How exactly does one go about burning a spoon? Well, the easiest way is to leave it resting nonchalantly on the edge of a pot that’s been simmering away for some length of time and then get distracted by your dog, especially after your girlfriend has repeatedly told you not to. Enter…

Living with these two, burnt spoons are the least of my problems. I’ve got melted spatulas, chipped platters, and an overworked cast iron pan that needs more love than I can give. For some reason, I’m not allowed to have a pitcher or anything that resembles one – they’ve all been mercilessly shattered, toppled from breathtaking heights at inconvenient times. My garbage disposal has acquired a voracious appetite for my favorite ceramic measuring spoons and devours them at a steady pace of about one per month. My stand mixer bowl has been warped in such a manner that using the hook attachment will serve to fling it off the base and across the room at breakneck speed unless I use my entire body as counter-leverage to hold it in place (which, of course, I do). I’ve lost a meat mallet and an ice cream scoop to a dishwasher that fails to completely wash anything else and, for reasons that are still unclear, we don’t own a blender. Thus, everything that needs blending or pureeing of any kind must be done in 5-8 batches in a Magic Bullet that is long past it’s prime. But I digress…

For me, it’s usually, almost always worth it. There is not now and there never has been enough time for me to make any of the recipes on this site. Frankly, most of the magic happens from 9:00 PM - 12:00 AM after a full day’s work on borrowed time with large glass of red wine in hand. I know that if I wait for a good time or a convenient time to come along, it will never present itself; a reality I refuse to accept. I love food with integrity and I love feeding people…the right people.

This blog is for me – it’s for Gary and Clyde. It’s for all the beautiful people who burn our spoons.