Articles
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1 week ago |
brooksreitz.substack.com | Brooks Reitz
We recently returned from a trip to New England, landing in Boston and driving South until we met the slender Sagamore Bridge, one of two entry points connecting mainland Massachusetts to the curled, whirling arm of Cape Cod. Crossing the bridge, I picked up 6A, the “Old King’s Highway,” a serene bit of road that gently unfurls over 60 miles, framed by thick canopies of trees and dotted with petite villages of cedar-clad cottages. I’ve never enjoyed a drive more.
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3 weeks ago |
brooksreitz.substack.com | Brooks Reitz
In my early post-college years, I purchased a cookbook by Nancy Silverton, which highlighted an approach I’ve long championed in this newsletter: cooking from your pantry. As unsexy as it sounds, that kind of cooking - using shelf-stable ingredients (bagged, jarred, boxed, or canned) from the cupboard or freezer - appealed to me then and appeals to me now. This dish is just that - dried pasta, tinned fish, frozen peas - all shelf (or freezer) stable ingredients I always have on hand.
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1 month ago |
brooksreitz.substack.com | Brooks Reitz
I don’t like the word “smoothie,” but I like drinking smoothies. They’re a quick delivery system for nutrition, and my ideal post-gym meal, which is obnoxious to say but true. During a recent lunch at The Kitchen at Plants of the Southwest (more on that in my Santa Fe guide tomorrow), we finished with a banana and miso cake. It was great - tender, subtly sweet, and moreish. I finished my cake and then went to work on my son’s - he was only interested in the accompanying ice cream.
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1 month ago |
brooksreitz.substack.com | Brooks Reitz
Palm Heights in Grand Cayman, a place I’ve written about before, is one of my favorites, and the food is a big reason why. I love their Coconut Aguachile (pictured below); it’s just the kind of light, cooling dish I like to eat beachside. Raw coconut, subbed in for fish, gets tossed with cucumber, avocado, cilantro, red onion, and plenty of lime and some kind of green chili.
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1 month ago |
brooksreitz.substack.com | Brooks Reitz
Several years ago, I took my wife, Erin, to lunch at Paul Rothe & Son, a small deli in London’s Marylebone neighborhood. It’s one of my favorite kinds of places: time-worn (operating since 1900), untouched by trend, unapologetically itself. I insisted she try their Coronation Chicken Salad, an English classic made each morning. I sat in the small dining area while Erin ordered at the adjacent counter. “For you, miss?” the woman behind the counter asked.
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