Creamy mashed cauliflower (via Sprout & Pea, eatallthethings)
Spoiler alert: it gets its creaminess from Greek yogurt and its yumminess from Parmigiano.
(Source: juliajane)
Elephant pouf! (Now if I could just say poof! and an elephant would appear.)
At CityZen, chefs cook up sweet moves (via washingtonpoststyle)
What matters in a pro kitchen: instant reaction, mindless repetition and crisp, efficient maneuvers. Restaurants run on the French “kitchen brigade” system, modeled after a military hierarchy more than a century ago. There’s the chef, a couple of lieutenants (the sous-chefs), and a platoon of line cooks —the kitchen infantry — manning stations assigned by menu category: appetizers, fish, meat and so on.
It has to be this way. The restaurant kitchen is a highly physical place, and if the saucier lunging toward the stove collides with the meat cook slinging plated quail toward the waiters, there will be a meltdown. Chefs, like generals, know they have two choices: discipline or chaos.
The accompanying timelapse of chefs’ moves has me so excited for Next el bulli … next week! (Comin at ya Chicago.)
So simple and pretty. Would look great with a tan.
Crispy Tuscan kale on the grill
I’m always down to throw something new on the grill.
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Speaking of our friend Jonathan — who is always everywhere that cool things are going down — he’s opening a shuffleboard club called The Royal Palms in Gowanus next year. Told ya he’s tight with the cool.
The Royal Palms is the world’s first shuffleboard night club. Sipping a frothy Key Lime Fizz, swaying to the back porch sounds from the house band; our visitor grabs his vintage shuffleboard biscuits and tangs and is instantly transported to the sexy, festive, sun-drenched world of 1970’s Palm Beach.Housed in a 1919 Printing Press in the burgeoning Gowanus neighborhood of Brooklyn, The Royal Palms will boast 18 shuffleboard courts (12 full-size, regulation shuffleboard courts downstairs and another 6 courts in the proposed “Lido Deck” outdoor space upstairs) spread over 32,000 square feet of citrus drenched indoor and outdoor space. Even at full capacity it will offer visitors a leisurely year-round retreat rarely found in the dark, cramped venues of New York City.
(Photo of the Mirror Lake Shuffleboard Club in Florida.)
A scene from the international debut of “The Lion Tamer” last Saturday night. Now this — this was fun. It was a party in Greenpoint, the kind of party that if I’m being honest I would normally skip (it’s all the way in Greenpoint, we’ll be drinking all day at the Derby party, but what if no one talks to me?!) but the invitation came from a long-lost friend, a friend of my ex-boyfriend’s — the one who died in February — and damned if an experience like that doesn’t bring you together, if even over Facebook. On Saturday morning he told me that one of my ex’s best friends would also be there, visiting from Dublin, and I was thrilled but nervous. There is so much that simply cannot be said at a three-story blow-out party, and maybe that’s for the best, but it doesn’t mean you’re not carrying it with you.
I needn’t have been nervous, of course. I had my faithful date, I had a new striped skirt. (I had a full bottle of El Tesoro Platinum.) When we walked in, the party was at full swing — hundreds of people in the beautiful backyard and every floor of the three-story apartment building.
When I saw his friend from Dublin we just hugged, hard, for a minute.
Then he had to go practice for the show — this show on the second floor that everyone was talking about, oh my god are you going to the show? — admitting with an impish grin that he hadn’t seen the script yet (and oh, it starts in ten minutes).
And what a script it was! The fellow in the putty-colored suit wrote it. Very clever. About a lion who leaves her lion tamer, feeling like he was too controlling (you know how they are), and then the tamer discovers that Park Slope yuppies are hungry for a little tamin’ and he becomes a sort of S&M self help guru and there was a groovy little ’70s dance routine and hey isn’t that our friend Jonathan in the middle? (of course he was there, he’s always everywhere that cool things are going down) and then, in song (obviously), the lion tamer realizes that she loved the tamer not the taming so she goes back to him with open paws, three cheers, take a bow, and please excuse me if I’ve left out any important plot points (remember that full bottle of El Tesoro? yeah not so full anymore).
After the final bow, it was up to the third floor for the dance party. The DJ didn’t play enough Beastie Boys for our taste but the tequila was smooth and I felt good. Sad — dancing will always remind me of Cian — but good.
We’re all Vice Presidents in the Joe Biden Fan Club, right POTUS?
(Source: samospeaks, via growing-up-indie)