A long oak table in a farmhouse dining room, laid with a full spread of food and lit from a window

Food and Travel

Everything we have learned to cook, written down properly so it does not get lost. The places we ate it are coming. Cook from it, argue with it, tell us when something is wrong.

Sunday, one o’clock.

Food is my love language.

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The picks change with the weather where you are. Cold and raining gets you something slow; hot and clear gets you something you can put together without turning the oven on.