Cooking For Sig

A Sous Chef and Her Stories

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Farmer’s Market Day

On Saturday morning, there is a farmer’s market in Adams Morgan. There are always two produce vendors and a European style bakery stall that sells really excellent loaves of hearty, crusty bread. It takes me about a minute to walk from my front door to the market and about thirty minutes to agonize over the selection of fruits and vegetables, trying not to buy everything in sight. Plus, today’s purchase came with a free onion flower! Continue reading



The Grilling Saga Continues

photo (13)Monday evening was perfect grilling weather. It was warm, but not hot, sunny and dry with a gentle breeze. Plus, Matt arrived home just as I was headed down stairs with a tray of food, so I had the pleasure of his company while I tended the grill. Then disaster struck. While flipping a piece of tofu with a pair of tongs, I lost my grip and it landed on the ground at my feet. I looked at the sad, dirt covered tofu, looked at Matt, then back at the tofu. I pouted. “Five second rule. Pick it up,” he said. And so I did. Continue reading

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Adlers Eat Lobster

photo (11)Before I tell you stories about last night’s dinner, I want to take a few lines to thank you for reading. Despite my shameless plugs on Facebook, I really did not expect to find an audience for this compilation of personal stories, random recipes, and neurotic habits. So, I truly appreciate that you’re reading, if not for my ego’s sake, then definitely for your help in keeping Sig’s memory alive, which is really the whole point. Continue reading

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Potluck in the Garden

photo (10)Yesterday evening there was a goodbye party for Margo in the Coop garden. Margo has lived in the building for decades, but it’s starting to get difficult for her to climb four flights of stairs, so she’s moving into an assisted living community. Margo has led a pretty spectacular life. She was a foreign service officer’s wife, living abroad on several different continents. Along the way, she picked up Buddhism and still meditates daily and makes regular retreats to Buddhist monasteries. Continue reading

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Routine Gone Awry

Much like my father, I am a creature of habit. I wake up early, exercise, shower, eat breakfast; same thing every day, almost without fail. On Saturday mornings I go grocery shopping, first thing before the store gets crazy, so that I can browse comfortably without having to navigate the crowds or jostle for a spot in line. This was my dad’s routine too. He and I would go together to Bread & Circus and spend the better part of the morning, slowly perusing each aisle. We would often couple this errand with a trip to Dewar’s, the local butcher in Newton Centre. These were blissful bonding moments, peering into the glass cases together, looking for the best cuts of meat or specialty cheeses. Continue reading

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Breakfast Musings

french toastFor someone who takes so much pleasure in cooking, it’s curious that breakfast, a meal which often requires no cooking at all, has long been my favorite meal of the day. Perhaps it’s fasting through the night that makes breakfast so satisfying. Or maybe it’s because it’s acceptable to eat nothing but sugary, sweet foods and call it a meal. Regardless, breakfast is quite simply the best. Continue reading

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Love Your Leftovers

I’ve heard a terrible rumor that some people don’t like leftovers, that they throw away food they can’t finish in one sitting. I hope this is a flagrant lie. The thought of throwing away perfectly good food breaks my heart. Imagine slaving over a meal for hours and only enjoying it once! My dad had a knack for turning day old mashed potatoes or risotto into fried patties, golden brown on the outside and creamy in the center or shredding the dry chicken breasts from a simmering pot of stock into a curry salad studded with crunchy celery and sweet raisins. And of course, there was always cold pizza for breakfast after a night of carry-out from Bill’s. Oftentimes the leftovers were even better than the original meal. Continue reading