Friendship is a strange animal. It only thrives in voluntary enjoyment of each other’s company, in the pleasure of nonobligatory connection. I repeat: You owe me nothing.
Everything that has ever happened to me is still all with me.
It happened every single day in Brooklyn: awaken to fresh glory, fall asleep to blight and ruin.
Now that I’m 50 and respectably settled in New England and markedly happier and more contented than I was in my youth, I modestly hope there’s time to realize some of my youthful goals before I croak, but I’ll take what I can get.
Country ham is baked whole, usually with a glaze, sometimes studded with cloves, and served as the centerpiece of Christmas and Easter feasts.
David Levi is a teacher as well as a chef, and, like most teachers, he loves to talk.
I procrastinate all morning. That’s when I get my office work done and answer e-mails and see what’s on the Internet and do laundry.
There’s a certain time of day after sunset when people naturally seem to feel the urge to gather by a fire or a stove or a hibachi or another common source of heat and food, and hunker down together to eat and drink. Call it the blue hour.
Reminded of what a diet really is, I began eating more slowly, being more conscious of when I was full. I started to enjoy my buckwheat bread with goat cheese and pureed butternut-squash soup as a response to real hunger.
After my experiences with the 5:2 diet, I wasn’t interested in a short-term fix that would fail later. I wanted a way of eating that made me lose weight without feeling deprived.
Famously cancer fighting, laden with vitamins, minerals, soluble fiber, and phytonutrients, broccoli and its relatives are among the healthiest ingredients of the human diet.
In the winter of 2012, as my fiftieth birthday approached, I began to write what turned into my autobiography, a look at my own life through the lens of food.
It gives me immense pleasure to be trustworthy, faithful, and true – to have the kind of romantic bond that inspires this.