Good ‘ol fashion hot dogs. A staple from ballparks to BBQs – hot dogs scream Americana. But have you noticed recently that everyone’s favorite dog has gone gourmet? From gastropub menus to specialty food stores, dogs have gone upscale and have even snatched up some of the best real estate in San Francisco.
Glorious tomatoes... Misshapen. Warmed by the sun. Grab one and eat it over the sink (go ahead, no one's looking). If you’ve been feasting on caprese salads and gazpacho, and find yourself still looking for more ways to use your abundance of tomatoes, I suggest you sleep on it. Overnight you can have one of my favorite foods – oven-dried tomatoes in herbed olive oil. Here’s how...

Roving street eats from creme brulee to cookies to cubanos are fighting for the foodservice dollar, bringing the tastiest of bites to you with little to no overhead.

The Ketchum Chicago Dinner Club Journeys to the East
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Have you ever looked through the pages of Food & Wine or Bon Appetit and seen the photo spreads of people eating a great meal al fresco. There's a table set up outside in a field somewhere with a colorful striped tablecloth and matching napkins, candles and lights adorning umbrellas and fences and centerpieces made from fresh produce or flowers that look like they were picked that day. The food, of course, is laid out on beautiful platters and garnished just so. The people are smiling and happy and you wonder, "Who are these people? Who eats like that?"

Ok, enough about Julie & Julia. It may come to you as a surprise but the real Julia was unknown outside the US. Let me introduce you to our argentine version, Mrs Petrona c de Gandulfo.
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Julie & Julia is a gastronomy pleasure based on a pair of books by two women who never met, but found themselves through the joy of cooking. The film is well done and entertaining – and then there’s the food. I’m still thinking about the delectable chicken smothered in truffles and cream and the gorgeous raspberry Bavarian cream that fell helplessly on the sidewalk in NYC.
I must apologize. I apologize to the guys at Joe's on Bleeker street and Mariella's Pizza on East 16th street, the Marlboro pizza staff in Marlboro, New Jersey, the pizza makers at Mario's in Chappaqua, and a long overdue apology to Margherita's Pizza in Newark, Delaware.
I come from a long line of berry dessert bakers. Grandma Wilma Logsdon grew berries of all kinds in her Western Illinois garden, and Grandma Opal Miller joined us for wild blueberry picking expeditions up north. Until I have a patch of land on which to grow my own blueberries (and raspberries… and apples… and…), I buy my berries at the farmers market. So Saturday as I pondered my blueberry bounty (I…over-purchased), I had one thought: buckle.