Today’s edition of Two Top features Caitlin Pangares and Mike Schwartz, a Portland, Oregon-based married couple with a serious love of food and restaurants. I met Caitlin in Brooklyn, where she and Mike lived at the time, through her love of Hart’s, where I was then a line cook. We connected over a shared sensibility around food, as well as a shared identity as writers and creatives.

Caitlin currently contributes to a few Portland publications, including Willamette Week, Nester Magazine, and The Portland Mercury, and recently started contributing to Yolo Journal, too. She also co-authors the retail/restaurant Substack Open Tabs, which I highly recommend — although Caitlin and I have similar taste, so I truly do end up with far too many temptingly shoppable open tabs every time I read it. Mike is a Director of Marketing at Adobe, where he’s worked for almost a decade. Adobe was a company he’d always wanted to work for, ever since he started using tools like Illustrator in middle school.

Caitlin and Mike met in San Francisco, where Mike was the random Craigslist roommate of one of her friends. They lived there for 7+ years before relocating to NYC for 5 years. They moved back to Portland last summer with their dog, Rosie, and recently adopted an orange cat named Miso. When I saw their view of Mount Hood in Portland (see below), I 1000% understood their decision. I hope you enjoy getting a glimpse into the food-filled world of Caitlin and Mike in today’s Two Top.

Caitlin Pangares & Mike Schwartz

What did food mean in your house growing up?

C: As someone who is half Greek, food meant everything! The kitchen was, and still is, the heart of our home. We had dinner together almost every night. In my immediate family, I was always the most (and only?) adventurous eater. Which is not a dig! They’d tell you the same thing. It wasn’t until after college that I really found myself in food, both as a home cook and, crucially, dining at restaurants — my favorite way to spend money and time.

M: Despite coming from a big family — with four kids involved in just about every activity under the sun — meals together were a staple. Whether that was bagels and scrambled eggs almost every Saturday morning, grilled sausages on a summer night, or Campbell’s Soup recipes on rotation for easy weeknight meals. Each of us had our own seat around the table, which still gets referenced to this day, even though all my siblings are strewn across the country. Looking back, I don’t think the quality of the food or the meals is what mattered at all, so much as the ritual of eating together as a family.

What’s a dish you loved eating as a kid?

C: My parents both had their specialties that I loved and craved (Dad’s French toast, Mom’s chili and cornbread), but many of my core food memories revolve around my grandmothers. My Yiayia’s speciality was fasolakia — a traditional Greek recipe of green beans simmered in a rich tomato and onion sauce with tons of garlic and olive oil. For Yiayia (and kind of with all Greek cooking), it was less prescriptive and more instinctual and loose, which is how I like to cook now, contrary to my otherwise deeply type A personality.

On the other side, my maternal grandmother is maybe the best baker I know, a prolific gardener and a consummate host, so I sponged up a ton from her, too. The first dish I thought of for this question was her checkerboard cake. She made it using a custom pan that alternated the chocolate and vanilla layers in a stack to resemble the squares on a checkerboard. She always baked it for my birthday growing up and even made it for our elopement on the Oregon coast, dressed up with roses from her garden.

M: There are a few that come to mind — mostly family recipes that my mom kept on index cards. Perhaps the most obscure one is “seafood pizza.” My mom got super into the Pampered Chef parties that were popular with suburban moms in the 90s (and maybe still are?). One night, she came home with a cookbook and about half a dozen stoneware items, including a pizza stone. Straight out of the cookbook, she made the seafood pizza, which used Crescent rolls as a crust, topped with cream cheese, green onions, and imitation crab. And, for some reason, she added sliced black olives, which made absolutely no sense, but I guess contributed to my eventual passion for black olives on regular pizza. Cait and I tried recreating it a few years back, and it just didn’t hit the same.

Where did you go (and what did you eat) on your first date?

C: I don’t remember if this was officially the first (I’m categorically bad with dates/numbers) but I know an early one was at Tartine Bakery in San Francisco. We started dating around Memorial Day in 2013, and Mike’s birthday is shortly after. I’m indifferent about my own birthday, but I LOVE celebrating others, so I was adamant he have a slice of something and blow out a candle. We landed on Tartine’s famous banana cream pie — a treat we both still love. I’ve been forcing gently encouraging Mike to celebrate his birthday every year since.

M: We went to a random sushi restaurant off Market Street in San Francisco on our second or third date. I got into sushi at a young age, having tried it at a bat mitzvah in seventh or eighth grade. I remember sitting at the bar and insisting that Cait use chopsticks instead of a fork, which was especially torturous since she’d never used chopsticks before. I couldn’t tell you exactly what we ordered, but I can tell you Cait was a champ about it — and is now quite good with chopsticks!

C: That’s right! Trial by fire!

What’s the biggest difference in your taste in food?

C: Probably my perpetual need to have dessert, ha! I crave something sweet, even if it’s tiny, at the end of every meal to feel like the experience has come to a close. Even something like a “lunch dessert” Andes mint! A ritual I expect Mike doesn’t carry on when I’m out of town…

M: Less so a taste and more of a preference; it’s the amount of a garnish on a dish — chopped herbs, a drizzle of oil or honey, freshly grated cheese, etc. I frequently have to say “less than half of what you’re going to put on yours.”

What’s a food your partner introduced you to?

C: Oysters! And thank god! I hadn’t had one until we started dating and am forever grateful.

M: Sweets in general! I was never one to order dessert, but Cait will always “take a peek” at the dessert menu. It’s opened me up and developed my own sweet tooth.

Who cooks more, and what’s your dynamic in the kitchen?

C: I cook most of our meals these days, since my schedule is flexible as a freelancer. But I genuinely enjoy it! My favorite time of year to cook is right now — peak summer — where you can go to a farmers’ market or the grocery store and just grab whatever produce looks good and build a week’s worth of meals around that. I almost never follow a recipe, preferring to screenshot things I see from restaurants (98% of which are probably from Hart’s) and try to replicate them. Mike is a pro on the grill and also my hero for washing the dishes every night.

M: This has changed over the course of our relationship. When we first met, we bonded over our love of food and cooking, sharing recipes back and forth in an email thread called “Are you eating though?” — a Childish Gambino lyric — and now a shared album of screenshots. Over the past few years, Cait has taken the lead in the kitchen, and she’s so good at it. She can imagine a meal from a few ingredients or riff on something we ate at a restaurant. I’m usually handling raw meat and washing dishes playing a supporting role to Cait’s head chef. My friends would be blown away by what an “average” meal looks like in our house, and I have Cait to thank for that.

What are some staples that are always in your fridge or pantry?

C: Multiple mustards (seedy and Dijon) for dressings, local honey for spooning on top of yogurt or swirling into tea, Torres potato chips (specifically, the olive oil flavor), many many lemons, leafy herbs (dill, parsley) and hearty herbs (rosemary), briny capers, fresh pasta, rotisserie chicken, tins of anchovies and tuna, Parmesan, French salted butter, and, of course, good olive oil.

M: Plus an obscenely large jar of chili crisp, a rotating selection of breakfast cereals (that I eat predictably at about 9:30pm every night), and various hot sauces.

What does a typical weeknight dinner look like for you two?

C: Recently, I had some fresh bucatini, sungold tomatoes and a tin of sardines. So, I sautéed the sungolds in olive oil, butter (sometimes ya need both!) and oregano while simultaneously frying up the sardines and putting pasta on to boil. While that was cooking, I picked some butter lettuce and nasturtiums from the garden for a side salad. We ate it all on the deck, looking out at Mount Hood and the city — summer forever!!

M: This is a perfect example of where Cait gets inspired by whatever looks good or is in-season at the grocery store, and dreams something up. There’s really no typical dinner for us.

What’s a food tradition or ritual you’ve created together?

C: Every year for Valentine’s Day, we make nachos! We’ve done traditional nachos, Mediterranean nachos (pita chips and feta, among other things), and even tried to replicate nachos from places like Petty Cash in LA. For such an overhyped holiday (I say, as someone who got married on New Year’s Eve…), there’s something nice about celebrating with a silly meal at home instead of braving the crowds and prix-fixe menus.

M: After long days, when we order takeout, we’ll have what we call a “special occasion dinner”: sitting on the rug in the living room, eating off the coffee table, usually with an episode or two of whatever show we’re watching.

Is there a restaurant you like to return to for date night? Why that place?

C: In Manhattan, King was super special for us. I had my first-ever solo meal there (a dreamy lunch) before we even lived in NYC. We started going together during the pandemic, when they were doing window service with elegant offerings like whole boiled lobsters and raclette. It became our go-to spot for celebrating, for the return of the Harry’s Bar sandwich every spring (below left), or for when we just wanted to cozy up and split a tarte tatin.

In Brooklyn, Hart’s holds the #1 spot, for sure. And, full circle, it’s also how Phoebe and I met! To me, it’s the platonic ideal neighborhood restaurant — simple food, done exceptionally well. In Portland, we always seem to find ourselves at No Saint, a perfect Italian spot created by ex-New Yorkers, like us!

M: For me, it’s Cervo’s in New York. I also loved going to Elephant Sushi when we lived in San Francisco — their Russian Hill location was right around the corner from our apartment.

What dish would you make your partner if they had a bad day?

C: Tuna tartare with avocado mash and chips! It’s from this old Londoner recipe (anybody else follow this blog religiously, circa 2015?) and was one of the first things I ever made for Mike. Since tuna is his desert island food, this one always hits.

M: We have made Alison Roman’s “the stew” maybe fifty times; spicy chickpeas in a turmeric and coconut milk base with some lightly-wilted greens, served with a dollop of yogurt with pita bread or naan to dip.

What’s your go-to takeout order together?

C: In New York, curries from Dosa Royale, pizza from L’Industrie, a half chicken and salad from The Fly or sushi from 1 or 8 (RIP!). In Portland, this incredible fried chicken and roti spot called Hat Yai or the ginger salad and XL pork dumpling from Rangoon Bistro.

M: Siri Indian Cuisine here in northwest Portland. Specifically, the chicken korma with a side of garlic naan. And samosas.

What’s the best meal you’ve had together?

C: Oh man, impossible to narrow down! I can’t pick! But I will say, the best meal we’ve had so far in 2026 was at Rory’s Place in Ojai. Every single dish was phenomenal, we both got this carrot cocktail that I’m still thinking about, the atmosphere was relaxed, the design was dialed. It captured that rare thing in restaurants where you felt both at ease but also inspired— a tough needle to thread!

M: Ever? That’s tough. To name a few that come to mind: Clamato in Paris, the first time we went to Cervo’s before moving to New York, or that time we went to King on a weeknight, sat at the bar, drank a little too much of a mysterious spirit, and somehow ended up with a modified Eton mess combined with whatever the other dessert was on the menu. Good times!

What do you make for dinner when your partner’s out and you’re home alone?

C: Annie’s mac and cheese, every single time! So much so that my best friend recently sent me a reel talking about how Annie’s sold to some corporate overlords and were changing their ingredients and said “I’m sorry for your loss!”

M: I’ll usually opt not to cook and instead, get some kind of takeout that I enjoy, but Cait less so. Chicken katsu curry or Korean barbecue with tteokbokki come to mind. Insa in Brooklyn was a go-to for me on nights that Cait wasn’t around.

RAPID FIRE

Sweet or salty?

C: Salty-sweet! Is that allowed?
M: Salty

Coffee or tea?

C: It’s a seasonal answer for me — tea in the fall/winter (earl grey), espresso (iced cortado) in the spring/summer.
M: Coffee. If not at home, an iced americano, no matter what the temperature is outside.

Olive oil or butter?

C: Olive oil
M: Olive oil

What’s your spice tolerance (1-10, with 10 being the highest)?

C: Zerooooo! When we got takeout from Ugly Baby in Brooklyn, I couldn’t stop crying for literally hours because of the spice. Mike is so good at it, though. He even dressed up as Sean from Hot Ones last Halloween!
M: I can certainly tolerate a 10, but I’m comfortable in the 7-8 zone. I put chili crisp on more dishes than is probably appropriate (like cottage cheese?).

Thank you for reading, and thank you so much to Caitlin and Mike for sharing with all of us!

x Phoebs

Today’s sweet somethings include my friend’s wood-fired BBQ business, a beautiful cotton dress, briny Maine oysters, and my favorite BLT (which is actually a BBT).

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Sweet Somethings

Leo’s BBQ

My childhood friend Leo has an extremely cool job: running his own wood-fired barbecue business, Leo’s BBQ. He pops up at farmers’ markets around Vermont, including one near my parents’ house (they’re loyal patrons), and is available for private events and catering. Vermonters, hire him! His parents, Eric and Dina — two of my favorite people — frequently join him at market appearances, with his dad working the line and assembling plates of food for customers and his mom stepping in whenever needed and adding her warmth and charm to the whole experience. Leo lovingly calls his parents his “unpaid interns.”

He used to sell barbecue from a homemade cinder-block fire pit, but this season he took things to the next level with a custom-built offset smoker from Golden Goose Smokers engraved with “Leo’s.” When the fire blazes, the “Leo’s” engraving flickers reddish orange — a declaration of the firemaster.

As for the food, Leo sources all of his meat from Vermont farms and serves a whole range of barbecue, including lamb barbacoa, brisket pastrami, homemade sausages, and smoky fire-roasted eggplant. As I mentioned in my engagement post, Teo and I had the pleasure of enjoying a post-proposal dinner with loved ones at Leo’s BBQ, so it’s happily and firmly part of our story now. I ordered the smoked garlic scape chorizo that evening, which was definitely the right decision, although I don’t think you can make a wrong one. Orders come with your choice of meat plus beans, pickles, cornbread, and cabbage slaw — all homemade.

It’s exciting to watch a childhood friend build a business, even better when it’s in an industry adjacent to your own, and better still when that business results in great food you get to eat.

A Beautiful Cotton Dress

I bought this 100% cotton blue-and-white-striped dress on a whim, thinking I might wear it to a wedding (which I ultimately did). I ordered it online from Abercrombie & Fitch of all places — yes, the cologne-soaked dungeon of a store I used to drag my mom into every time we went to the mall. I was shocked to discover that it’s…my favorite dress I’ve ever worn?? It’s made from a crisp poplin with a nice weight to it, with an actually well-designed seamed-in bra so you can wear it braless. There are generous pockets, an elegant dipped waist, and a sweet picot-trim detail. Most importantly, I didn’t think about my body once during the wedding, other than to think about how good and comfortable I felt, and that’s always my goal when it comes to clothing.

Fish Creek Oysters

While I’m forever and always loyal to Fishers Island Oysters, I had the chance to try Fish Creek Oysters at the aforementioned wedding in Maine and thought they were extraordinary. Pure, clean, briny flavor. Each one plump, pearly, and perfectly shucked. I got to talking with one of the co-owners, Allison, and learned that Fish Creek is a small operation in Stonington, Maine, on Deer Isle, run by Allison and her partner, Jesse. If you ever have the opportunity to try Fish Creek Oysters, you are a very lucky individual. Side note: I don’t know what the hell made their mignonette so perfect, but it was PERFECT. I ate half my share of oysters au naturel (my usual approach) and half with mignonette because it was that good.

BBTs

My cooking has been admittedly limited this summer, as I’ve been chasing after Miss Liesl and booking it up and down the East Coast for weddings and other events. But I’ve still managed to prepare my fair share of tomato sandwiches, and I’m now ready to admit the following: my perfect BLT is actually a BBT — bacon, basil, tomato. I don’t need the lettuce. All I want is mayo, crisp-fatty bacon, a juicy summer tomato, and fragrant basil. Potato chips on the side, always.

That’s it for today’s sweet somethings. Thank you for reading! Hope you have a lovely rest of your week, and I’ll be back with more soon.

x Phoebs

This line from an essay she published last summer stuck with me:

“With the foodgram-fueled influx of overly crammed cheeseboards cluttered with multiple fruits, nuts, pastes, pickles, dips, spreads, crackers, vegetable sticks and even the odd sprig of rosemary, we’ve lost touch with the element we’re ultimately trying to enjoy: the cheese.”

I completely agree. People get distracted by the cacophony of cheeseboard culture and forget just how special cheese itself can be, and how much there is to discover about cheese once you start paying attention. Inspired by this idea, I came up with a series of scenarios and asked Rose to choose the perfect cheese for each one. Because choosing a great cheese isn’t just about flavor; it’s about mood, context, and who you’re sharing it with.

Phoebe: You’re home alone and have decided that tonight calls for a snacky-but-chic dinner. You have a baguette, radishes, prosciutto, green olives, and no interest in cooking. What’s the cheese you’re reaching for, and why?

Rose: At the moment, all I want to eat with a snacky, antipasto dinner is Gruyère or Comté. When tasting just right, they are both light and nutty, with notes of sweet leek and cooked cream. My choice depends on which tastes better when I crack open a wheel at the shop. If it’s possible, try to taste cheese before buying, and always listen to the advice of the person behind the counter. Ask questions. What’s been freshly cut that day? What’s made locally? What’s tasting particularly delicious? Customers often ask, “Do you eat cheese all day?” and are taken aback when the answer is always YES. Buy cheese from people who are tasting, testing, and thinking about cheese all day.

Phoebe: You’re cooking for someone you’re newly dating. You’re making a simple meal, but you want to finish with one magnificent cheese. What are you buying, and what’s your strategy?

Rose: Ooh!! This is tricky because I know my answer won’t be for everyone, but I’m not one for holding back where food is concerned. So. For a sultry, bold dessert, I’m buying an equal part creamy and spicy blue cheese. Think Roquefort, Rogue River Blue, or even a buttery Stilton. Serve it with a good-quality bar of milk chocolate (nothing too cloyingly sweet) and a punnet of berries that burst with dark crimson juice. Salty, sweet, and sour. Little mouthfuls of cheese with broken shards of chocolate and lush berry syrup. I know it sounds risky for an early date, but my strategy is that if it’s embraced, you’ve revealed an adventurous spirit. And if they don’t like the cheese, you still have the chocolate, berries, and whatever comes next.

Phoebe: You’re attending a picnic. It’s a beautiful blue-sky day, and you’re headed to the park for a picnic with friends. You need a cheese that can handle a little time out of the fridge and tastes just as good tucked into a baguette sandwich as it is enjoyed on its own. What’s coming with you?

Rose: A thick wedge of hard and herbaceous Italian Pecorino! It lasts for hours out of the fridge without getting the oily film, which, let’s face it, puts everyone off eating cheese at a picnic. One that is dry enough to be broken into moreish, salty nuggets for nibbling, and can be shaved over a chopped salad or into a baguette with salami and a handful of peppery rocket.

Phoebe: You got promoted! You want to treat yourself to something special, so you stop by the cheese shop. What cheese are you buying to celebrate?

Rose: Easy. Seasonal, soft goat’s cheese. Preferably in the shape of a pyramid or tall log, dusted with a fine layer of ash and made with spring milk. The best goat’s cheeses are delicate, rich, sweet, and sour all at once. Oozy under a layer of bloomy, rippling rind, they have a chalky centre that tastes like tangy citrus, buttermilk, and fresh grass. Sliced thickly on fresh, crusty bread with a drizzle of honey, I’m in heaven and feel deeply rewarded.

Phoebe: You’re invited to a dinner party by friends who are really into food. You offer to bring the cheese, and you want to bring something they’ll be excited to try. What’s your choice?

Rose: A funky and fruity washed-rind cheese. I feel like this is a lesser-known cheese category, but when we talk about stinky cheeses, this is the family we mean. They can be hard or soft and are literally washed in either a simple salt brine, beer, or wine. At their best, they are outstanding. Meaty, like ham sliced off the bone, melt-in-the-mouth prosciutto, or dark beef broth. Notes of allium, such as caramelized shallots, chopped chives, and roasted garlic. The fruitiness can taste like dried apricots, poached quince, or booze-soaked prunes. It’s a group that can vary wildly, but for a group of food-lovers, there is always something new to discover. My go-tos are soft French Soumaintrain or a wedge of Swiss Challerhocker; both can be matched with a jar of sweet cornichons, fresh baguette, or, my favourite, a bowl of potato chips.

Get me to the cheese shop immediately!! Thank you for reading, and thank you, Rose.

More soon,
Phoebe

We’ve known for a long time now that we’re life partners, but it’s still such a joy to make it official with a buttery gold ring and to tell our loved ones that we’ve found the person we want to spend the rest of our lives with.

I wanted to share about our engagement here, since this newsletter has followed the entire arc of our relationship. The Dish began in September 2021, when I embarked on a 12-week course at Ballymaloe Cookery School in Ireland. Teo and I had re-met the summer leading up to that course, and there was a sense between us that our connection could turn into something real. But he lived in Montana, and I was moving to Ireland for a few months, so it didn’t make sense logistically. By visiting me in Ireland, and later moving back to New York City in part to be closer to me, Teo demonstrated that he felt as strongly about me as I did about him. The Dish has followed that journey and everything that’s come since — five years of a relationship that will become a marriage.

Thank you for reading The Dish, supporting my creative life, and following my story as it unfolds.

Love,
Phoebe

I keep reminding myself that I’m in the thick, brambly stretch of puppy parenthood, and that before long I’ll have the freedom and energy to return to ambitious hosting and cooking. And besides, she won’t be this small, smushy, and portable forever, and I’ll miss this version of her.

Anyhow, I’ve been meaning to write about that dinner party because it was such a successful evening, and I loved how the meal came together. The anchor of the menu was Roman rice-stuffed tomatoes, roasted until the tomatoey rice filling was tender and the tomatoes were almost bursting, their skins blistered and soft. It’s a dish I ate often while living in Rome, where it’s not only prepared at people’s homes, but also available for purchase all over the city at canteens called tavole calde (literally: hot tables). In Italy stuffed tomatoes are humble, everyday sustenance, typically roasted over potato wedges. Here, stuffed tomatoes are a rarer sight, which makes them feel all the more whimsical — the tomatoes’ tiny caps perched on top like little hats.

I hosted this dinner not only because I wanted to bring this group of friends together, but also because I really wanted to make stuffed tomatoes for a crowd.

To go with the tomatoes, I roasted two whole branzinos, which I asked my local fishmonger to gut and scale. When I was ready to cook them, I cranked the oven to 450°F, rubbed the fish with olive oil and salt, tucked lemon slices into the cavities, and roasted them until the flesh was opaque and flaked easily with a fork. Served with a little aioli and salsa verde? C’moooon. Of course, you by no means have to do a whole branzino (although it does play up the whimsy). Any firm white fish would be a lovely match for stuffed tomatoes, aioli, and salsa verde. If fish isn’t your thing, maybe roast chicken is, or lemony braised chickpeas, or griddled halloumi — all would be delicious companions. Add a simple green salad and a loaf of crusty bread to any of the above, and dinner is done.

We’ll focus on the star of the show today: Roman rice-stuffed tomatoes.

The pulp, scooped from the tomatoes, doesn’t go to waste but instead gets strained into a sweet broth and simmered with the rice, adding another dimension of tomato flavor. Seek out the best summer tomatoes you can find: sweet, ripe, and just firm enough to hold their shape in the oven. They should also be large enough to yield plenty of sweet-tart pulp while leaving generous vessels for the filling. Arborio or carnaroli is what you want here, along with plenty of fresh basil to tear into the warm rice filling.

Roman Rice-Stuffed Tomatoes

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When I’m headed to a dinner party, I like to bring something that contributes to the meal in some way. That might mean a bottle of wine for the table, a snack to share, or dessert to take one thing off the host’s to-do list.

Hot Fudge Sundae Fixings
If someone knocked at my door with vanilla ice cream, hot fudge (even better if homemade), rainbow sprinkles, and Maraschino cherries, I think I’d kiss them.

Box of Italian Cookies
I have my friend to thank for this one. He told me one of his go-to dinner party offerings is a box of mixed Italian cookies from Court Pastry Shop. I brought one to a Knicks viewing party this spring, and picking out the assortment was almost as much fun as it was to pass around the box after dinner.

Potato Chips, Crème Fraîche, and Caviar or Trout Roe
This is such a classy, unexpected gift — ideal for festive occasions like holiday parties and birthdays. Bonilla potato chips always steal the show, thanks to the graphic oversized tin that lives a very happy second life as a flower vase (see below). But there’s no need to splurge for the sake of it. I’d be just as pleased to be handed a bag of Ruffles for some high-low magic. The same philosophy applies to the roe. If you’re feeling flush, spring for the caviar. If not, trout roe is every bit as celebratory and, dare I say, just as delicious.

Wine and Wine Key
When in doubt, I outsource my wine decisions to my friend . Buy a bottle she’s recommended on Substack, then read her tasting notes aloud before you open it (rosé, perhaps?). I can guarantee that her words make every bottle taste even better. If you want to make it a bigger gift, pair it with a well-designed wine key like this fancy Craighill one (I have it in red and love it) or this straightforward, elegant option.

Olive Oil
Simple, classic, and always appreciated. If you feel so inclined, add crusty bread and sea salt so the olive oil can be enjoyed the minute you arrive. A few reliable brands are Inez, Wonder Valley, and anything/everything Gustiamo sells, like this Sicilian tin.

Most of the ideas below are breakfast-related because I think breakfast is one of the best gifts you can bring a weekend host. Showing up with bagels or babka gives your host one less thing to think about and lets everyone ease into the morning a little more slowly.

Bagels, Cream Cheese, and Lox
This has become my favorite move when Teo and I head north to Vermont. It’s admittedly a little selfish because it means we get to eat bagels all weekend, but showing up with an oversized paper bag from Court Street Bagels (our local) or Bagel Bob’s (our heart) is always a hit. We usually buy the cream cheese and lox once we’re in Vermont, both for food safety and as an excuse to stop at a local market before settling at home. Throw in some dill, capers, and lemon if you want to get fancy with it.

Breads Bakery Chocolate Babka
I’ve loved the chocolate babka from Breads Bakery since my early days in New York, and nearly a decade later, it’s still a favorite. Babka occupies that happy space between breakfast and dessert, equally at home alongside morning coffee or as an afternoon snack. Leave it on the counter with a knife for the weekend, and it will inevitably disappear, slice by tiny slice.

Tartine Fixings: Baguette, Salted Butter, and Raspberry Jam
Tartines (open-faced baguette toasts) are ubiquitous in France, and at breakfast, they’re typically topped with salted butter and jam. I love the idea of gifting your favorite butter — I reach for Rodolphe Le Meunier Beurre de Baratte or Isigny Ste Mère if I can find them — along with a jar of jam. Day-old baguette toasts up well, so it’s perfectly fine to buy it in advance. Leave everything on the counter, and breakfast is taken care of. If there are kids around (you can be the kid), tuck in a jar of Nutella, too.

Peak Season Fruit
It’s so simple, but a bag of peak season fruit is one of the nicest things you can arrive with. In July, that might be peaches; in August, figs; in September, Concord grapes. Just plan to hit the greenmarket or a farm stand before you hit the road. It’ll get eaten throughout the weekend: with yogurt at breakfast, arranged on a cheese board, or standing over the sink after dinner.

Dried Mushrooms and Arborio Rice
The start of a lovely vegetarian risotto, which your hosts could cook that weekend or save for another day. I love dried porcini mushrooms for their deep, woodsy flavor, but don’t overthink it — any bag of mixed dried mushrooms from the grocery store will work. You can also stretch the dried mushrooms with some fresh cremini or shiitakes. For the rice, you’re looking for Carnaroli or Arborio. The only remaining ingredients are an onion, Parmesan, and a splash of white wine, all of which they probably already have or could easily pick up.

Thanks, as always, for reading. If you have a favorite edible host gift, I’d love to hear about it.

Much love,
Phoebs

P.S. I’m bringing the sweetest/milkiest/best fresh mozzarella from Caputo’s Fine Foods to a dinner party tonight.

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Sweet Somethings

Liesl

The big news in my life is that Teo and I brought home a puppy, Liesl, just last week. Her full name is Liesl OG Brunson Burnham-Fry — her middle names, of course, pay homage to two of our favorite Knicks, both of whom loom large in post-victory New York — but we’ll just call her Liesl.

Bringing her home was a decision long in the making, and one we’re so happy we made. This isn’t to say it hasn’t been an adjustment. Just as Teo and I are getting to know Liesl and settling into a new routine, she’s getting to know us and adjusting to Brooklyn life, away from her litter. Behind all the cuteness and cuddles, there’s me and Teo, running around our apartment with paper towels and enzymatic cleaner, cleaning up her pee. She’s doing her best, and we’re doing ours. We’re a bit sleep-deprived, and I’ll speak for myself when I say I’m feeling a little extra sensitive and mood-swingy as a result. But those feelings are more than balanced by the lovemuffin we’ve welcomed into our lives, and Teo and I are being kind to each other as we navigate this new reality.

Liesl is today’s first sweet something: 6.69 pounds of utter sweetness and chaos wrapped in a silky, red-and-white, floppy-eared package. She’s a big part of my life now, so I suspect she’ll appear in The Dish here and there.

Tomato Toast

IT’S TOMATO TOAST SEASON!

Teo is a purist: a generous spread of Hellmann’s, a thick slice of ripe tomato, a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and maybe a few basil leaves if he’s feeling fancy. I’ve been having fun with mine lately, spreading on Cabi mayo (the wasabi one is a surprisingly perfect match) and finishing it with spicy fried shallots, both of which I buy from Big Night. Whether you keep it classic like Teo or gild the lily like me, tomato toast comes together in approximately two minutes, which is about all the time we have these days before tending to the adorable, manic whirlwind that is Liesl.

Vato

When a fierce burrito craving struck the other day, I happened to be in Park Slope, so I made my way to Vato, a new tortilleria from the Corima team. They serve northern-Mexican burritos, as well as pastries and coffee, in a modern, thoughtfully designed space. The burritos are on the slimmer side, which I actually really liked, so I picked up a few to bring home for us to try, along with containers of both the green and red salsas. I was particularly impressed with the bean and cheese burrito — so simple, soft, rich. When the tortilla is as good as this one was, you don’t need to do too much with the filling.

I didn’t get any coffee or pastries this time around (my excuse is that it was 95 degrees and I was riding the burritos home on a Citi Bike), but everything looked exceptional. There’s always next time.

Fun fact: “vato” means “homie” in Spanish.

Freehand Drawing

I do most of the drawing for Frying Pan Paper Co. on my iPad, which I love because it lets me undo, redo, fuss, and tweak to my heart’s content. Pen on paper is much less forgiving; you get one chance to draw the line the way you want it.

That said, I think it’s important to keep up a freehand drawing practice — to let your lines and shapes be natural, true to your style, and guided by your own hand, unmorphed by endless revisions. So that’s exactly what I’m trying to get back into as an artistic exercise. In the process, I’m remembering how relaxing it is to let my hand lead the pen across the page, allowing whatever happens to happen.

That’s it for this round of sweet somethings. Thank you very much for reading! Have a lovely weekend, and now it’s back to the puppy for me. X

More soon,
Phoebs

Having noticed that food appears in both of their work, I thought they’d be the perfect people to explore a question I’ve been thinking about: what role does food play in our romantic relationships?

Sandy Sanchez & Aaron Aalto

What did food mean in your house growing up?

S: My parents are very traditionally Salvadoran, so we rarely explored other cuisines growing up. Our food was simple and nourishing: lots of beans, rice, chicken, eggs, and plantains. At the time, my mom didn’t know how to make pupusas (now she does!), so on the weekends, we’d go out for pupusas.

Growing up in Texas, we also ate a lot of Tex-Mex. On special occasions, we’d go out for fajitas. There are places my family still goes to, 30+ years later. My parents were always the hosts, so we’d grill at home and invite our family over. We ate all of our meals together. One of my favorite childhood memories is my dad and me eating breakfast together on Saturdays (my mom was at work). I’d ask him questions about his childhood, and we’d stay at the table for hours.

A: Food meant gatherings. It’s kind of a trope-y answer, but it’s true. The smell of food cooking pulled you away from whatever you were doing. My parents were active in their community, so there was always someone joining us for dinner.

What’s a dish you loved eating as a kid?

S: Tamales de gallina!1 We’d only make them on Christmas, so they were extra special. On a regular basis, though, I just loved our breakfast: eggs, red beans, fried plantains, cheese, and crema. I never got tired of it.

A: Tacos de lengua.2 I recently started making my own, so I buy an entire beef tongue from the butcher every now and then. And flour tortillas — my mom makes the best ones. And my grandpa makes the best birria and barbacoa.

Where did you go (and what did you eat) on your first date?

S: On our first date, we went to Dick and Jane’s in Fort Greene, and then we went to Roman’s after for another drink. We didn’t eat!

A: After our second date, we were actually just friends for almost a year. But when we started dating again the following summer, that’s when I began cooking a lot for her. We’d make tostadas, arepas, lamb tacos, and breakfast sandwiches.

What’s the biggest difference in your taste in food?

S: Aaron loves seafood a lot more than I do. I had kind of avoided seafood, but since being with Aaron, he’s encouraged me to try new things, which I’m very grateful for. I enjoy most roasted fish now, and I love ceviche. But when he wants sushi or omakase, he goes alone or with friends.

A: I’m very adventurous, I think. I like challenges, whether it’s through spice or trying a cut of meat I don’t usually eat. I also love seafood.

What’s a food your partner introduced you to?

S: So much! I was a pretty particular eater before meeting Aaron. I was around 22 or 23, and my palate was very undeveloped. Aaron got me into so many things: avocados, lamb, pesto, hummus, blue cheese, pozole, mole, ceviche, crudo, chorizo — the list goes on.

A: She introduced me to the world of pastries. She brought sweetness into my life. Before her, I wasn’t actively seeking that out.

Who cooks more, and what’s your dynamic in the kitchen?

S: I think we cook equally. Aaron tends to take the lead on breakfast in the mornings, though. I make the coffee and help prep, but he handles the cooking. Work has been busy for me lately, so Aaron’s been making dinner pretty often too, while I pick up groceries on my way home from work. We’re actually making ceviche right now and a salsa roja for some enchiladas we’re making later.

A: It’s 50/50. It depends on the rhythm of our days. If one of us is busier with work, the other takes the lead in cooking. But on Sundays, when we’re both home, we like to cook together. When it comes to baking, though, Sandy takes charge. Although I did have one week recently when I got really into sourdough.

What are some staples that are always in your fridge or pantry?

S: Eggs, cheese, tortillas, berries, rice, oatmeal, tea, canned beans.

A: Tortillas, pickled jalapeños, some type of salsa. Some kind of fun beverage.

What does a typical weeknight dinner look like for you two?

S: We like meals that are easy to prepare and ideally yield leftovers for the next day. We have some go-tos: baked nachos, chicken and rice, quesadillas, soup, and stir-fry. And ideally, some type of vegetable. We’re trying to get better at eating more vegetables.

A: Sometimes we can’t resist going the extra mile. On Sundays, we make a menu for the upcoming week, so it gives us something to look forward to. It also helps us budget our food spending and minimize food waste. Some weeks we cook at home more often than others. Some of our favorite meals have been the ones where we throw together leftovers, blending food from different cultures and probably breaking some unspoken rules about how you’re “supposed” to prepare a particular fish, but they end up being really good. Our dishes sometimes look like the United Nations.

What’s a food tradition or ritual you’ve created together?

S: Not only do we love cooking, but we also love plating our food. Aaron always puts so much intention into how our meals are presented and makes every meal feel special. That’s one of our daily rituals!

A: Another one is going to the farmers market every Sunday. We love grocery shopping and trying new things. We also love flipping through cookbooks.

Is there a restaurant you like to return to for date night? Why that place?

S: Long Island Bar! We always split a Little Gem salad, deviled eggs, a chicken sandwich, and an IPA. We sit on the stools by the window, and it always hits.

A: And Inga’s Bar. We have a favorite corner table. We split a burger and like to try different appetizers and desserts. We love their crudo. They always have great things on the menu.

What’s the best meal you’ve had together?

S: Oh my God, we’ve had so much good food together. We were in Mexico for several months once, and every day we had something amazing. There was a little hole-in-the-wall breakfast spot near us where we’d get enchiladas suizas3 almost every day. We also splurged on a meal at Pujol, and it was magical. There was also this Oaxacan place called Maíz de Cacao that we loved.

We were also in Italy for three months! We have a favorite trattoria in Florence where we had the most amazing aglio e olio. And we had the creamiest, most perfect pasta in Rome at Trattoria Da Enzo. And of course, the burger at Inga’s Bar. But I also love the meals we make at home, like Alison Roman’s Spiced Braised Short Ribs with Creamy Potatoes.

A: Honestly, the aglio e olio at that little trattoria in Florence. It felt like we were in someone’s living room. Their little kid was just playing in the front of the restaurant.

What dish would you make your partner if they had a bad day?

S: Pasta! I’d pick up fresh pasta from Tortelli and make him either a sungold tomato pasta, lemon-dill pasta, or pancetta tomato confit pasta.

A: I’d invent something using her favorite ingredients. I’d make her comfort food, but in a new and fun way to cheer her up. One time, I made her a potato tower with pecorino, and she loved it.

What’s your go-to takeout order together?

S: Tacombi. We’re trying not to order takeout so much, but Tacombi is probably where we order from most when we need a quick, delicious meal and don’t feel like cooking. If not that, we’ll pick up Al Badawi or Yemen Café.

A: When we order from Tacombi, we get the burrito, fish tacos, and esquites.

What do you make for dinner when your partner’s out and you’re home alone?

S: Honestly, I always end up making breakfast tacos for dinner.

A: I like to roast a fish — or make something easy, like nachos.

Rapid Fire

Sweet or salty?

S: Sweet.
A: Salty.

Coffee or tea?

S: Coffee.
A: Coffee.

Olive oil or butter?

S: This is so hard. I’m gonna go with butter.
A: Olive oil.

What’s your spice tolerance (1-10, with 10 being the highest)?

S: 6 or 6.5. But Aaron think it’s a 5.5
A: 10+

Thank you for reading, and a big thank you to Sandy and Aaron for sharing with all of us!

More soon,
Phoebs

In every kitchen I’ve spent time in, stale bread has enjoyed a curious sort of prestige. I’ve learned that the best cooks see day-old bread not as an inconvenience but as a possibility.

At Ballymaloe, we transformed stale white bread into bread and butter pudding, each slice soaking up cream and eggs until there was no telling where the bread ended and the custard began. The raisins plumped, the sugar caramelized around the edges, and what had begun as yesterday’s loaf became the dessert equivalent of sinking into a faded floral couch — soft, comforting, perhaps unfashionable these days, but all the better for the nostalgia.

At Hart’s, leftover pizza bianca disappeared into salmorejo, a Spanish cold soup, with watermelon, tomato, onion, sherry vinegar, and olive oil. Yesterday’s sourdough was always chosen for clam toast because it fried more beautifully than a fresh loaf, becoming crisp without losing its chew. At Cervo’s, thick slices of day-old bread received the same treatment before being topped with tuna conserva. Stale bread was used not only to reduce food waste, but because it was actually better for the task at hand.

The Rome Sustainable Food Project was perhaps where this way of thinking became a habit. Every scrap of bread was diligently saved for breadcrumbs, then mixed into meatballs, used to coat arancini or cutlets, or toasted and scattered over pasta. Slices that had begun to harden were drizzled with olive oil and toasted into crostini. In summer, stale bread became panzanella, yielding to tomato juices and olive oil until it was neither crisp nor soft but something in between. Winter belonged to ribollita, a bean-and-vegetable soup thickened with hunks of stale bread until it became a meal unto itself.

These days, one of the stale bread recipes I return to most often is Deb Perelman’s kale and caramelized onion stuffing. I make it every Thanksgiving, though I’d happily eat it in February or on any ordinary Wednesday. Cubes of sourdough, preferably slightly stale, are revived with chicken broth and sherry, folded through sweet onions and garlicky kale, then baked until the top bronzes. The result is earthy, savory, and somehow luxurious despite the humble ingredients.

For the recipe that follows, I reserved a Surprise Bag from Bien Cuit through the Too Good To Go app and picked it up late one afternoon. Surprise Bags often contain an assortment of items, but to my delight, mine held a giant country loaf (weighing more than two pounds!) for a fraction of what it would have cost fresh. The funny thing was, it still felt fresh, springing back when I gave it a squeeze. It had almost certainly been baked that morning: too fresh to seem like yesterday's bread, but no longer fresh enough to command full price the next day. It was just what I needed.

This recipe borrows from that kale and caramelized onion stuffing but takes it in a breakfast direction, strata-style. Cubes of day-old bread soak up a custard of eggs and milk before being baked until puffed, crisp-on-top, and tender in the center. It’s adaptable depending on what you have — greens, herbs, leftover roasted vegetables, cheese — and it’s one of my favorite ways to feed a crowd without spending much.

Take your Too Good To Go loaf, some eggs, milk, cheese, a couple of onions, and a bunch of greens, and you’ve got the makings of a beautiful brunch for eight for under $20. Not because you’re cutting corners, but because you’re cooking the way generations of resourceful cooks always have: by seeing abundance where others see leftovers.

Caramelized Onion & Greens Strata

Serves 8

8-10 cups day-old country or sourdough bread, cut into 1-inch pieces (about 1 pound)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 large yellow onions, thinly sliced
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 garlic cloves, minced or finely grated
1 bunch kale, stems removed and leaves chopped roughly (or substitute spinach or Swiss chard)
8 large eggs
2 cups whole milk
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard (optional)
½ teaspoon dried thyme (optional)
1 cup shredded cheddar

1. Head the olive oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium-low heat. Add the onions with a generous pinch of salt and cook, stirring every few minutes, until deeply golden and jammy, about 30-40 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another minute, until fragrant.

2. Stir in the kale with a splash of water. Cook until wilted, about 4-5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and transfer to a large bowl. Let cool slightly.

3. Add the bread to the bowl and mix with the kale and onions.

4. Grease a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Scatter the bread mixture evenly in the dish.

5. In the same large bowl (no need to clean it out), whisk together the eggs, milk, ½ teaspoon kosher salt, several grinds of black pepper, and the Dijon and thyme, if using.

6. Pour the custard evenly over the bread, pressing gently so every piece has a chance to absorb some liquid. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

7. The next day, heat the oven to 375°F. Sprinkle the cheddar over the top and bake for 35-40 minutes, until the custard is set and the top is golden. If it browns too quickly, loosely tent with foil for the final 15 minutes. And if you’d like extra browning, finish by broiling for a couple minutes.

8. Let the strata rest for 10 minutes before serving. Serve on its own or with a crisp green salad.

Budget Breakdown

Based on what I paid for these ingredients in NYC

Day-old bakery loaf (Too Good To Go Surprise Bag allocation): ~$3.26 (the Surprise Bag cost $6.52, and I used about half the loaf)
8 eggs: ~$4.33
2 cups whole milk: ~$1.55
2 yellow onions: ~$1.24
4 garlic cloves: ~$0.42
1 bunch kale: ~$3.00
1 cup shredded cheddar: ~$2.50
Pantry staples (olive oil, Dijon mustard, dried thyme): ~$1.00

Total: About $17.30 for 8 generous servings (about $2.16 per person).

Thank you all for reading, and thank you, Too Good To Go!

Happy cooking,
Phoebs

The students had already gone home for the summer, and the atmosphere brought back a familiar feeling: the campus becoming my playground again after everyone scattered across the country and the world for summer break. The lawns were verdant and meticulously mown, every surface seemingly freshly dusted. Walking trails wound through the quiet woods at the edge of campus. When you stopped and listened, you could hear birds chirping and leaves rustling. I felt a surge of gratitude for having grown up and had the opportunity to study in such a serene and well-tended environment.

Beyond the beauty of the campus, one thing that stood out to me all weekend was how relaxed Luke and Maeve seemed. When I commented on it to my aunt, Luke’s mother, she said that this kind of ease is a reflection of being with the right person. I thought that was such a lovely observation. It made me feel grateful to experience the same kind of ease in my own relationship.

I returned to the city after the wedding for just a few days, and now, after what feels like a single breath later, I’m leaving town again. Such is summer life: joyful, migratory, overcommitted.

When we have travel plans and know we’ll be flitting in and out of the apartment, I try especially hard not to overshop or overfill the refrigerator, knowing that the odds of us finishing everything while it’s still fresh are slim. But when I’m home between trips, I still want to cook simple, nourishing meals and eat them at my own table. The challenge is finding recipes that don’t require a long shopping list, but still taste fresh and satisfying. It’s the art of cooking with an empty, or near-empty, refrigerator.

The other day, I was reading the New York Times daily newsletter, which featured an interview with the paper’s new co-restaurant critics, Tejal Rao and Ligaya Mishan. First, let me just say that I love that these women — two of my longtime favorite food writers — are our city’s new restaurant critics. Second, I was charmed by their answers to a question about their go-to meals at home.

Their job is to eat: to try menus in their entirety, to know the New York City restaurant scene better than anyone, and to bring a critical eye to it all. I love that when they’re home, they crave anything but complicated, oversaturated restaurant food. They want rice, vegetables, and protein, prepared simply and well. Tejal’s answer especially resonated with me. This is because one of my favorite meals — particularly when there’s little in the refrigerator — is crisp nori, warm sushi rice, a little protein (usually tinned fish), and whatever toppings happen to be around. It’s a reset for both body and spirit, and conveniently built from pantry staples.

It can also be dressed up for a special occasion. This past Valentine’s Day, Teo and I made an excursion to a Japanese market for pristine sushi-grade fish and glistening salmon roe, then stopped by our neighborhood grocery store for a ripe avocado and a box of microgreens. That evening, we built fancy hand rolls at home, starting with a fresh batch of sushi rice in our beloved rice cooker. But really, those special additions only gilded the lily. The heart of the meal remained the same: nori, rice, and fish.

This meal works just as well for date nights and dinner parties as it does for evenings when your energy is low and your refrigerator nearly empty. A few pantry staples, a flexible assortment of toppings, and dinner is done.

Let’s break it down…

Nori
Buy it at a Japanese market if you can. Some grocery stores, like Trader Joe’s, carry roasted seaweed snacks, which work in a pinch. The difference is that seaweed snacks are made with thinner sheets of nori and are lightly oiled and roasted, leading to a delicious crunchy snack, but something that’s less flexible and well-suited to filling and rolling than nori. Another benefit of nori is that it comes in larger sheets that you can cut with kitchen scissors into your ideal size.

Rice
Sushi rice is what you want for this meal: short-grain rice with a sticky texture that’s easy to scoop and roll. I make it in a rice cooker because it’s effortless and comes out perfectly every time, but a pot works as well. Once it’s cooked, I like to season it with a splash of seasoned rice vinegar and (untraditionally) a small pat of salted butter.

Fish
Tinned fish works beautifully here. Sardines, salmon, trout, tuna — whatever appeals to you. If you’d like a little more punch, mix it with a squeeze of mayonnaise and a drizzle of sriracha or chili oil. If you’re feeling fancy — and if you’re lucky enough to live near a Japanese market or fishmonger — sushi-grade fish is a special upgrade.

Toppings
Use whatever you have on hand or can easily pick up: avocado slices, microgreens, thinly sliced scallions, pickled ginger, kimchi, cucumber matchsticks, toasted sesame seeds, or crispy shallots.

You could certainly turn all of this into a rice bowl, but I prefer to eat it hand-roll style. Lay a half sheet of nori on your plate, add a spoonful of rice, fish, and toppings, then fold it around itself into a rough little taco (see below for a demonstration).

Eat immediately, while the nori is crisp and the rice is still warm. To me, it tastes better and fresher than takeout sushi — probably because the contrast between warm rice and crisp nori is still intact.

Much love and more soon!
Phoebe

Daytime excursions for food and drink — be it a full-on diner breakfast, a sandwich, or a cup of coffee — act as exclamation points punctuating otherwise ordinary days. Today’s list of recommendations is a continuation of last month’s Brooklyn restaurant guide. What follows is a collection of my New York City daytime favorites: bakeries, coffee shops, lunch counters, and more.

New York City Daytime Spots

In no particular order besides when they popped into my head while writing this…

Little Egg
For a sit-down brunch in Brooklyn, you can’t do much better than Little Egg in Prospect Heights. As the name suggests, the menu features plenty of well-executed egg dishes, including the egg katsu sando, built around a panko-crusted steamed egg patty (!!), and the Eggs Rothko, a color-blocked take on the British classic toad-in-the-hole. Just as important, though, is ordering at least one pastry. The pastry program is led by Tanya Bush, and I’ve never had anything from it that missed the mark.

Barker Cafeteria
Barker is one of the new places in New York I’m most excited about, in any category — full stop. It’s a warm, casual lunch counter in Bed-Stuy serving exceptional food, like the herby chicken noodle soup, which comes with a ramekin of chili paste so you can make it as spicy as you like, and the sweet potato sandwich with roasted onion mayonnaise, bitter chicories, and fresh zhug. The oversized glazed apple fritter is wonderful, too, studded with soft chunks of apple throughout. Co-owner (who is also a beautiful writer) publishes a Substack with dispatches from Barker, menu updates, and other reflections. It’s worth reading for her prose alone.

Court Street Grocers
An outstanding sandwich shop that I’m lucky to have in the neighborhood. My local spot is the original Carroll Gardens location, though there are also outposts in Greenwich Village and Williamsburg. Everyone seems to have their go-to Court Street Grocers order, but the consensus favorite is probably the Vegetalian — the sandwich that Helen Rosner once declared New York’s finest.

S&P Lunch
S&P is a classic New York City luncheonette from the Court Street Grocers team, housed in the former Eisenberg’s Sandwich Shop and retaining much of its original character. The menu is exactly what you’d hope to find in a place like this: pancakes, tuna melts, grilled cheeses, patty melts, and other staples. It’s fabulous.

Elbow Bread
My final mention of the Court Street Grocers empire is Elbow Bread, the Lower East Side bakery they opened in collaboration with baker Zoë Kanan. I’ve tried several pastries from Elbow — many with Jewish influences, including babka knots, challah buns, and rugelach — and have been impressed every time. My Big Night coworker Eva also recently raved about the EBBB, a sandwich on sourdough black bread with crispy walnut butter, cream cheese, and dates. Must try.

Poppy’s
A reliable, popular neighborhood café in Cobble Hill and Brooklyn Heights. I love their drip coffee, their egg sandwich with chili aioli and arugula, and their perfect corn muffin.

Un Posto Italiano
A slice of Italy in Park Slope. I like to get a cappuccino and a mortadella-and-artichoke sandwich on pizza bianca and pretend, for however long I’m there, that I’m in Rome.

Liz’s Book Bar
Liz’s Book Bar is a beloved community space in Carroll Gardens — part bookstore, part coffee shop, and part bar. My favorite time to visit is in the morning for a writing session. The coffee is strong, the Wi-Fi is fast, and the atmosphere is inclusive and friendly.

Brooklyn Granary & Mill
Teo and I are both regulars at Brooklyn Granary & Mill in Gowanus, which is dedicated to showcasing grains from the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic. There’s a mill upstairs and a bakery downstairs, where you can sample pastries made with the very grains milled above. The staff is welcoming and kind, which makes every visit a pleasure. Read more of my thoughts on Brooklyn Granary & Mill here.

L’Appartement 4F
L’Appartement 4F is a French bakery with locations in Brooklyn Heights and the West Village. As an Instagram darling (said with love!!), it can get a little mobbed, and the lines can be annoying. But the bread and pastries are divine, and I’m so glad it exists. I suggest starting with the classics: a baguette and a croissant.

Agi’s Counter
The owner of Agi’s Counter, Jeremy Salamon, recently announced that the restaurant will be closing soon (at least for now). To avoid confusing anyone, I won’t include it on the Google Map, but I have to mention it here for posterity — and in the hope that it reopens somewhere soon. Agi’s is a magical spot in Crown Heights, with a menu inspired by Jeremy’s Jewish and Eastern European heritage. It serves one of the city’s most memorable breakfasts and lunches (I never made it there for dinner, though I suspect it’s fantastic as well). I dream of the palacsinta (Hungarian crêpes) and the lemony New York–style cheesecake.

Breakfast by Salt’s Cure
I’m continually impressed by this dialed-in operation, which quietly does a tremendous amount of business with a streamlined menu anchored by its oatmeal griddle cakes. There are locations in the West Village, Carroll Gardens, and Prospect Heights, along with two outposts in California.

Ciao, Gloria
A Prospect Heights staple for coffee and pastries. The atmosphere is lively without feeling chaotic, and when I lived in the neighborhood I was hooked on the espresso granita.

Bánh by Lauren
A Vietnamese-American bakery in Two Bridges with gorgeous, just-sweet-enough pastries and coffee drinks. You can also pre-order chiffon cakes with flavors like Vietnamese coffee and pandan coconut for birthdays and other celebrations!

Welcome Home
A newish bakery in Bed-Stuy from two L’Appartement 4F alums. I’ve only been once, but I found it cozy, welcoming (naturally), and unpretentious, with excellent pastries. Sara and I met there one morning, sat at a sun-drenched table, and shared a generously frosted cinnamon roll the size of my face. It rocked.

Radio Bakery
An always-busy, much-loved bakery with locations in Greenpoint and Prospect Heights. While the pastries are the main attraction, I’m often most excited about the sandwiches, especially the ham and rosemary butter on sesame stirato and the spicy tofu sandwich with sesame-scallion sauce, shaved cabbage, and chili crisp.

La Cabra
New York City is blessed to have three locations of this Danish bakery and coffee roastery: Bushwick (home to the actual roastery), SoHo, and the East Village. I most often find myself at the SoHo location when I’m running errands nearby. I’ve never had a bad pastry or coffee at any of the locations — in fact, they’re always excellent. My usual order is a cappuccino and a cardamom bun, if only for the Danish novelty of it all.

Otway Bakery
Dare I say that Otway Bakery has my favorite pastries in all of New York?? There, I said it. I love the ham and cheese croissant, which has a healthy spread of grainy mustard. I’m also a fan of the classic plain croissant, the pain au chocolat, and the sausage roll. I went a lot more often when I lived in Prospect Heights, but I still make my way there from time to time. Picking up a box of Otway pastries for a park hang with friends is my dream day.

ACQ Bread Co.
A quirky Carroll Gardens bakery that produces some of my favorite loaves in the city. The Clinton Street bakery is only open from 4-7 pm on Fridays and Saturdays, a schedule that somehow never sticks in my brain, so I usually find it easier to track down their bread at the Carroll Gardens Greenmarket on Sunday mornings.

Cafe Mado
An all-day café in Prospect Heights from the Place des Fêtes team, with an elegant, seasonal menu. It’s the perfect place to take your parents before or after a walk through Prospect Park.

Sey Coffee
A destination for coffee nerds and one of the city’s most respected coffee roasters, tucked away in East Williamsburg.

Bagel Bob’s
Bagel Bob’s is Teo’s childhood bagel shop on University Place in Greenwich Village, where he and his twin brother used to stop for breakfast on their way to school. It’s a classic, no-frills spot serving fresh New York City bagels. Nothing fancy — just consistently good.

Apollo Bagels
Apollo is my favorite of the new-wave New York bagel spots I’ve tried. The menu is streamlined and focused on only the good stuff (read: no birthday cake cream cheese at Apollo). The bagels have an airy sourdough crumb, a crisp crust, and are served open-faced. Apollo now has several locations throughout the city, but my go-to remains the original in the East Village.

Hani’s Bakery & Café
This East Village bakery specializes in comforting, modern American baked goods. Go with friends so you can sample as many pastries as possible. The malted cinnamon bun is a thing of beauty.

Buvette
A tiny, stylish French restaurant in the West Village. While it’s open for dinner as well, I like it best for brunch, and I think it’s one of the most inviting places in the city to dine alone. My order is a croque madame.

Thai Diner
For some reason, I’ve only ever been to Thai Diner in Nolita for lunch, but I think it’s such a perfect daytime spot that I don’t feel any urgency to make it there for dinner. I love the roti egg sandwich and the Thai tea French toast, which is served with salty condensed milk.

Barney Greengrass
Barney Greengrass is an Upper West Side Jewish deli and New York institution where I often took visitors when I was a student at Barnard. It’s essential to order some kind of smoked fish while you’re there — they rightfully take particular pride in their smoked sturgeon.

La Bicyclette
La Bicyclette is a French bakery that makes a near-perfect $2 baguette, which is my usual reason for stopping by, but the pastries and baguette sandwiches are lovely, too. In addition to my local bakery in Carroll Gardens, there are locations in Williamsburg, Fort Greene, and Clinton Hill.

Daily Provisions
Daily Provisions, part of the Danny Meyer empire, has been a favorite of mine since I first moved to New York in 2017. Despite all the expansion it’s undergone, I think it’s maintained remarkably high standards, and I’m glad to have locations scattered across the city. The cruller remains a forever favorite, and I love that they brew Joe Coffee — another nostalgic touch that reminds me of my early days in New York, since Joe was my college coffee shop.

Villager
Beautifully executed coffee in Crown Heights — a must-stop whenever we’re in the area.

Win Son Bakery
A playful Taiwanese-American bakery with locations in East Williamsburg and the East Village. Come for the epic bacon, egg, and cheese on a scallion pancake; stay for the gloriously chewy mochi donut.

Cobble Hill Coffee Shop
After all these years, I’ve yet to fall madly in love with a classic New York City diner (in my experience, the best ones are in the suburbs). However, I frequent them anyway because I love what diners represent. I love the bottomless coffee that leaves you slightly jittery, the kitschy wall decor, the comfy, well-worn booths, and the fluffy, oversized pancakes. Cobble Hill Coffee Shop is my local diner, and I’m very fond of it. I love that every customer gets a complimentary shot of freshly squeezed orange juice, that the food is perfectly fine and not much better than that, and that it feels like the entire neighborhood eats there.

Some places at the top of my list to try…
Hellbender
Salty Lunch Lady’s Little Luncheonette
Vato
2788 Bagels (offshoot of my now-closed college bagel spot, Absolute Bagels)

As I said with my list of Brooklyn restaurants, I’m sure I’ll remember several favorites the moment I click “publish: — but here I go, clicking “publish” anyway. You can find the full list on Google Maps and Rec League, with descriptions included on both.

Cheersing you with my coffee,
Phoebs

I’m proud to consider myself a newly initiated member of the Knicks fan club. Sure, call me a bandwagoner. Yes, my understanding of the rules is hazy. My love for this team may be new, but it is TRUE! As of yesterday, I own a Knicks hat that says “2026 Finals” on it, and I’m acutely aware that it may one day be VERY VALUABLE. I’m meeting up with friends to watch the games, complaining about the refs, and developing increasingly irrational superstitions. Last night, I determined that blue shoes were lucky, and then OG won the game wearing blue shoes. A coincidence? I think not.

The best and most powerful times to live in New York are when it feels like everyone is rallying around something (one reason I love the NYC Marathon so much), and this Knicks fandom feels exactly like that. A couple of friends came over yesterday to eat roast chicken, drink beer, and watch the game. Later, we realized our livestream was a few seconds behind. As the game was winding down and we were still waiting to see the final possession, we heard shrieks erupt from the bar down the street. Bel and I locked eyes, “Those were good shrieks, right?”

Thankfully, they were.

How, you may ask, am I going to pivot from a recap of my Knicks-watching experience to a tofu recipe? Simple: life is feeling extraordinarily big and social right now, and I’m grateful for all of it, but sometimes you need to reel it back in and eat a vegetable or two. This is a recipe to make when your body wants vegetables but also comfort, when you’ve been running around the city and need to eat something grounding, and when it’s time to be practical and actually pack your work lunches for once.

Noodle salads are perfect for this purpose. There are two reasons why: first, I always want noodles; second, they’re an ideal vehicle for all kinds of vegetables and herbs. All you need is a flavorful sauce to tie everything together. It could be peanut sauce, sesame sauce, or something else entirely. This time, I went with a lemony miso-sesame dressing I adapted from a Samin Nosrat recipe that apparently inspired her latest cookbook, Good Things. I can understand why: it’s balanced and creamy, with a mouth-puckering lemony punch.

This saucy noodle salad is satisfying enough on its own, but if you want something alongside it, I recommend sesame-crusted tofu, pan-fried until golden brown and crisp. I’m often underwhelmed by tofu recipes that promise crispiness; unless you deep-fry it, tofu rarely gets as crunchy as I want it to. The secret here is a coating of sesame seeds and cornstarch, which creates an ultra-crispy crust without much fuss. No deep-frying required.

Bright, fresh, and endlessly adaptable, this is one of the easiest ways I know to turn tofu and vegetables into a meal I genuinely crave. As a bonus, it’s vegetarian — and can easily be made vegan by swapping the honey for maple syrup.

P.S. Knicks in five.

Lemony Sesame Noodles with Crispy Tofu

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Claire and Pat also prioritized food at the wedding, choosing a venue with a stellar open-fire food program, which reminded me of ’s New York Times article about open-fire cooking at weddings. They also (conveniently for me) hosted the weekend in one of my favorite towns for food and drink. In between wedding events, I took advantage of being in Hudson and snuck in a meal at Doves Diner, bagels at Circles, drinks at the newly opened (and wonderfully weird) wine bar Merkin, and two stops at Mel the Bakery, one of the great bakeries in all of New York State.

Today I’m sharing a few sweet somethings: a new cookbook store I’m shouting about from the rooftops, details on the darling hotel where we stayed over the weekend, and a meal at Dean’s, fueled by Guinness on tap.

Sweet Somethings

Wild Sorrel Cookbooks

I first learned about Wild Sorrel in January from Teo’s brother Nico, who told me that Troy Chatterton — previously the manager of Three Lives in the West Village, where Nico once worked — was raising money on Kickstarter to open a cookbook shop. Between Nico’s glowing endorsement of Troy and my own love of cookbooks, I immediately chipped in and sent the link to food-loving friends I knew would be excited about the opening. It’s been really sweet to watch food people from all over New York (and beyond!) rally around Troy to support the shop. As my friend says, “Cookbook people are the best people.”

Fast forward to April, and Wild Sorrel now exists! It occupies a petite East Village space and is every bit as lovely as I imagined it would be. I’ve only been once so far, but I can’t wait to go back and make it a regular Manhattan stop. During my visit, Troy and I bonded over our shared obsession with Chez Panisse and the River Café, and the simple, ingredient-driven approach to cooking that both places champion. Fellow Chez Panisse enthusiasts will immediately recognize Alice Waters’s influence within the store, from the carefully chosen cookbook selection to the overall feeling of curiosity the space cultivates. I especially loved browsing the section devoted to British cookbooks, from which I brought home two treasures: the original River Café book and the Towpath cookbook.

My cookbook shelf overfloweth, but I can’t help continuing to add to it. I was also delighted to see Maira Kalman books at Wild Sorrel — I consider her my favorite artist and a huge inspiration.

I’ll stop there, but please: go! And tell me what you buy. Sign up for the newsletter here, if you’d like.

Rivertown Lodge

Over the wedding weekend in Hudson, we had the pleasure of staying at Rivertown Lodge, a renovated movie-theater-turned-hotel. Based on the website, I knew it would be charming, but I didn’t realize quite how much I’d love the design and overall sensibility of the place. I found myself taking lots of photos and mental notes of little details, bookmarking them for future design inspiration. (My research led me to discover that Brooklyn-based agency Workstead is behind the design, so I’m excited to look into more of their work.)

I loved the layering of different woods and textures throughout the space, as well as the thoughtful incorporation of color: deep yellow cupboards, leaf-green lounge chairs, faded red carpeting, matte black and earthy neutrals woven throughout. There were two working woodstoves in the lobby, and one morning when I went down for coffee, I became fixated on the contrast between the orangey blaze of the fire and a vase of airy pink blooms nearby — a combination that felt perfectly evocative of a chilly late-May weekend in the Hudson Valley.

The details throughout the hotel made it feel personal and considered: a gorgeous wraparound cherrywood front desk, an updated version of the old movie theater sign outside, a board of local recommendations in the entryway, and excellent Tandem coffee freshly brewed and available downstairs every morning. It managed to feel stylish but not self-conscious, which I imagine is a tricky balance to strike. I highly recommend staying there if you get the chance.

Dean’s

Dean’s is the latest opening from the King team: a Manhattan-style British pub, located right next door to King in SoHo. I managed to snag a table for myself and a couple friends thanks to my friend Megan — a former line cook colleague of mine who now cooks there — and it ended up being an unsurprisingly spot-hitting meal.

We ordered admirably well, if I do say so myself: oysters to start, quail Scotch eggs, curried coronation salad, fish and chips, and ginger pudding to finish. We each had a cocktail — two carrot margaritas and one cucumber gimlet — before switching to Guinness alongside dessert, which felt essential to the experience.

The pudding was particularly memorable: squidgy cake topped with sticky candied ginger syrup, sitting in a pool of warm vanilla custard. Brits really know how to nail the hot-cake-cold-cream dynamic. See also: Cafe Cecilia’s deep-fried bread-and-butter pudding with cold custard, a dessert I think about at least once a week.

What I loved most about Dean’s was the combination of comforting British pub food with the precision and care you’d expect from the King team. We ate there early in the evening before heading to the theater, and the space buzzed in that perfect downtown way: packed booths, ice-cold cocktails everywhere, people just happy to be there. I have no doubt it’s a place that people will fold naturally into their routines after the initial excitement settles.

An update to my recent post about spring/summer reads: I finished The Things We Never Say and loved loved loved it so much (even though it made me cry). My dad and my younger brother Malcolm are both reading it now, and I gave my sister-in-law my copy so she can read it too. Family book club!

As always, I welcome your comments, recommendations, and observations.

More soon,
Phoebs

My recommendations remain mostly Brooklyn- and Manhattan-centric — the two boroughs I’ve lived in over the course of my New York tenure — with a few outliers. These are places I can recommend with my full chest, whether I’ve visited them multiple times myself or been at least once and had trusted food friends vouch for.

People often ask me for New York City restaurant recommendations, and I’m always happy to share them, but it’s far easier to put together an updated list to send along whenever someone asks where they should eat.

Today we’re tackling a big one: Brooklyn restaurants. My favorite borough — for living, eating, and everything in between. This is a highly personal and not-at-all-exhaustive list — just the places I’ve dined at, loved, and would happily recommend to anyone.

Brooklyn Restaurants

In no particular order besides when they popped into my head while writing this…

Roman’s
Chic, understated Italian food in Fort Greene, equally well-suited to solo bar dinners and special occasions. Get a cocktail, at least one pasta, and the fava bean purée: velvety and mellow, topped with bitter greens and olive oil, served with She Wolf bread.

Hart’s
A perfect 30-seat restaurant in Bed-Stuy, inspired by the Mediterranean coast. (Completely unbiased, of course). Lots of seafood, olive oil, herbs, and natural wine. Fantastic staff. The clam toast is a must.

F&F Restaurant and Bar
The sit-down sister to F&F Pizzeria, a fantastic slice shop. The shared name is admittedly confusing, especially since they’re on the same block, but this F&F is all about seasonal wood-fired pizzas and vegetable dishes. It’s become our go-to neighborhood date night spot, and our typical order is a guanciale and leek pie plus something fresh and seasonal, like a puntarelle or snow pea salad.

Café Kestrel
An enchanting little bistro in Red Hook, where Teo and I had one of my favorite meals of the last few years, which I wrote about here. I love that the menu includes chic dishes like seafood terrine and farinata with olives, but also French fries and the best mac and cheese of my life. Come for date night, split a bottle of wine, and eat well.

Café Brume
An Alpine restaurant in Brooklyn Heights. We’ve somehow been seated at the same little window table every time we’ve gone, so now it feels spiritually assigned to us. Perfect in winter or on a rainy day when all you want is a crispy schnitzel and a glass of wine. For more on Café Brume, read my write-up for , linked here.

Bar Bête
The definition of a classy neighborhood spot, with minimalist design, smooth service, and a French-inspired menu that changes frequently. I’ve had and loved the oysters with chili oil, tuna toast, and leeks vinaigrette. The yellow cake is worth ordering, both for the nostalgic birthday-cake flavor and the dramatic swoosh of chocolate frosting.

La Vara
Elegant, understated Spanish food in one of my favorite parts of Brooklyn, right along Cobble Hill Park. I love the octopus carpaccio and the slow-roasted suckling pig with chimichurri, and if you’re an anchovy fan, start with the Cantabrian anchovies and butter.

The Fly
Sister restaurant/bar of Hart’s. They serve rotisserie chicken and natural wine, and that’s pretty much it. My go-to spot for a last-minute, affordable group dinner. Also great for birthdays.

Frankies 457 Spuntino
A Court Street institution with a spacious backyard, cozy Italian food, and welcoming neighborhood vibes. Whatever you do, don’t skip the cavatelli with hot sausage and browned sage butter, one of the most delightful dishes to ever grace Brooklyn.

Bernie’s
American comfort food in Greenpoint. I avoided it for a while because it felt less exciting than trying a new cuisine, but eventually I accepted the truth: when you’re in the right mood, mozzarella sticks, shrimp cocktail, burgers, and martinis with friends is an unbeatable formula.

Cozy Royale
Another ideal place to hunker down with friends over stiff drinks and cheeseburgers. If you can get the dry-aged burger with raclette and arugula, do it.

Chez Ma Tante
Simple, well-executed bistro food in Greenpoint. Think chicken milanese, pork shoulder with salsa verde and lentils, fries (excuse me, “chips”) and aioli, and a crisp little gem salad.

Leo
Tried-and-true sourdough pizzeria in Williamsburg. I’ve never had the soft serve, but it looks phenomenal, so maybe order that after you’ve had your fill of pizza.

The Four Horsemen
An intimate, much-acclaimed wine bar and restaurant that’s worth the reservation struggle. You’re basically guaranteed to have a perfect meal. On my first visit, my friend Bel and I walked in right when they opened at 11 a.m. and gleefully ate tartare and boudin blanc before noon.

Sawa
A Park Slope gem with an elegant but easygoing atmosphere and beautiful Lebanese food. Order whatever is seasonal, plus plenty of dips with fresh pita, and spend some time with the Lebanese wine list. Read more about my experience at Sawa here.

Sofreh
A stylish, elevated restaurant in Prospect Heights serving Persian food. A very worthy destination for special occasions. The team will take beautiful care of you.

Eyval
Sofreh’s sister restaurant in Bushwick, with a similar style and spirit, though maybe a bit younger and less serious in vibe.

Ops
Natural wine and sourdough pizza in Bushwick (now with an East Village location as well). Beloved by the restaurant industry for good reason. Get the Cicero, charmingly described as “with many onions,” and ask the servers to help you pick a bottle.

Untable
Absurdly delicious, creative Thai dishes on a quiet block in Carroll Gardens. The crab croquettes topped with crispy lemongrass are a particular favorite, and their kao-soi is the best I’ve ever had.

Hungry Thirsty
When Ugly Baby closed in 2023, former staff took over the Carroll Gardens space and opened Hungry Thirsty. While different in some ways, it still satisfies the craving for fiery Thai food. Prepare to sweat, cry, and surprise yourself by continuing to eat (and enjoy!) incomprehensibly spicy dishes. Wash it all down with a cold beer. Come here on a first date only if you’re comfortable dissolving into puddles together.

Mariscos El Submarino
Mexican seafood, beer, and a casual, happy atmosphere. There are a few locations across the city, but the one I’ve been to is in Clinton Hill, which has a big back patio that’s ideal for large groups and warm weather dinners.

Fradei
This petite subterranean restaurant in Fort Greene occupies a similar place in my heart as Cafe Kestrel does: intimate, romantic, and perfect for a quiet date night with sophisticated food and wine. While the menu leans French, I’ve had some extraordinary pastas here.

Strange Delight
New Orleans-inspired seafood restaurant in Fort Greene. On my last visit, the chargrilled oysters and the hush puppies rocked my world, and trusted sources swear that the cocktails are on another plane.

Sailor
I’m struggling to write this description because all I really want to say is: IT’S GOOD, AND YOU SHOULD GO. This Fort Greene bistro serves inventive dishes alongside classics like Caesar salad and roast chicken, all executed at the highest level. The vaguely maritime theme means plenty of seafood, but more than anything, it’s just an excellent restaurant.

Đi Ăn Đi
One of my favorite Vietnamese restaurants in the city, tucked away in Greenpoint. The food is fresh, herbaceous, modern, and consistently excellent.

Diner
Founded on New Year’s Eve, 1998, Diner is older than I am — a Brooklyn establishment at the forefront of farm-to-table cuisine in New York City. It’s a Williamsburg classic in a refurbished dining car, and the food is reliably satisfying, whether you’re trying something new to the menu or sticking with the classic burger with white cheddar and pickled red onions.

Some places at the top of my list to try…
Theodora
Lucali (mostly out of curiosity — and proximity)
Bong
Border Town
I Cavallini

I’m sure I’ll think of 10 more places immediately after publishing this article. But these are the Brooklyn restaurants I love: the ones I return to often and that I recommend without hesitation. For your convenience, I compiled the above list here on Google Maps, with descriptions included.

I also added the list to Rec League, an extremely fun app for sharing and cataloging recommendations that I discovered through .

More lists coming soon: non-Brooklyn restaurants, bars, and daytime spots.

Thank you for reading and happy eating,
x Phoebs

Today, I’m sharing recipes for my favorite pasta: spaghetti with clams, two ways. One version uses fresh clams, and the other relies on canned clams, which deserve far more respect than they usually get. Both are surprisingly easy, especially considering the elegance of the result.

Spaghetti with Clams, 2 Ways

If I were hard-pressed to choose a favorite food, it would be spaghetti with clams. And if I were really pressed for details, it would be eaten in Rome, at a sunny outdoor table with a glass of white wine nearby. I think it’s the most beautiful dish: the tangle of noodles, the ridged clam shells interspersed, the glossy sauce. That’s not to mention the taste: the oceanic brine of the clams themselves, the sautéed, mellowed garlic, the suggestion of heat from chili flakes, the silky, starchy noodles. Food writer Nigel Slater once wrote that “nothing is as glam as a clam,” and I have to agree.

It’s funny, though, because clams don’t exactly have a glamorous origin story. They’re buried in mud and wet sand, harvested with rakes or shovels from the ocean floor. They’re mollusks (not the sexiest word in the English language), and they live very simple lives, quietly filtering water and minding their own business. And yet spaghetti with clams somehow has the effortless glamour of an off-duty model on an Amalfi holiday. Go figure.

Conveniently, I love cooking spaghetti with clams almost as much as I love eating it — warming garlic in olive oil, hitting the pan with a splash of wine, watching and listening as the clams begin to open one by one with gentle clicks and muffled pops. Tasting the broth is also a highlight, noticing as the clam liquor, white wine, and garlic-infused olive oil gradually merge into their own thing altogether: briny and rich.

I’m writing this on a hot day, which is the best sort of day for spaghetti with clams, despite the fact that it requires standing over a stove. It’s a beachy dish, meant for beachy heat. You may not be at a sunny outdoor table in Rome, but you can embrace the warmth wherever you are. Go out to buy some littleneck clams, and come home to make something special.

The exception to the hot-weather rule, in my book, is spaghetti with canned clams. Fresh clams belong to vacations, seaside restaurants, and long, warm evenings. The canned stuff, on the other hand, belongs to any old Tuesday throughout the year when you’re craving the feeling of summer. Canned clams are a practical pantry product, less tied to a coastal fantasy; after all, it’s a lot less elegant to open a tin than it is to tumble a pile of fresh clams into a skillet. In the context of spaghetti, though, canned clams absolutely do the trick, still delivering the oceanic brine you’re after.

Since both versions have their place on my plate and in my heart, I’m sharing two recipes today.

The Recipes

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The other day, I was feeling particularly uninspired about what to read when I received the best possible news: my favorite author, Elizabeth Strout, had released a new book. It was like not knowing what you want to eat, then being handed exactly what you didn’t know you desperately wanted.

Startled by my own ignorance (if I didn’t know that THE Elizabeth Strout had come out with a book, what else don’t I know?!), I started a list of new (or new-ish) books I’m excited to read this season. While oldies, of course, have their place, it’s fun to read the books of the moment, when everyone else is reading them as well. I feel like I’m in an unofficial nationwide book club when I can gab about the New York Times bestsellers with just about anyone.

So here’s that list of books, along with a few notes about why they’re calling my name.

My Spring/Summer 2026 Reading List

The Things We Never Say by Elizabeth Strout

Release Date: May 5, 2026

Strout’s writing is observant, quiet, and emotionally precise, and I always finish her books feeling like I really understand the characters — a quality I treasure in a book. I’m really looking forward to getting to know the new cast of characters she introduces in The Things We Never Say.

On Witness and Respair by Jesmyn Ward

Release Date: May 19, 2026

Ward’s novel Sing, Unburied, Sing is one of the all-time great novels, as far as I’m concerned, so I was excited to see that she has a new release coming soon. This one is a collection of personal essays, and I already know I’ll be reading it with a pencil in hand.

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

Release Date: April 7, 2026

A novel about a “tradwife” influencer suddenly confronted with the realities of the past she romanticizes online? Consider me intrigued.

Whistler by Ann Patchett

Release Date: June 2, 2026

Ann Patchett is a national treasure, and her upcoming novel follows a woman reconnecting with her former stepfather decades later. It sounds intimate, reflective, and exactly like the kind of emotionally layered book I’m drawn to.

Against Breaking by Ada Limón

Release Date: April 7, 2026

A book about the power of poetry, written by one of our country’s most adored poets, Ada Limón. I love poetry and believe in its ability to sustain us, so I already know this one will resonate.

The Keeper by Tana French

Release Date: March 31, 2026

I’ve read every Tana French book except this one, so it’s time to close the loop. She writes sharp, psychologically complex mysteries set in Ireland, and The Keeper is the third and final installment in the Cal Hooper series.

American Fantasy by Emma Straub

Release Date: April 7, 2026

is the co-owner of my local bookstore, Books Are Magic, and a fantastic novelist in her own right. Her latest is about a middle-aged woman on a boy-band cruise, and it sounds like PURE FUN to me.

Lady Tremaine by Rachel Hochhauser

Release Date: March 3, 2026

A Cinderella retelling from the stepmother’s perspective, portraying her as a struggling mother. Such a clever and compelling idea. I’ve been meaning to read this ever since it came out in March, and I’m excited to finally get to it.

The Kitchen Book by Ella Risbridger

Release Date: May 21, 2026

This is a U.K. release, so I’m not quite sure when I’ll be able to get my hands on it, but trust me: I will. ’s voice is warm and funny, and I love the way she writes about home cooking as part of the larger experience of being alive.

Have you read any of these yet? Anything I should add? I welcome your comments and responses.

Much love,
Phoebe

P.S. I’m really enjoying ’s series on Substack Notes celebrating book cover designers. A great book cover is a powerful thing!

A Love Letter to Ricotta

When I studied abroad in Bologna, I lived in an apartment directly across from a small bakery that specialized in southern Italian pastries. Early into the semester, I stopped in and ordered a pasticciotto alla ricotta, a Puglian pastry I’d never heard of, with a buttery, flaky crust and creamy center. It was oval-shaped, with a domed top and tapered edge — and just the right size for breakfast. Above all, what I loved about this pasticciotto was its ricotta filling, which wasn’t overly masked by other flavors besides a tinge of citrus zest (lemon, maybe, or orange). It just tasted like ricotta — the good kind — milky-sweet and rich. This is what I craved, morning after morning after morning. I wish I kept a count of how many times I had that exact breakfast, with a cappuccino, gradually becoming less nervous to place my order in Italian as the semester progressed, and as the staff committed it to memory.

Ricotta (meaning “re-cooked” in Italian) is traditionally made from the whey left over after producing other cheeses, though modern versions are often made with whole milk and cream as well. The mixture is heated and combined with an acid such as lemon juice or vinegar, which coagulates the proteins and forms a soft cheese with delicate curds. Unlike aged cheeses, ricotta is fresh, mild, and subtly sweet.

Its origins are unclear, but early versions are thought to have been made in Sicily during the centuries when the island was part of Magna Graecia, the network of Greek colonies spread across southern Italy. Sicily’s long tradition of raising sheep and goats, especially in its rugged mountain regions, made it a natural center for early cheesemaking, and historians believe Greek settlers may have introduced or improved upon techniques for preserving milk and reheating leftover whey.

In Book 9 of The Odyssey, Homer describes Odysseus encountering the Cyclops Polyphemus in a cave filled with baskets of cheese, curdled milk set aside in pails, and pens of sheep and goats. Some modern culinary historians speculate that the cheese described may have resembled fresh ricotta or another early whey cheese. While there’s no direct evidence linking Homer’s account to ricotta itself, the passage suggests that the practice of reheating whey to create a fresh, soft cheese dates back thousands of years.

Today, southern Italy remains famous for its ricotta, used in both savory and sweet dishes alike. It’s folded into pasta, stuffed into ravioli, arancini, and cannoli, or (and this is the version I’d most like to try) served ultra-fresh and still warm in a bowl with crusty bread. It’s a breakfast soup of sorts: somewhere between savory and sweet. This Sicilian tradition is known as zabbina, the hot whey-rich ricotta served immediately after production, before it fully sets, and sopped up with bread.

While Sicilian shepherding culture is not my own, I did grow up with some familiarity of East Coast Italian Americana. Throughout my youth, I visited an Italian American bakery, Mike’s Pastry, in Boston’s North End on the occasional family trip into the city. Mike’s is a goldmine of ricotta-based desserts, but I always went straight for the classic chocolate chip cannoli — shells bursting with smooth, luscious ricotta and dipped in mini chocolate chips at both ends. Inspired by this memory, I attempted homemade chocolate chip cannoli last year, with a little orange zest and vanilla whipped into the ricotta. It was a great success.

Now, I’m lucky to live in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, a neighborhood with a strong (though sadly diminishing) Italian-American identity, and a great food scene. I never take for granted the luxury of being able to stop into Caputo’s Fine Foods on a whim and walk out with a container of fresh ricotta.

It was at Hart’s, the Bed-Stuy restaurant where I once worked as a line cook, where I really fell in love with fresh ricotta. At Hart’s, they make ricotta every day and serve it with pizza bianca and whatever seasonal produce the chef feels inspired to serve it with — confit garlic, marinated mushrooms, braised green onions. There, in the basement kitchen, I stood over many a pot of bubbling milk, gradually heating, eventually curdling, and releasing a milky-sweet aroma. My central revelation about ricotta was that it’s not just a filler ingredient but something fresh, with its own distinct flavor, and worth appreciating on its own.

But lest you think otherwise, I don’t turn my nose at a tub of supermarket ricotta either. In fact, this is the ricotta I live with most often — Calabro, when I can find it. I buy it with no particular plan in mind, which isn’t a problem because it nearly always finds one for itself. Ricotta (supermarket or fresh) can be dolloped onto pasta, folded into pancake batter, mixed into meatballs, whipped and layered onto toast or crostini, and on and on. It’s a useful ingredient, improving whatever it touches and seamlessly threading itself into a week of meals. A few of my favorite ricotta recipes are Julia Turshen’s turkey and ricotta meatballs, Genevieve Ko’s lemon ricotta pancakes, and Deb Perelman’s zucchini and ricotta galette, if you’re seeking inspiration.

I also love supermarket ricotta in cakes. For a forgiving everyday cake, ricotta is the answer, yielding a soft, hydrated cake with a tender crumb. So for paid subscribers today, I’m sharing a ricotta chocolate chip cake. There’s a little orange zest in the batter — which makes it reminiscent of my homemade cannoli. I like it best for breakfast with coffee.

Ricotta-Chocolate Chip Cake

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An April Menu

I bought lamb rib chops for the first time the other day at our local butcher shop, The Meat Hook. I hadn’t gone in looking for lamb, or for anything in particular, but they caught my eye right away — small and tidy, with ruby-red meat and pearly, opaque rims of fat. I bought four without much of a plan besides knowing that I had salt, pepper, rosemary, and garlic at home — which is all lamb really needs.

Back in my kitchen, I unwrapped the chops and did a little reading, standing at the counter with my phone propped up against the pepper grinder. Rib chops, it turns out, are just slices from a rack of lamb, each one with its own little bone. “Lamb lollipops,” some people call them, which I don’t love; something about equating lamb’s deep, savory flavor with candy feels off-putting. But name aside, the appeal of the cut remained.

I kept it simple. First, I seasoned the chops with salt and pepper and let them sit while I stripped rosemary leaves from their stems, rubbing them between my fingers to release their sharp, green scent before finely chopping them. I grated a few cloves of garlic on a Microplane until they were almost a paste, sticky and strong.

Then I rubbed the rosemary and garlic all over the chops, working it in with my hands, and slipped everything into a plastic bag with a glug of olive oil. I pressed out the air, sealed it, and turned it over a few times — nothing elegant, just a bit of shifting and squelching — until the meat was well-coated. It went into the refrigerator for an hour or so, just long enough for the flavors to settle in.

At that point, I had time to clean up and start a side dish — preserved lemon roast potatoes, inspired by a recipe I found by the brilliant Diana Henry. I halved a couple pounds of baby yellow potatoes, tossed them with olive oil, salt, pepper, and a pinch of chili flakes, then slid them into a hot oven. While they roasted, I prepped the rest: preserved lemon, the flesh scraped away and the peel sliced thinly; a little more garlic, finely grated; and a handful of soft herbs (mint, dill, cilantro), roughly picked.

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Today I have a few appreciations to share from an April mostly spent in New York, with a quick Vermont jaunt last week. Mostly food, as you won’t be surprised to know.

1. Oatmeal Pancakes

While in Vermont last week, I riffed on an oatmeal pancake recipe that uses old-fashioned rolled oats soaked in milk as the base of the batter. The soaking softens the oats and gives the pancakes a pleasantly chewy texture — denser than average, but in a way I found satisfying. I folded a bit of vanilla bean paste into the batter and swirled extra butter into the skillet before frying to coax out those crispy golden edges. And, because we were in Vermont, there was plenty of local maple syrup to drizzle (read: pour) over the top. If we’d had any leftovers (we didn’t), I would’ve saved them to toast later — just pop them straight into the toaster — and spread with butter and jam for an easy breakfast in the days that followed.

2. Visiting My Mom’s Classroom

Also while in Vermont, Teo and I made sure to visit my mom’s second-grade classroom to meet her students and colleagues. For as long as she’s been an elementary school teacher, I’ve loved visiting her at work, watching her lead with confidence, and feeling a kinship with her students, knowing we’ve all been lucky enough to be guided by her.

My mom, new to full-time Vermont life, had told me about the Vermont-y things the kids get to experience at their public school, but it was still a wonder to witness firsthand. Snap peas for afternoon snack one day, dragon fruit another. A P.E. program where kids learn to bike and then safely ride around town, many wearing ski helmets instead of bike-specific ones. All of this set against a backdrop of violet mountains.

My mom had me and Teo do a little Q&A, and the kids came up with questions (curiously, mostly sports-related) like, “Do you like the Texas Rangers?” to which I replied, “The Texas what?” This led us to the subject of Teo’s allegiance to the Yankees, which drew a wide range of reactions from a class split down the middle between Red Sox and Yankees fans. More amusement came later in the school library, where the kids buzzed around, eager for me and Teo to browse the shelves with them. One student asked me to sit on the floor with her and read a picture book about dogs. “Ooooh, that one’s cute.” she said at every page, finding a way to connect to each breed: “My friend’s cousin has one that kinda looks like that!” and so on.

Our visit was a good reminder of how much energy and patience it takes to lead a classroom — fielding questions, keeping things moving, making every kid feel seen. It’s a lot to hold at once, and teachers do it every day!

3. Hot Cross Buns

I made the Stissing House hot cross buns, shared on Clare de Boer’s newsletter, to great success — only tweaking a few things, like swapping the candied orange peel for zingy candied ginger (highly recommend). I brought a few buns into work to share with coworkers, along with some salted butter, and can confirm this is a reliable way to make friends.

4. Post-Dinner Cheese

One of my resolutions for 2026 was to serve and consume more post-dinner cheese plates. Yup, we’re aiming high this year.

There’s something about passing around a curated plate of cheeses after a meal that feels delectably French, and as far as I’m concerned, we could all use more of that energy. Salad, then cheese, then dessert, until you look up and realize you’ve been sitting at the table for four hours, still talking and enjoying yourself.

My dad’s birthday felt like the perfect occasion for this kind of dinner. He’s a man of many joys, but near the top of the list is a leisurely meal with a proper cheese course, so that’s exactly what we had. (More notes on our meal to come!)

I picked out three Vermont cheeses with the help of a cheesemonger at the Middlebury Food Co-Op: Woodlawn Creamery’s Pawlet, Blue Ledge Farm’s Lake’s Edge, and Parish Hill Creamery’s Lillian. A mix of textures and styles that played off each other nicely. My favorite might have been the Lake’s Edge, an ash-veined goat cheese with a bright tang and a melt-in-your-mouth quality. I’ll be going back for that one.

5. Doves Diner Pit Stop

On our way home from Vermont, we made a pit stop at Doves Diner (formerly West Taghkanic) in Ancram, New York. I love a classic diner, as I’ve expressed many times on The Dish, and I appreciate that this revamp isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel — just elevate the classics with thoughtful touches. The pancakes are squidgy and sweet, the scrambled eggs are velvety, the coffee is strong, and the check comes with a peppermint (which brought me outsized delight). I suspect Doves will become a regular stop for me and Teo on our way to and from the Green Mountains.

6. Crevette

Sometimes, when I dine with fellow cooks, the table turns into a kind of symposium, everyone leaning in, dissecting the dishes, and marveling at technique. Other times, though, the best move is to surrender: to stop analyzing and offer nothing more articulate than, “Oh my god, yum.” This was one of those nights.

At Crevette, a seafood-focused restaurant in the West Village, I sat with Teo, my parents, and two friends, and we let the food wash over us until we left in a happy daze. There were plump shrimp served with aioli and Calabrian chile, their sweetness sharpened by heat; Swiss chard, braised down to lush softness; grilled wild mushrooms cradling a golden egg yolk; and crispy cod cheeks topped with ribbons of silky Iberian ham. Oh, and more and more and more.

Seafood is my favorite, and Crevette serves some of the best I’ve had.

Thank you for reading (and sorry if this made you hungry).

More soon,
x Phoebe

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However, on the occasions when I’ve made everything ahead of time, leaving only a few scraps of prep for the day of, two things tend to happen:

1. I’m exhausted by the time dinner rolls around, precisely when I’m supposed to be having fun, and

2. things go…almost too smoothly. Everything’s ready when people arrive, we eat, and then suddenly the night is over and guests feel like it’s time to go home.

Lest we forget: it’s not that serious. I tend to prep as if we’re about to sit down, Downton Abbey-style, to a three-course meal at an immaculately set table, silver polished, crystal gleaming. But in reality, I’m usually entertaining in our Brooklyn apartment, with mismatched plates and not enough wine glasses, cooking for friends and family. And I should mention, I’m spoiled: most of the people I cook for also love to cook. They’re the kind of people who jump in without hesitation and often feel more comfortable helping with the food than sitting back and being served.

I’m thinking about this today because Teo made mole1 (!) the other night — a much-discussed labor of love. We sourced ingredients from several different shops, including ancho chiles from Kalustyan’s and lard and animal crackers (yes, really) from Fairway. The night before, we did a few bits of prep, like mixing the flour tortilla dough2, wrapping it tightly in plastic, and refrigerating it overnight. But I was working the following day, and Teo was deep in mole (and a dozen other non-food-related things), so the rest of the prep had to wait until right before dinner.

When I got home around 6:30 on Mole Day, a couple of friends were already there, pinching off golf balls of dough and rolling them out with wine bottles until thin and ready to fry. Teo was finishing the mole, the apartment smelled divine, and everything felt right — even though we still had work to do. I quickly defrosted frozen corn under warm water and broiled it until charred — a clever off-season elote hack I picked up online. We poached chicken thighs in water scented with ancho chiles, garlic, and spices, which gave us both tender meat to smother in mole and a flavorful chicken broth. Meanwhile, our friends took over tortilla duty, frying them one by one until puffed and blistered, then stacking them under a clean dish towel to keep warm. In the meantime, there were store-bought chips and tomatillo salsa (this brand is great) to snack on.

By the time we finally sat down to eat, sprawled across the couch and carpet around the coffee table, we were ready. Everything tasted ten times better because of the softer, looser energy, and because we’d all had a hand in it, in one way or another. The night stretched naturally into something that felt less like a traditional dinner party and more like its own thing.

If you’re stressed about a dinner party or trying to make a particular impression, sure: make everything ahead. But if you’re trying to have a good time with your people, leave a little room for friction — for tortillas to be rolled with wine bottles and for things to come together in real time.

More soon,
x Phoebe

P.S. I love you, Ina.

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