Meg and I are both currently hooked on the writings of the obsessively funny Jeffrey Steingarten, Vogue's food columnist. She's tucked into The Man Who Ate Everything while I'm reading It Must Have Been Something I Ate. It's like Mr. Wizard meets David Sedaris meets The Galloping Gourmet.
The best part of this whole Steingarten-a-thon is that Meg has started cooking meat. You see, Jeffrey loves meat. And butter. And lard. And cheese. And eggs. He doesn't believe the hype about salad. He believes people can eat meat, fat, and cheese and still be healthy (see the French Paradox) and probably a whole lot happier. I am delighted on so many levels to hear this viewpoint - my viewpoint also - expressed so convincingly.
In the last week, Meg has twice stopped at Ottomanelli's Butcher Shop on Bleecker, once for filet mignon for Valentine's Day (which when combined with mashed potatoes and a small salad, is surprisingly economical for how damn good the meal is) and this past Friday for a whole chicken (which took far too long to cook due to a faulty oven, but turned out wonderful anyway due to Meg's skill in the kitchen and Dean Allen's whimsical directions). My tummy and taste buds are plently happy. Thanks, Jeffrey.
