October 2011

When my son was two he became obsessed with all things Hallowe'en: pumpkins (which he called “punkins”), bats and witches. We figured he would love to go trick-or-treating.

What we didn’t realize was that he wouldn’t want to wear the lion costume we had for him.To get him dressed, my husband started with the lion pants. There were little paws to go over his shoes. That started things off badly. Then came the coat – the big, puffy coat, with a tail and a hood with a mane around his face. As my husband was doing it up from the bottom, my son was undoing it from the top, screeching at the top of his lungs.

Somehow my tiny studio apartment seems to be a resting place for friends. They always wake up to the smell of coffee and eggs…mostly because of the proximity of the stove to the couch. I like frittatas with pear, caramelized onions and brie, omelettes with sautéed mushrooms and kale, scrambles with zucchini, spinach, feta and fresh basil, but I always come back to simple poached eggs. I can’t explain the joy I feel when I poke my fork into a soft poached egg and the bright orangey yolk cascades out over my tower of vegetables. It is almost more than I can take. + MORE