Most Wednesdays during the growing season I go to the Green City Market in Lincoln Park. It is, of course, where I shop for fruits and vegetables. But I also like to go to the free chef demonstrations that the market hosts. Because these take place on Wednesday mornings, the crowd tends to be mostly retirees, …
Main course
It’s been one of those weeks where I haven’t felt like making dinner. I’m pretty sure it happens to all of us. It’s been hot, which makes standing over a hot stove unappealing. And I’ve been tired and distracted by other projects. When dinner time rolls around, I’ve been feeling limp and listless, like this celery …
I’ve been on something of a pea kick. I’ve been zizzing them with mint and olive oil and slathering them on toast, I’ve been tossing them with spring onions and spring garlic and bits of smoked mozzarella and piling them on thinly stretched dough for a seasonal take on pizza, but I haven’t stopped there …
Last week was the first week for peas at the market. It’s a time I look forward to every year, and it never seems to come soon enough. There’s something special about really fresh peas. When I was growing up in Michigan, even though I wasn’t much of a vegetable eater as a kid, I …
It is officially spring. But official spring never feels like the spring that exists in my imagination. The mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful spring with green shoots and sun peaking through rain and warm breezes and new beginnings. Official spring in Chicago is something altogether different. It is one day in a series of false starts. It is …
Sometimes I forget that I like salad. I remember that I should eat salad, and then I react against the idea with the sulky resentment of a teenager. I go through phases when I dutifully buy bagged baby greens only to pull them out from the crisper drawer, strange and slimy, a few weeks later. In …