I had an uncle who never met a hunk of meat he didn’t like. He was the epitome of a carnivore and he died of a heart attack. It didn’t help that he smoked and lived a sedentary lifestyle. I wasn’t about to live as a vegan or even vegetarian but I decided to throw a meatless dinner party. I had friends who’d be pumped and others who would think I was losing my mind. Pasta primavera would be my main dish, which was light so I would counter-balance it with a chocolate molten cake. The latter would be to satisfy my guest Larry’s insatiable sweet tooth. I called him first because I had not seen him for ages and he’d surely accept.
Scotland can be divided into six different malt making segments or regions; Islay, Campbeltown, speyside, Islands Lowlands and highlands. Each of these regions produce a different malt as the characteristics are different so too are the methods of distilling. Climate variations, raw materials, and production methods all play a roll in the differing of these malts.
Lake Winnipesaukee was heaven in June. In the morning. Steam rose over the flat lake as the sun beat down on the cold water. I wasn’t a serious bird watcher but I enjoyed watching the cedar waxwings and cardinals. The evenings were still chilly but the afternoons were blissful. Having gone to college in the area, I knew it well. Meredith was a small resort town on the lake and I was lucky to be there just before peak season. June is a good month for weddings and I could see a reception being set up where I decided to have an evening cocktail. I had been at a wedding the weekend prior and I was still recovering from four days of celebration. I walked out to the patio bar, heated by overhead lamps.
I admit that there are very few instances in which I we don’t finish a bottle of wine once we’ve opened it. But there are some special wines that I’d like to savor and maybe just have one glass or a few sips and save some for later. That’s exactly what the Coravin is designed for. Here’s the problem…
My Mother hung up her apron when it came to fixing holiday dinners and as the only girl in the immediate Sterling family, I inherited the chore. She handed the carving knife to me and I would get it done with the help of my sisters-in-law, Brie and Ellen. The girls came to my house to discuss details. “I say if it aint broken why fix it,” Ellen said. “We should stick with the traditional sides that we always prepare and not make this the year to experiment.
A sunny day in the Northwest was a delight in February. I had packed all my waterproof gear and umbrella for a two-week stay in the city, which was unnecessary. I remembered Seattle differently than when I had visited 10 years ago. It was bustling and cosmopolitan. It had the feel that things were happening. I found the city to be walkable so I parked the Lincoln in the hotel-parking garage and took a jaunt to Louis Piano Bar; the type of place you would find in New York City. It was very old school with wood paneling and antique moldings. I took a seat on a sturdy wood stool, which swiveled. I was in the back of the restaurant at a small bar behind the grand piano. I said hello to the man sitting alone next to me and then flagged down the bartender.
My friend Maxine was moving into a quaint colonial in Western MA with her fiancé Alex. I hated helping people move and avoided it when possible. I thought of a way out of it and offered to make her and her hardworking friends dinner instead. Their kitchen would not be ready for weeks so I decided to barbecue burgers on the grill. I would use paper plates and bring my own glasses so they wouldn’t have to worry about clean-up.
Here's a step by step guide that shows you how to get the best results no matter what kind of whisky you're drinking.
When gas prices were on the rise, I parked my 1963 Lincoln in my cousin’s driveway. Prices had gotten to the point where I could afford to drive again and I couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel. My cousin lived in Manhattan Kansas so that’s where I found myself on a pleasant spring afternoon. Manhattan was a college town and I chose to go to a popular place where broke students took their visiting parents. It was Sunday and I had a day before I hit the road. My cousin was a college professor and he didn’t want to join me at a place frequented by students so I ventured into Hansen’s solo. I headed directly to the bar as the restaurant area was packed. I sat in the cloth-covered stool; relieved that it had a back because mine was killing me; too much time on planes and trains. The bartender who was quick on his feet made it over immediately.
My former Boss Michael asked for a favor, which happened often. He was the manager of Sales at a luxury hotel and I used to be his catering manager. “I left because I wanted time off. I seem to be working for you just as much, only I don’t have the corporate benefits,” I said only half-jokingly.