For the Holy See, I had just one thought: Communion wafers.
I mean, when one thinks of Catholic cuisine, that’s about it, right? Glutinous metaphoric bits of bread for parishioners.
But that’s less of a blog post, and more of an April Fool’s Joke.
For the Holy See, I had just one thought: Communion wafers.
I mean, when one thinks of Catholic cuisine, that’s about it, right? Glutinous metaphoric bits of bread for parishioners.
But that’s less of a blog post, and more of an April Fool’s Joke.
So I hope you’re wondering why on earth I’m writing a blog about food from Cabo Verde.
After all, B comes before M in the alphabet, and I did Cambodia in the first round – so what gives?
There’s something about the brassica family that generally doesn’t agree with me.
Maybe it’s the sulfury notes of broccoli or Brussels sprouts. Or perhaps it’s the bitter flavor of underprepared kale that burns me. Maybe it’s just the general consistency of the brassicas that sends me running and screaming.Whatever you call it, don’t call me late to eat brassicas – because there is no late on “never.”
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One of the most important culinary lessons I’ve learned came from my good friend Lindsey in New Jersey. A few years back, Linz was visiting the Pacific Northwest for a few days and taught me all about cooking the humble bean.