-Wee Herman, where Winnie tells Pee-Wee that she has made him “his favorite.” The two are seated on a picnic blanket, cooing at one another. But with each guess — fried chicken!, hamburgers, cheese sandwich, turkey a la king, vegetarian plate, shepherd’s pie — Winnie becomes increasingly upset, just as Pee-Wee becomes increasingly confused, until he confesses that he can’t think of anything else. At which point, Winnie pulls a carefully wrapped egg salad sandwich from the picnic basket.
Pee-Wee takes the obligatory bite, chews it around, pronounces it “egg salad-y,” and then tosses it, Frisbee-style towards some playground equipment.
After work and a trip to the gym, it may be 8:00 by the time I get home. And despite a liberal, daytime-snacking policy, I’m hungry for dinner by that time.
Even though I enjoy cooking, a Wednesday evening — with only a few hours left before bedtime beckons — is not the best time to launch into an hour-long culinary experience. Quick, easy, and delicious are the weekday watchwords.
Sloppy Joe fits the bill. This meal Continue reading
Choosing a recipe can sometimes feel like putting together a baseball team. It is the home chef as general manager.
In each field, the objective is the same — to please the folks at home by offering them a winning dish while remaining within the allotted budget. The objective is straightforward. As is the theory behind it: acquire the best ingredients, assemble, and serve warm.
But this process is never as straight forward as it seems. Expensive ingredients, like high-priced free agents, may Continue reading
Chicken pox is a highly contagious virus. Chicken saladitis, while not as lethal or infectious, is no less noxious, inserting itself into lunch menus on an almost daily basis.
During the week, I bring my lunch to work. And making a week’s worth of chicken salad is almost always Continue reading
If you’ve ever been in a Parisian café, you’ve seen Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle at work. In this environment, waiters move about like errant electrons, brushing past you with little care for their momentum, their movements, or their duties. To a stationary observer, it is impossible to know both the location of a server and the speed at which he is ignoring you.
The croque-monsieur made its debut in 1910, in a café on the Boulevard des Capucines. The origins of the name are unknown, but I suspect the etymology is quintessentially French. An exasperated Frenchman Continue reading