The Pelican Pantry

I'd have him chop the onions and garlic for me. He was so much more fastidious than me. I don't mind if they're all different sizes. I try to accomplish the prep work for meal quickly. He would spend so long, making sure everything was diced, not chopped, and uniformly...

I made quiche for breakfast yesterday. I'd baked a ham the night before, and there were leftovers. I also had plenty of eggs in the fridge, as well as a decent supply of pastry flour. "Damn, this is the best quiche I've ever eaten" -- my husband I've never been...

I'm a little disappointed that I haven't kept this site up-to-date during this pandemic. So much of my food habits have changed, and it's a pity that I haven't documented it all. My location has changed too — Kin and I moved from Seattle to Oakland a month ago. And...

The past month has been a whirlwind of "fine dining" and "oh my god, what did I just put in my mouth." I ate, for the first time, at a Michelin star restaurant: Hugo's in Berlin. It was exquisite. I ate at Roy Choi's new restaurant, Best Friend, in Las...

I never really liked pie, mostly because I think the British hide horrible things in theirs, pretending like a nice flaky crust makes up for the fact that the filling is death. e.g. steak-and-kidney, mincemeat. How can you trust a pie? Answer: you can't unless, you make it yourself. I...

I made Cornish pasties this week for the very first time, and I fucking nailed it. The crust was perfect, and the filling was perfect, and the local grocery store even sells HP sauce (in its “ethnic foods” section, no less). So perfect. I had one cold for breakfast, which...

Kin and I have very different tactics for filling our dinner plates. He will take enough food so that, when he’s finished he’s done. He’s full. Me, I don’t take a lot – enough so that I can finish. The point, for me, isn’t to be full. The point is...

If I have one big culinary regret, it’s that I never asked my grandma to teach me her recipes. She made two of my favorites growing up: fried chicken and chicken and noodles. As a kid, I’d insist that she cook my birthday dinner, which in hindsight was awfully selfish...

I made sloppy joes for dinner the other night. The checker at the grocery store – the one who always tries to guess what I’m cooking based on the ingredients in my cart – asked what I had in mind. “Ooo. What’s your recipe?” she asked, as she scanned my...

“Got any special plans for Father’s Day?” the cashier asked us, as she rang up our groceries. “Just cooking that corned beef,” I replied, pointing to the brisket in her hand. To be honest, I’d planned on cooking it long before I realized today was Father’s Day. It’s a Sunday,...