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Jeanne's Daughter
Twitter: amykover
Shortly before she died, my mother gave me a box of her recipes. Written in her funny, imprecise style, reading each index card feels like a live conversation. By cooking one of her dishes each week and recounting the experience, I hope to share with you the culinary secrets, wacky humor and ageless wisdom of Jeanne.
When my mother turned forty, her friends threw her a surprise party festooned with balloons stating: “You’re Old.” I found the gesture hilarious until yesterday, when I too became “old.”
For months, I plann ... Read more...
I take my Valentine’s Day crafts very seriously. In third grade, I spent hours making Valentine’s, painstakingly assigning Read more...
I can’t help but break out into a maniacal grin, when rereading this particularly forlorn passage from Cooking With Jeanne, circa February 4, 2011 Read more...
Roughly five times a day, I screw up as a parent. However this morning’s antics may have earned me a spot in the Mommy Hall of Shame. At 10:00am, I had just settled down to work and a coffee, when my cell phone cheerily announced: “Chaperone Fi ... Read more...
I love the idea of coming home to a ready-made dinner. So when I received a slow cooker from for Christmas last year, I was delighted with the prospects. For a month or two, I tried to slow cook everything – perhaps even cold cereal and turkey ... Read more...
in addition to a box full of recipes, Mom also bestowed upon me a crown of curls. Yes, I have been blessed (and cursed) with hair that has a mind of its own.
As a teenager in the early 1960s, Mom wanted nothing to do with those curls. S ... Read more...
My kids are not big seafood fans. Not that I can blame them. Fish revolted me until I reached my teens. In fact, I have yet to forgive my mother for telling me fried clams were French Fries. The rubbery texture haunts me to this day.
Read more...
For many years, my closet held a dirty little secret. Behind my boots, wedged between the wall and some outmoded purses, lay two beautiful Chinese scrolls that belonged to my parents. They once hung elegantly in our dining room, whispering of orange blossoms ... Read more...
Blogging is a funny thing. At times, I am repelled by this need to share stories with strangers. Who am I to think others should care? Why do we collectively want to share so darned much? At its worst, blogging is digital proof of the unparalleled narcissism t ... Read more...
I’m a crazy holiday binger. Yes, I am that girl at the cocktail party hording Hors d’Oeuvres and cramming chocolates into her mouth. It ain’t pretty. However, I just love miniature pastry-shrouded food that can be passed around on a plate. How often can I ... Read more...
