Archive by Author | Laura Parisi

Spicy chicken soup with kale

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This weekend brought perfect fake spring weather. By that I mean that it felt exactly like those beautiful late March days I remember from growing up on the East Coast, when an almost-warm sun would pop open the violets and daffodils, a shot of color amid bare maples—the sign that the snow was almost surely gone for good. Read More…

Remember the Wordle?

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So this, apparently, is what I write about: coffee, cream, milk, thyme and my mother.

Source: Wordle

Bourbon-Caramel Chocolate Truffles

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It’s become somewhat of a tradition to make cookies at Christmastime with my friend Katie, who I’ve known since kindergarten, and her dad, who also happened to be my fifth grade teacher. Perhaps “tradition” is a bit premature, since we’ve really only done this two years in a row, but I suspect it may become one. That is, if I don’t accidentally feed Katie a maggot-covered truffle ever again.

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Creamed onions and a happy Thanksgiving

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My mother called Thursday night just as my friends and I were about to sit down to a huge Thanksgiving feast. In New York, three hours ahead of us, her meal was long over.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Delicious! But we forgot the green beans in the microwave, and the creamed onions on the stove. I didn’t even realize it until we were done eating,” she confessed. “Can you believe that?”

Yes, I could. This happened once before on Thanksgiving—my mother reheated the turnips at the last second when she realized they’d gotten cold. We proceeded to stuff our faces with the rest of the 7,452 sides on the table and didn’t discover the turnips in the microwave until it was time for dessert.

I got off the phone and told everyone about what just happened to my mother’s creamed onions. That’s when I realized… Read More…

Coffee in a sippy cup—or how I have officially become my mother

This is me on a visit to Grandma and Pop-Pop's. My sippy cup is the orange one on the counter behind me. My brother's is the blue cup in the foreground. Both once held coffee.

I started drinking coffee when I was five years old. Half milk, half coffee, lots of sugar. In my sippy cup. It may be the reason I am so much shorter than both of my parents.

But I loved it—I loved the sweet milkiness and the warm comfort of my sippy cup. I loved reaching for a toothpick when the milk skin would plug up the tiny holes of the cup’s spout. I loved that I was given this “adult” treat in the morning. It felt special.

My mother is very particular about her coffee, which may be why she understood that her young kids would want it: Because a morning doesn’t start off right without a nice hot cup of coffee. Read More…

Lemon thyme ice cream

Lemon thyme ice cream

I’m baaaaack! With no excuse for my absence. All I can say is: Here’s to hoping that with the summer and all of its frenzy winding to a close, I can make this a more regular activity. But we’ll see. I know better by now to make a blog promise I can’t keep.

For now: Lemon thyme ice cream.

Let me start by saying: It is HOT in Portland right now (which, for us, is in the mid-90s). It rained like winter all throughout July and now here we are in the fall wondering if time has rolled back a few months.

Thanks to the arrival of Summtember, cold treats are now in high demand. In the last two weeks alone, Martin and I plowed through all 30 popsicles I made after developing a crush on THIS AMAZING COOKBOOK (which, side note, I highly recommend). So last night, with a distinct lack of popsicles in the freezer—and zero fresh fruit on hand for new ones—I decided: WE NEED ICE CREAM. Read More…

Yerba mate

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Mate! Mate! Anyone want mate?” I woke up to a chorus of this every morning for a semester in college—perhaps the only alarm clock that has ever successfully gotten me out of bed. Read More…

Flowers on the table

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I have so many stories in the docket, and yet I’m not ready to share them. Right now, amid the horror that Japan is experiencing right now, it feels trivial to be writing about the pleasures of food and the memories those pleasures have brought me. I spent the first four days after the earthquake and tsunami glued to the news coverage, followed then by a state of panic over the Cascadian subduction zone off of Oregon’s coast that experts say is going to do some serious damage sometime in the next 50 years.

Then a friend sent me this beautiful piece of writing, written by a woman in Tokyo, which put my sleepless nights into a bit of perspective. Read More…

Spicy carrot ginger soup

Totally unrelated to carrot soup, but isn't Calla simply adorable?

Martin and I made a pact to give up meat for Lent. Not that either of us is a religious person, but both of us have, you know, plumped up quite a bit over the last two years and we figured we might as well give the meatless thing a try.

We also tossed in a “no alcohol” challenge for good measure, but quickly dialed it back to “nothing but homebrew,” because I mean, really, how could we let the best beer in Portland go to waste? Read More…

Why we have such strong food memories

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“Everyone seems to have such strong memories associated with food.” A coworker of mine observed this after a meeting of our weekly writers’ group. Our task had been to write a series of six-word stories about family—and most of us ended up writing stories related to food. “Why is that?” Read More…

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