Friends,

On the evening of June 24th, my husband John died. He was flying to Indiana to coach a power soccer meet (wheelchair soccer). About an hour before landing, he ordered a coke. Asked if he wanted to drink it, John said: “No, I’m tired.” he then dozed off. When the plane landed, his attendant was unable to rouse him.

John was 57 years old. He had Becker Muscular Dystrophy, and had been increasingly ill for some time.

John and I were together 33 years. He was the reason I learned to cook.

Taken with a Polaroid camera in my bedroom, May 1993.

He was the reason I continued to cook, as my skills increased and necessity expanded into pleasure. Over the years we cultivated personal rituals around specific celebrations: Christmas morning meant Bloody Marys, bagels, and lox. His May birthday was celebrated not with cakes, but the fruit tarts he so loved. Our anniversary meant steak, or very rarely, veal. The arrival of summer tomatoes at Berkeley Bowl was cause for celebration: I’d buy a container of fresh mozzarella, some good olive oil, arrange the ingredients on one of my Homer Laughlin platters and call it dinner.

Since John died I have existed on bagels and the odd container of packaged ravioli. Moments before writing this, my housecleaner walked in with some Brazilian food. I don’t know the name of what she gave me, only that it was marvelous: a deep fried ball of chicken and cheese.

Will I cook again? Write? I believe so. But right now I am foundering in the morass of paperwork left after a sudden death. Also the grief. John was gravely ill for a long time. His death was not a surprise. This does not make losing him any less agonizing.

December 2011

Eventually I will plan a memorial with John’s relatives. The information will appear here and online.

My apologies to readers for the break in posting.

Our wedding day, June 1, 1996. Photograph by Christine Pierce

Before we get going…some of you may be reading the words “sherry” and “mushrooms” and hesitating. Don’t. I am not suggesting you buy a bottle of Pedro Ximenez (to pour into a pot? Seriously?). Nor does this recipe require mushrooms found by your friend Pierre during one of his weekend…

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Sorry for the break…..

June 10, 2026

I’ve been flattened by migraine. Fellow sufferers know migraine is not just a headache: it is a full-body electrical storm. Headache is only part of it. Mine have mercifully lessened in frequency and severity over the years, but every once in a while I get hammered. A new post will…

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  Stir-fried arugula with Asian noodles–they’re Udon noodles, if you must know–came about like many of my recipes: while I was distracted. Chinese preserved egg. By “distracted” I mean I was testing another recipe: adding various seasonings, tasting, and making lots of illegible notes. Late afternoon rapidly became early evening….

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It’s springtime. This means many things: allergies, half-hearted attempts at deep cleaning, the reappearance of fresh fava beans and peas at farmer’s markets. Fava beans and peas get along famously, served together or in combination with other springtime vegetables like asparagus, artichokes, or green beans. While these vegetable dishes are…

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I know, I know. Just what you need: another recipe for steamed salmon. There’s little original to say about this most popular of fish, save that I’m not fond of it. Well, that’s not exactly true. I’m happy to consume salmon smoked, generously draped atop a plain bagel with cream…

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Let me begin by apologizing for my protracted absence. Much in the IK is breaking down: the overhead kitchen light, the stove door, the house electrical panel. And so on. Then there’s the van. It spent over two weeks in the shop. Five thousand dollars later, it is finally home….

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No-Churn Lemon Ice Cream

March 21, 2026

People who like ice cream (hi!) will eat it no matter the weather. This is a relief, because as I write, the US is dealing with snow, flooding rains, and excessive heat. And many other issues, not to be discussed here. This makes posting recipes a challenge. I mean, it…

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Two nights ago yours truly was minding her own business, making dinner in her aptly named kitchen, when the power shut off. The San Francisco Bay Area is known for many things. Elderly housing is one of them: at 66 years old,  the IK is a comparative youngster. Nevertheless, the…

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Buttery, tangy cauliflower

February 16, 2026

A few weeks ago I bought a broccoflower-a broccoli-cauliflower cross–at the market. It was a perfect specimen, pale orange, beautiful. But the world was ugly that day, and posting broccoflower pictures online felt tone deaf. That night I cooked my perfect broccoflower with butter and seasonings. Distracted, I paid little…

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