Who remembers that game: two images, seemingly identical, side by side? It might as well be the same image reprinted in succession, until you notice that the clocks on each are telling different times, or that there are stripes on one cat but dots on the other. I think it’s called Spot the Difference?
Well, today I present you with a semantic version of that very game. The two contenders, or “images,” in question are two words, two adjectives, that at first glance seem identical, their usages interchangeable: crispy and crunchy.
I have very little self-control at a good farmers market.
You know that scene in, like, every episode of MasterChef where the contestants sprint into a comically oversized cold pantry, stuffed to the gills with 80 square feet of eggplants, more tomato varieties than you knew existed, and a crate of limes heftier than a six-year-old? The one that looks like this?
For me, food and sleep are inextricably linked. The content of most of my dreams is culinary in nature: a lemon custard lake across which I amble in a gondola, a theater performance where audience members congratulate me with bouquets of almond croissants, a chase sequence down a hallway lined with whole wheat crackers. If any psychoanalysts are reading this, please, my dreams are ripe for a Freudian analysis. You know where to find me.
But seriously, is there actually something bigger at play between what we eat and how we sleep? My strange midnight fantasies aside, I wondered if our diets could have some effect on the quality, quantity and consistency of our slumbers. My hunch is that they do. I mean, the way and what we eat have such bearing on so many facets of our waking hours; why shouldn’t they also affect our less conscious ones?
I worry a lot. I want everyone to have success with my recipes, and I worry that new and occasional bakers may not understand recipe writing “code”—that the order of words and presence of commas, especially in the ingredient list, has a precise meaning which can affect your success with the recipe. This is especially (I say critically) important if you measure ingredients by volume—with measuring cups—instead of by weight. The good news is that the code is logical and easy to learn.
Let’s start by considering a cookie recipe that calls for almonds:
Full disclosure: I’m not usually a ham sandwich person.
Don't get me wrong, I love sandwiches; I even moved to Mallorca to open my own sandwich shop. But aside from an occasional jamón serrano, you’d never find me jonesin’ for a ham sandwich—that is, until I tried a triangulo sandwich from Bar El Eme in Bilbao. My sandwich world was forever changed. With just five ingredients—ham, lettuce, mayonnaise, spicy sauce and white bread—you have to wonder: How could something so simple be so good?
We've partnered with Bosch, makers of high quality home appliances like the Benchmark side-opening wall oven, to share recipes, tips, and videos that highlight the little details that make a dish truly delicious.
My friend JJ Goode is a fellow cookbook writer and also one of the funniest people I know. He has collaborated with some of the greatest folks and I particularly love the books that JJ has worked on with Roberto Santibañez (Truly Mexican and Tacos, Tortas, and Tamales). Not long after JJ and Katie, his very smart and awesome wife, welcomed their son, Remy, into the world, Grace and I stopped by their place for a visit.
I'm at the point in my life where, 95 percent of the time, if I shop for an outfit or buy an airplane ticket, it's for a wedding. In May, I went to a wedding in San Antonio without an outfit, due to a poorly-timed realization that none of my old formalwear fit me properly. I interpreted that as the physical manifestation of a deeper anxiety I'd been feeling: that I no longer fit in properly with my college friends.
In the five years since we'd graduated college, we'd all moved to different parts of the country. Despite that, we had been good about keeping in touch, via the occasional visit and the frequent buzzes in our group chat, the kind whose title changes every time a new inside joke forms. All of them but me had been in serious relationships for most of that time, and this felt like a big deal to me. Callous as it sounds, I found I couldn't relate to them because of that—or rather, I was so nervous that they would no longer relate to me, that I had to distance myself first.
My main criterion for judging the deliciousness of a biscuit is whether it’s so warm and buttery, I forget who I was before tasting it. I’ve been lucky to lead a life where many biscuits have met this benchmark of existence-altering butteriness, thereby creating a positive feedback loop (slicked down with butter) and consequently, dangerously high standards.
So when my editor Hana asked me to test a biscuit recipe that contained exactly no butter, I prepared myself for what I knew would be massive disappointment.
It happens to all of us. A quick glance at the clock (or okay, let's be honest, a screen) tells us we're hours past lunch, yet still lightyears away from dinner and we're draaagging. Energy bars to the rescue! They're just the thing for, well, a little boost of energy to get through the rest of the day.
That's exactly what Baking Club member Emily Cline Baster thought she needed as she flipped though Baking with Less Sugar, this month's cookbook. She made author Joanne Chang's Nutty-Seedy-Fruity Energy Bars, saying:
Welcome to Your Home Outdoors, our summertime series on tips and tricks that'll help you live your best life outside―no matter the size of your space! So pull up a chair, grab a glass of something icy-cold, and join us.
Can we talk honestly for a minute? About picnics? Ok, here goes: Picnics stress me out. I’ve said this before (on this very website, as a matter of fact), pointing out the ways in which picnics—unlike standard dinner party entertaining, say—make me feel like the world is conspiring against me, setting a culturally agreed-upon standard for gorgeous ease that I will never achieve.
Ah, pudding. It’s the treat that soothes sore throats and sustains us after surgery. It’s what moms and dads tuck into elementary school lunchboxes, and whip together as last-minute crowd-pleasers. Creamy and velvety smooth, pudding feels like collapsing on the couch after a long day—it’s the ultimate comfort food.
And hey, Jell-O snack cups and instant mixes are great. But authors Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough have another super-speedy, from-scratch way to get your pudding fix. In their guide to lightening-fast cooking, The Kitchen Shortcut Bible, they take a page from mug cakes and transform pudding into a 2-minute microwavable affair.
Pack your bags! In honor of life’s most delicious highways, we give you Hit the Road, Snack, our travel guide of things to eat, see, and do this summer from coast to coast.
Okay. You were supposed to take a left turn, like, 4 miles back and instead of being on a highway barrelling toward your destination, you’re suddenly on a small, winding road. There’s no town (or building or person) in sight and you’re watching your cell phone service bars drop faster than your aunt on a Bar Mitzvah dance floor. Feeling lost, being lost, can be (quite literally) disorienting, heightened all the more by a host of anxieties that accompany car travel: time constraints, surprise sheriffs, a suspenseful true crime podcast finale.
We're in the dog days of summer, when all you want to do is sit by the A/C with a pint of ice cream. But don't sweat! We've got the best no-cook recipes to beat the heat in our newest series, Turn Off Your Stove (A/C optional, ice cream included).
For the majority of the year, I love the large window in my living room. It centers the space, my sill crammed with cookbooks and climbing pothos, while golden light reflects on my white walls. But from June to August, that westward-facing window becomes my worst nightmare as it filters and traps oppressive heat in my tiny apartment.
Most of America met Julia Child—who would have turned 106 today—in the 1960s.
At the time, my mother was a kid growing up in suburban New Jersey, skipping grammar school, climbing cherry trees, getting chased by her three-legged dog. My grandmother was working as a needlepoint designer and raising three children and, all the while, cooking dinner with Julia.
We’ve partnered with Ajinomoto Co. Inc. to bring you our latest contest—your best umami-rich recipe. Read on for all the savory, delicious details.
We’ve always felt that good things come in fives: lines in a limerick, points on a starfish, boroughs in New York City. And most importantly, the five basic tastes—sweetness, sourness, saltiness, bitterness, and umami.
Every so often, we scour the site for cool recipes from our community that we then test, photograph, and feature. This corny ketchup comes from longtime Food52er savorthis.
August is prime time for sweet corn, eaten on the cob, in salads and soups. But one thing we haven't done with corn is turn it into a smooth, creamy condiment that makes everything taste like summer. Until now.
My favorite summer get-together isn’t at the beach or by a pool. Heck, it doesn’t even involve people. Rather, I’m a sucker for when foods, specifically fish, get together with a smoky, hot grill—it’s a summertime match made in heaven. The grill gives your fish just the heat it deserves to get it tender, flaky, and with brilliantly crispy skin. A fish on the grill is truly a summer triumph.
But grilling fish can be daunting. What's the right kind? How and for how long should I cook it? What flavors go best with what type of fish? Where to begin?
A Big Little Recipe has the smallest-possible ingredient list and big, BIG everything else: flavor, ideas, holy-cow factor. Psst: We don't count water, salt, pepper, and certain fats (say, olive oil to dress greens or sauté onions), since we're guessing you have those covered. Today, we’re making a to-the-point dinner with weeknights in mind.
Since starting Big Little Recipes, we’ve taught you a lot of tricks to keep up your sleeve. Say, how to whip up your own BBQ sauce as easy as 1-2-3. Or turn cream into pudding with no eggs, no cornstarch, no gelatin. Or how to make any pasta feel like the only pasta in the world with a no-cook, 2-ingredient sauce.
As our train staggered into the last junction, a portly steward brought out a cart filled with trays of food. “Veg or non-veg?” he asked, wobbling his head from left to right. In India, this is a standard query at any restaurant or roadside stall. He repeated the question through his dark, bushy moustache, this time louder. The coach was engulfed by the smell of masala as the passenger with a bright blue turban uncovered the foil from his curry. He tore a piece of his roti and dipped it into a bit of mango pickle. Some version of this welcome always happens every time I visit my vibrant hometown of Amritsar, a city in the north Indian state of Punjab.
Amritsar is situated on of one Asia’s longest and oldest trade routes, the Grand Trunk Road, which was built during the Maurya Empire in 322-185 BCE and links South and Central Asia. The city is most famous for the Golden Temple, a holy site for the Sikh religion, the core tenet of which is seva (selfless service towards others).