April is the cruellest month, wrote T.S. Elliot. It’s cruel, he implies, because it disturbs. But, in April, something starts to happen. Here is the end of this part of the poem.
Mom never made a bad dish. If it wasn’t good, it never got to the table.
That a small number of Jews, who also observe Passover, claim to like the taste of matzoh could be seen as a kind of culinary Stockholm Syndrome.”
At the market there are no more live chicken men. Well, of course, the men and women at the market are alive, but real poultry purveyors are as rare as the milkman in a horse-drawn wagon.
No one is going to buy our house. The smells are too complex.
While there are many organized activity centers, some seniors prefer belonging to less formal social groups. Norm, 93 years young, was my late father’s buddy. He recently wrote to me about the PLAY DO group he belongs to: “People Living Alone And Yearning to Dine Out.” Every three weeks about […]
I write about food because I could never figure out how to write about politics. Journalists are supposed to be able to write about politics, to speak truth to power, to drill down and decipher the talking points, to explain which stakeholder can separate the wheat from the chaff inside […]
A simple question: why does Montreal have so many places—restaurants and restaurant chains—featuring barbecued chicken? We have St. Hubert BBQ, Chalet BBQ, Côte St Luc BBQ, dozens of Portuguese chicken rotisseries. Scores, and a score of others. Chicken is an easy dish to make at home and there are hundreds […]
Let’s get one thing straight right off the bat: You will get dirty. Your hands will be sticky. There will be barbecue sauce under your fingernails and at the corners of your mouth. I can’t speak to the state of your jeans. Welcome to the Moonshine BBQ. The menu at […]