David tries, sort of, to relax while on vacay with The One in Germany. He doesn’t exactly succeed.
The true story of how Leite’s Culinaria goes to Charleston to meet one another in person for the first time—and, natch, to eat.
When David decides to renovate the kitchen in Connecticut, he does so with his usual flair for the dramatic.
You’ve not “made it” until you’ve an eponymous cocktail all your own. Witness the Fatty Daddy, a sweetly surprising number that packs a punch, just like our own dear David.
In which David turns leftover corned beef he made into Irish-inspired lusciousness—a luscious mess, if you will.
Stop it. Please just stop it. Make it go away. Pretty please. [Editor's Note: A rant by David about the recent deluge of white stuff.]
If we had to choose just one roast chicken to spend the rest of our lives with, this would be the one.
Forever? Completely? Sounds like words used only in conjunction with things that inspire lasting love. Like this cake.
Slow cookers and the comestible that came out of them weren’t David’s speed until he caved and tried a slow cooker chicken stock. Now he’s a convert.
As David reveals, it’s always darkest just before dawn. But then all manner of magic starts to transpire…
David divulges his fetish for puff porn, a habit that conveniently requires no confession with Father Fraga come Saturday afternoon.
Despite something of a Dickensian upbringing, The One recalls his happiest moments spent with his hero and her favorite utensil.
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