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No, that’s not ketchup on my cracker
The food memories that I’ve collected of late have been all to do with friends. The warmth and laughter and love that have filled rooms both small and large have cemented introductions to new, and now beloved, tastes. I remember the Brooklyn apartment where I had my first Carr’s black pepper cracker; who first made...
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In the Land of Milk and Honey…
With Friday fast approaching, and an undecided Saturday night looming, I’m dreaming of far off cities where my list of places to go is endless. This naturally leads into my chronic NYC lust, and the desire for a proper cocktail, that can best be quenched at the tiny elixir heaven called Milk and Honey. The unmarked door,...
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