David goes out to pasture. Uh, we mean, he decides the only eggs that shall touch his lips hereafter shall be pastured.
David divulges how he learned to bake bread late in life—and how he promptly became quite, quite obsessed.
Practice proper Southern gentility by whipping up a batch of that classic crowd-pleasing party must, pimento cheese.
David measures his friends on how true, honest, and kind they are—and how superlative their baking skills. His friend Cindi measures up.
Why make homemade ketchup? Because you can. And, as David explains, because no one can tell you that you shouldn’t. No one.
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.
David comes to understand that corned beef hash is far, far more than mere sustenance for The One.
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.
David divulges his fetish for puff porn, a habit that conveniently requires no confession with Father Fraga come Saturday afternoon.
Think you know lasagne? As Giuliano Hazan explains, what you know may be sadly mistaken. His recipe will fix that.
David tells the tale of the two drama-ridden dressings he grew up with at his family’s Portuguese Thanksgiving table.
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