It happened again the other night.
If you go online to read one of Alex Jenkins’ reviews of Charlotte restaurants, you might notice a few things.
You know the Drunk Uncle skit on “Saturday Night Live”? This may be the Thanksgiving when it doesn’t seem so funny anymore.
Kyle Hagel’s job is written on his face, in the white lines of old scars over one brow and a cheek, in the fresh cut across his nose and a split lip.
N.C. author Ronni Lundy produces a masterwork on the cooking of Appalachia.
Sometimes the food world’s toughest struggle is defining itself.
The mayonnaise debate is still spreading.
There’s a lot of trash talk about mayonnaise around here, people. There’s the Southern favorite, Duke’s. And the mainstream favorite, Hellmann’s.
It does sound glamorous, I’ll admit: Driving all over with nothing but food on your mind and a list of things you have to eat.
We come here not to praise farm-raised eggs, but to share our misery over peeling them.
Let’s raise a toast to Charlotte’s new Whiskey Lane.
It’s not a cookbook – it doesn’t have recipes. It’s not a travel book – it doesn’t have addresses.
Does the essential perfection of the original glazed Krispy Kreme lose something when it leaves home?
The menu is all picked out for April 16, when five Charlotte culinary stars cook a sold-out dinner at the legendary James Beard House in New York.
“CSA” is one of those insider phrases. If you focus on eating locally, you know what it means. If you don’t, you wrinkle your forehead when you hear it.
You think the cookbook is dead?
When you’re a journalist, you have a complicated relationship with opinions.
Who knows how these ideas start? One cook throws a few things together. Someone else likes it.
You’d be surprised if you stepped into my kitchen and poked around in the drawers. The latest tools and gadgets, right? The most expensive, high-end cooking equipment?
In a perfect world, we wouldn’t need the government to give us Dietary Guidelines.
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