14 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
(04/21/10 5:10am)
It's perfect, absolutely perfect. Fabulous weather, blooming flowers, cheerful students and young families throwing frisbees all make for an absolutely perfect backdrop for a picnic on the Lawn. Although grabbing a slice of Christian's pizza or a bagel from Bodo's and heading to the Lawn happens frequently, it is far less common to pack a basket of elegant sandwiches, sweet treats, fresh fruit and sparkling wine and stretch out on a soft blanket, breathing in and savoring the fresh air. But think of just how fitting this would be.
(04/07/10 6:08am)
The change in seasons reminds me that we cannot completely sever the fundamental and deeply fixed ties we have with food, however processed, packaged or artificial it may be.
(03/24/10 6:13am)
I am in my element in the kitchen. The rhythmic, soothing chopping sound of a sharp knife slicing through an onion, the exceptional, inimitable smell of garlic and olive oil melding together on the stove top, the feel of pasta's warm steam hitting my face when drained in a colander - these sensations are familiar and comforting to any seasoned cook. In fact, these seemingly insignificant sensations are what make the cooking experience.
(03/03/10 6:49am)
Pickles and ice cream, goat cheese and Nutella on Wheat Thins, pretzels with crunchy Jif reduced-fat peanut butter - the cravings of a pregnant woman. Fortunately I have never been in such a position, but somehow we all know about the crazy, irrational, oh-so-urgent hormonal needs of expectant females. Except that it is not simply women about to give birth who demand special treatment.
(02/17/10 8:13am)
During the past few years, food preparation seems to have been reduced to mere numbers. The selling point no longer lies in the dish's unique blend of ingredients or impressive presentation but rather its ability to arise out of a small handful of ingredients in less time than it takes to place a telephone order for pizza delivery. Food Network's shows include "Ten Dollar Dinners," "Five Ingredient Fix" and "30 Minute Meals," while Cooking Light magazine devotes an entire section of each of its issues to "superfast" dinners. I wonder if we even pay attention to a meal's flavor anymore, or if now the only thing that actually matters is that our food is cheap, fast and convenient.
(02/03/10 6:58am)
My food cravings often involve bittersweet chocolate ganache, sweet and perfectly ripened juicy fruit or a plate of nutty whole wheat pasta cooked al dente that is topped with a spicy-sweet homemade marinara sauce. Perhaps some of my quirkier guilty pleasures include cereal with milk - consumed multiple times throughout the day - and smoked almonds, specifically the salt that gathers at the bottom of the jar. Sometimes, though, I crave a dish not for its flavor, nor for its pleasant texture or aroma, but for reasons far less tangible or explicable.
(01/21/10 3:09am)
I always have preferred instantaneous, black-and-white feedback; confirmation that my efforts have enjoyed absolute success or utter failure; noteworthy victory or crushing defeat. In middle and high school, grades proved far too important, and long-distance running perfectly satisfied my demands for a concrete, objective and immediate evaluation of my abilities: My race, performance and months of training could be economically summarized with a mere two or three numbers. Times, reduced to figures like six-fourteen or sub-twenty-two, induced either sleepless nights and feelings of inadequacy or relieved waves of elation. Inevitably, cooking - what began as a purely recreational, whimsical hobby, a release from more demanding tasks - morphed into yet another yardstick to determine tangibly my contributions or wasteful fumbles to society.
(12/02/09 5:35am)
Overcrowded freezers and pink candy canes. For me, their special once-a-year appearance each December announces the presence of Christmas. For some, Christmas can only arrive after the first great snow; for others, the combined scent of the sharp, piney evergreen tree and warm gingerbread cookies fresh from the oven ushers the dawn of the holiday season. Food always seems to play a central role in wintertime celebrations in some way or another, whether Kwanza festivities are not complete without a favorite aunt's signature dish or the new year fails to dawn until the champagne begins to flow.
(11/18/09 6:52am)
For most people, thinking about Thanksgiving conjures up images of traditional American fare beautifully arranged on fine china and memories of the unpleasant, overly full feelings following the extreme overindulgence of the day that only a nap seems to relieve. My family, however, never quite got on board with the whole turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy, green-bean casserole and pumpkin pie deal.
(11/04/09 7:01am)
I am a bad Southern girl. Any of my friends can attest to the paradox of my existence: I am from Alabama yet lack a thick accent; I live in Tuscaloosa, the home of the Crimson Tide and a stadium with a seating capacity of 92,138 but I really do not particularly enjoy watching football; I watch the Food Network constantly but absolutely must turn the television off when Paula Deen fills the screen. Perhaps more than anything else, however, I hate Southern food.
(10/21/09 5:23am)
As part of the research for my senior thesis, this summer I visited So All May Eat Caf
(09/23/09 6:04am)
Whether you cannot bring yourself to face another Bodo's sandwich or you have depleted your supply of Lean Cuisines and frozen pizzas, perhaps the time has come to spice up your eating habits - pardon the pun. In college, limited ingredients, time and budgets do pose significant challenges to preparing fresh, healthy and satisfying meals.
(09/09/09 5:34am)
A loose strand of hair flutters in front of my eyes as a cool, crisp breeze blows softly. I stride quickly downtown, having adopted an admittedly self-righteous attitude toward my simple, eco-friendly Saturday morning ritual. I wake up around 9 a.m., grab my Publix supermarket green bags and walk to the nearby farmer's market to enjoy fresh, local produce. Late summer is my favorite time to visit, when plump, juicy heirloom tomatoes of every color conceivable abound, children inevitably wander from their parents to purchase a homemade "spudnut" from the unique Charlottesville bakery and the sun has lessened its intensity so that it no longer induces a sticky, profuse sweat.\nAs I near the collection of white tents lined up along the South Street parking lot, I recall earlier visits, beginning to trace my time at U.Va. and wax nostalgic. The summer after my first year, a coworker introduced me to the city market and to a local jeweler from whom I bought a funky necklace. Several times during second year, I walked to the market with some friends, and we would eye the fancy cheeses and bright, sunny flowers while lamenting our meager college budgets. Every so often, we would indulge in fresh goat's cheese and divide the much-anticipated delicacy among us. And I think back to the time third year when I gathered with other members of my fellowship group to discover the Charlottesville which exists outside of the University. We caught the trolley to the Downtown Mall, charged with the task of preparing a meal using ingredients solely from the farmer's market. That night, after a satisfying but exhausting day of exploring local parks and community gardens, and experiencing the trials and tribulations of public transportation, we filled our plates with heaping servings of warm, hearty ratatouille (recipe follows) and colorful mixed greens. Finally, fourth year: I count the number of market days which remain until my graduation, all the while regretting those many fall Saturday mornings I have let pass by, simply because I was too lazy to leave my bed.\nBut now I am here. I approach the first stand and finger the smooth skin of an eggplant. I soon fill my bag with tender squash and zucchini, cherry heirloom tomatoes, arugula, blueberries and peaches. The market is my guilty pleasure, my time to escape the hectic, frenzied, demanding college environment and temporarily leave my endless to-do list behind. No longer must I hurry to the next appointment which claims my time. My entire pace slows, and my heartbeat, stride and speech relax to a calm, smooth rhythm. Here, I see real families, children roaming about, dogs and local residents who greet the vendors familiarly. For once, I am in a place that does not revolve around Thomas Jefferson, the University of Virginia, undergraduate students or me - and it feels good.\nAfter I finish shopping, I circle around the tents and take in once more the flowers, the handcrafted cutting boards and jewelry, the homemade sauces, pastries, and sandwiches, the ripe, colorful fruits and vegetables. I stand for several moments and breathe in the clean, sweet scent of the air. I close my eyes and lose myself in the market's sounds and smells. When I cannot justify lingering any longer, I turn to capture the soft murmur of peoples' speech and rustling shopping bags one final time.\nI head back toward Grounds. My heartbeat quickens.
(08/26/09 11:46pm)
The soft serve vanilla ice cream at the pool somehow never tasted as good toward the end of the summer. Perhaps it was because my brother Taylor and I knew that school would resume soon and there would be no more freezer ice pops at the beach, purple Gatorade at softball games or virgin frozen daiquiris by the lake. Instead, we merely could look forward to brown bag lunches with soggy turkey sandwiches and lukewarm yogurt. No, we never were ready for school to begin.\nIn an attempt to make the final week of summer vacation more pleasant, my mother would allow us each to choose a favorite restaurant, and we then knew the countdown had begun. As we savored our final days of freedom, we would set out to enjoy our "lasts": our last trip to the children's museum, our last night swim, our last dinner out on a weeknight.