Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Always Better The Second Day


When I was a kid, our typical leftovers were bland slabs of meatloaf or a Tupperware stuffed with Kraft Dinner. They were usually consumed by my Dad, standing over the sink, joyfully munching on the cold, tasteless shapes. And then, for years, I could barely afford to eat meals, let alone have leftovers.

And then a half Polish, half Italian mamacita came into our lives and we started seeing leftovers again. Whenever we go to Nick and Natasha's, we are loaded-up on the way out. Hunks of parmesan cheese her Dad got somewhere, or a bottle filled with olive oil more virginal than Taylor Swift. A slab of yesterday's cheese cake or a bag full of limes they won't get through.


(Giada has nothin' on her. Taken in 2006. Deserves a blog of its own.)

On Sunday, she not only cooked an incredible meal, she also sent us home with some high-end leftovers. The night before she'd made the most perfectly gorgeous beef tenderloin, beautifully seasoned parisienne potatoes and crisp green beans with crushed hazelnuts. I'd get less from an a-list caterer. And Gladware doesn't do it justice.

5 comments:

  1. Jason -You're so lucky to have such a doll in your life, and I think you gratefully know it.

    Natasha, darling, please start a food blog! A talent like yours can't be contained. Not only do you seem to be enormously dexterous, but you're wickedly hot to boot!

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  2. Wow, that was jarring. Here I was ready for a relaxing rainy-day post about the joys of leftovers, and this boudoir photo gets thrown in my face. But WHAT a boudoir photo! Clearly this woman takes names in EVERY room of the house.

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  3. Sensory overload. Jason, how do you do it?!

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