I've been writing a series of post on BlogHer about Cooking with Fresh Herbs, which has included cilantro, tarragon, parsley, mint, lovage, basil, and chives so far. Today we're talking about Greek Oregano, which most cooks probably think of as the distinctive flavor in pizza sauce, and the category of herbs called oregano.

The hassle of obtaining a reservation of Momofuku Ko has quickly become the stuff of legend—and that’s for a restaurant barely over a month old. After finally wrestling this bear to the ground, I can finally answer the question: Is it worth it?  read more »

Tyler Wiard (pronounced wired, not weird), the executive chef of Elways Steakhouse in Denver, won this years Taste of Elegance for his cumin roasted pork loin and braised shoulder with green chile, posole cake, smooth avocado and red chile. Thats a very Coloradan dish, featuring the green and red chile of New Mexican cuisine, which we Coloradans have adopted. Its a tough event. Chefs compete regionally, and then the winners all meet for the nationals. This year 22 chefs were supposed to compete, but only 21 did as Patrick Ponsaty, the local winner from Bernardo in San Diego, had to back out suddenly.  read more »

Cabbage (Brassica oleracea var. capitata)

Summer is over. Cooler weather is here. And it's time to turn our focus towards the southern fall vegetables. This week the spotlight shines on cabbage.

Cabbage is available most commonly in green and purple varieties. This Brassica oleracea cabbage is a round head of leaves wrapped tightly around a central core. Other cabbages, such as Napa (Brassica campestris) or Chinese (Brassica rapa) are completely different species and not to be confused with the common type discussed here.

Origin and History of Cabbage

Cabbage is native to the Mediterranean region and has been cultivated since at least 1500 B.C. The more modern, large diameter, headed varieties were bred into use by at least 200 B.C. The ancient Greeks and Romans valued cabbage for its medicinal and health properties -- it can be used to treat inflammation and has recently been shown to have powerful anti-cancer effects. Due to its high vitamin C content, Captain Cook was able to use cabbage to fend off scurvy in his crew. Curiously, in medieval times, cabbage was denigrated as food fit only for peasants.  read more »

We ask many things of our food. We ask that our food is clearly identifiable (anything strange and murky immediately turns us off); we ask that our food is reasonably healthy--even if that means laying a redemptive tomato on a greasy, heart-crushing 5-pound burger. We ask that our food is prepared in a clean kitchen, we ask that our food is served hot, or at least reasonably warm. We ask that our food is tasty, that it is filling, that it has good value ($20 for two scallops does not a happy customer make). Mostly, we ask that our food fills that very primal need for gastronomical satisfaction. What we don't often ask is for our food to have a story. What did you have for lunch today? Where did you get it? Ok, you got it from the sandwich shop, or you made it yourself, but what went in it? And where did that come from? What's its story?  read more »

Its very hard, let me tell you, to know where to begin. I guess it would be smart to start with Brussels, since thats where we went first, but then, you know, theres also Paris. Sometimes when I write about Paris, I worry that I sound like a broken record. You know - saying the same thing over and over, the same thing I always say, the same thing everyone always says about that lovely, gray city. Sometimes I just want to sit quietly, just me and my thoughts, and not say a word. But Ive never been much good at that, as you might guess. And though my feelings for Paris change a little every time I go back - they get more nuanced, I guess you could say, and a little harder to explain - its always 100% love. Its hard to keep quiet about that. For the most part, when Ive been in Paris, Ive been alone. As a college student there, I lived with a host family, but I spent most of my hours on my own, wandering the narrow streets, poking into bakeries and reading books in the park. Then, the year after college, when I worked in a French public high school, I lived in a tiny studio apartment with only a garden gnome for company. (My landlord had left him on the small terrace outside my window; his name, I was told, was Vincent.) Being in Paris with Brandon, a partner in crime, someone to chat with on street corners and slump against on the subway late at night, made it feel like a different city. Of course, Id been in Paris with my mother, and with my dad too, but with Brandon, it was somehow entirely new. It felt strange at first, and awkward, like wearing a dress thats a size too small. But then I started to like it. And then I liked it even more. For his part, Brandon had lived in Paris too, with a girlfriend - My Predecessor, as I like to call her - for several months a few years ago. Like any foreigner who tries to make a home there, he had his share of pleasures and frustrations in the city, and he was nervous, in a way, about going back. That, in turn, made me nervous in all sorts of ways. But somewhere between the baguettes and radishes and bottles of wine, the crappy French TV shows I forced him to watch, the buttery sole meunire at Bistro Paul Bert and the buckwheat beer at Breizh Caf , the flea market at Porte de Vanves and the falafel in the park, the musty apartment we rented and the reddish glow of the street lamp outside, we made it new. We ate, and we talked, and we walked. Thats all we ever really want to do, anyway. Thats what vacations are for. So we did it again the next day, and the day after that.  read more »