Dinner (Together)

Q: In your memoir The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen, you talk about the importance of having dinner as a family, having everyone together to discuss the issues of the day. Jacques Pépin: For me, the kitchen is the center of the house. When a kid comes back from school, you sit down in […]

via Dinner (Together) — Live & Learn

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Rice


Rice is life. The original “ancient grain,” rice in some form has been around since the beginning of recorded history, flourishing in every cuisine across the globe, the very foundation of civilization itself. The word for “rice” in Japanese is the same as the word for “meal,” which succinctly demonstrates just how essential this basic cereal has been for many millennia of cooks and eaters. Boasting well over 40,000 different, wholly unique varieties, one could easily eat rice every single day for their entire lives and never grow bored. Today, I’m talking about basmati, but not just any basmati; Texmati, the first of its kind to be grown in the US.

In collaboration with RiceSelect, I’ve plunged head-first into these tender, subtly nutty grains, relishing their versatility in both sweet and savory applications. Remaining firm and chewy after cooking, it’s particularly well-suited for stir-fries, soups, fried rice, pilafs…

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Meditação acerca dos infernos pessoais

Caminhante Aprendiz

Todos têm o direito de construir o próprio inferno. É o livre arbítrio.

Há três tipos de edificações infernais, como na história dos “Três Porquinhos”.

No primeiro o inferno não é bem edificado e rui facilmente, a pessoa pode ser feliz sem problema algum no momento que quiser.

No segundo há um pouco de resistência, talvez por alguma situação ou fato que prende a pessoa, mas ainda há jeito. Derruba-se alguns muros, paredes e, ufa, eis o paraíso.
No terceiro não há jeito. Algumas pessoas constroem infernos com tanto esmero, tão bem edificados, que se tornam fortalezas, não é qualquer sopro que os faz ruir.

A pessoa se fecha em seu castelo infernal e torna-se vítima, acusando os outros por suas escolhas. Preso na sua torre de infelicidade.

Pessoalmente, prefiro as casas de varas.

Vânia Mescua

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By katagene

strip me bare

and I’ll pretend I didn’t know where we were headed
this idiosyncrasy we tangled
somewhere between the frames of paper doors

if I could take from you
I’d steal you all
[not just so I could say this]
nurture all the rewrote skin
until it’s feign and flutter
: we know I have no soot

I reside only in moments
the fleeting shot where the world dyslexes
numbs my sense of motion
the flurry grounded

strung together by your words
they hold me close

to fingertips

and I wonder whether you noticed
I was gone

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