GINA This is my absolute favorite cake. Tanya has been baking it for me since I was a little girl—which I was yesterday. . . . I can remember when my sister Kim made it for her boyfriend, Tony, who is now her husband. I watched her in that kitchen, baking with such love and care. I begged for a small piece and she said, “No, it’s Tony’s birthday.” So I sat on that stool and swung my feet and waited and waited. It got pretty dark, and Kim was no longer smiling—she’d gotten that evil look on her face that we all have had at one time or another. The wait went on, and then . . . ding-dong. He’d finally arrived, and Kim was all fired up to give him a piece of her mind for being so late. After some loud, angry whispering between Kim and Tony at the front door, Kim took my beautiful, coveted cake, went straight out the door, and threw it into the garbage can outside! I screamed and stood by that can in shock, but Tanya made me come in, and baked me another one just to shut me up. (Hence, you can see where my “spoiledness” comes from, and the reason Tanya knows it’s my favorite.) Now we all love this cake. I am a true chocolate lover, and adding more chocolate on top—really, what more can you say? But you know Pat—he likes to reach into the freezer and throw a big scoop of vanilla on top of his slice.
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
Among the top tier of sauces is Indonesian satay sauce, because it is the embodiment of joy and life. In fact, this sauce is also trustworthy and highly respectful of whatever it comes into contact with—perhaps it is, in fact, the perfect friend?
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
I should address the awkward truth that I don’t use butter here but cream instead. You could, if you’re a stickler for tradition (and not a heretic like me), add a big slab of butter to the finished curry.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.
Put these out at a gathering, and we guarantee you’ll be hearing rave reviews for a long time.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.