I love cooking, but I have to clean as I go. Otherwise, the prospect of doing a sink full of dishes later means I’ll enjoy the experience less. (These days my husband says he’ll do the dishes, but even just knowing they’re there sees an uptick in my anxiety.)

I bet my neighbors are glad I’’m out of my apartment in a month, because each debate leaves me hoarse. I don’t know why the host/moderator can’t turn off their fucking mics.

I’m certainly no sommelier, but I don’t think I’ve tried an orange wine I haven’t liked (though I’m sure they’re out there). Cheers! 

If you haven’t yet, try cooking them without oil/butter on both sides first, then add the fat (I’ve been using a cast iron for this) . Also, don’t season them with salt until toward the end. I’m not going to guarantee good results (because I’ve fucked it up a number of times), but I’m getting closer to “crispy.”

Hypocrisy? On the right?! Well now, ain’t that a first. 

It’s not that hard once you get a few staples under your belt! Say a quiche or galette— where you can mix and match fillings and cheeses, etc., to keep things interesting. Here’s my go-to baseline quiche recipe — though instead of the egg substitute I just use two egg whites to keep things light and fluffy: https://rec…

I’m vegetarian — but one that might offer guests prosciutto or something at a dinner party — and for me, I have always operated under the “if I can kill it, I can eat it” philosophy. (Next time I go to Mexico, I’m trying the crickets, damn it.) Anyway, this is all to say that I agree with you. 

I came here to refute the Buffalo cauliflower statement, so thank you.

Can we just agree that literally anything is better than “wet and gushy”/the “clean” version?

Before the pandemic, I loved cooking, I still love cooking, and I expect I will love cooking after this pandemic is under control. That said, at the beginning of this mess, every day was a new culinary adventure. I was, like, rolling out pasta by hand and trying all sorts of new things I didn’t have time to before.…

Whether as setup or a lapse in judgment (I mean, it happens — I’ve walked whole blocks before realizing I didn’t have my mask), I’m so mad it happened. Terrible optics. Foolish of her stylist, too. 

It’s true — my cousin’s idiot husband was all over posting about the hypocrisy yesterday, just a few weeks after he was whining about why masks are useless.

I have also started using rice-paper wraps and just using sandwich/salad ingredients to make spring roll-like rolls. And dressing = dip! 

It’s a lovely town. My husband’s family is in Westerly, which is close to Taylor Swift’s mansion in Watch Hill. I haven’t been to Providence in over a decade, but that’s one helluva fun town. (Then again, I like college towns.) 

Ignore the haters and naysayers — this sounds delicious, and I’m thrilled I can make them in my grill-free apartment.

When I was an 18- or 19-year-old college student brand-spanking-new to the big city, a big group of friends and I went there for a birthday party. The ridiculousness was the point. We dressed in costumes and snuck in booze. It was wonderful.

A few years ago, you could get group tickets to the Staten Island Yankees for, like, $20 a pop — and they came with two free drink (read: beer) tickets. It was glorious. 

I am also voting for Marnie — though this hot chocolate thing has me raising my eyebrow (though, I know how Chicago “spring” can be). 

Currently enduring the most wonderful flashbacks to the early/mid-aughts when I was 18–22 partying around the Ukrainian Village/Wicker Park dive-bar circuit. (RIP, Club Foot.) Brooklyn is great, and I love it here, but I would move back to Chicago in a heartbeat.

If I were this stupid, I think I’d rather say that I didn’t do my job than have to defend publishing this garbage. But it seems that somehow he did both...?