What the Pan Remembers is not a cookbook or a traditional chronological memoir. It is a collection of 28 personal essays in which kitchens provide the setting and memory decides where the stories go.
What the Pan Remembers is not a cookbook or a traditional chronological memoir. It is a collection of 28 personal essays in which kitchens provide the setting and memory decides where the stories go.
I used to think the brown bits in the pan meant I had messed something up. Culinary school taught me otherwise. Deglazing is the moment you stop treating the pan like a mess and start treating it like the best part.
September is not fall in Florida. But it is usually the first time I stop resenting the oven, and the first thing I trust it with is a potato cut in half.
I thought ordering the New York strip would make me feel grown. It didn’t. The wedge salad did more for me than the steak ever could.
I keep two olive oils in my kitchen. One is for cooking. The other is the good one — the bottle I save for tomatoes, black beans, burrata, pasta, and anything that deserves the last word.
Some of the meals I remember best were never trying to impress me. A salad and torn baguette at a tiny table in Atlanta. A mushroom salad and steak frites from a chalkboard menu in Paris. They were simple, sure of themselves, and richer than plenty of more expensive dinners.