When city-building Spaniards came to the New World, they required skilled craftsmen willing to make a drastic life change and relocate to the other side of the globe.
The responsibility for our Thanksgiving meal falls primarily on Terri’s very capable shoulders. I gladly assume the role of sous-chef, which in my case is a highfalutin’ name for a potato-peeler.
Just when I think I’ve seen it all, another weird and wonderful bit of exotica pops up. Quail, chicken, or ostrich?
I’ve never met any serious camper who didn’t comment on how much better food tastes when it’s cooked outdoors. From a weekend family outing to a week-long backpacking trip, food cooked over a fire just tastes better.
For me, the quest for a medium rare burger is constantly elusive. So here’s the deal.