I’m a klutz. If it’s possible to run into, trip over or stumble on something, there’s a good chance I’ll do it.
Take stairs for example. Stairs are a relatively innocent thing. You face one direction and they go up. You face the opposite direction and they go down. In such modern times as these are, they typically go up and down at the same rate.
Unfortunately, I’m sure the bottom step at my house is just a ¼-inch longer than it should be. I haven’t measured it yet, but it’s the only explanation for catching my toe, rolling over my ankle and landing face first in a pile by the front door.
At least, that’s the explanation I keep telling myself every time I re-wrap my black and yellow ankle. Continue reading
Since I last shared a recipe, a lot has happened. A few Saturday Steals made it on the blog. I wrote several dozen posts for clients, flew to Saint Louis to see my sister and her family, and read Molly Wizenberg’s new book, Delancey. But, these aren’t the reasons for my absence. Continue reading
In comparison to the tapestry-laden walls you may expect of a Middle Eastern restaurant, Mamnoon’s urban chic interior might seem cold. But, there’s something decidedly comforting about their open kitchen. It greets you at the front door in the way your grandmother would. Or, in the way your grandmother would if she was the kind who baked fresh bread and smelled of toasted flour.
The dinning room is flanked by another open kitchen, effectively giving the appearance that you’re being graciously welcomed into someone’s home. In many ways that’s exactly what’s happening. Continue reading