Obviously, these are not actually teriyaki strips; they’re teriyaki chunks, because the butcher kindly offered to cut my flank steak into pieces for me, and I didn’t realize he’d chopped it into cubes instead of longer slices until it was too late. Quel dommage—or however you say that in Japanese, I guess. Continue reading
In uncertain times—when spring just doesn’t seem to stick; when our government is a dysfunctional, fourth-rate reality competition; when innocent-looking lettuce can literally kill you—there’s at least one thing we can rely on: cheese, glorious cheese. Cheese has no season; cheese knows no politics; cheese has no murder in its heart. (Unless you live in France.) Cheese is kind and comforting, in brightest day or darkest night, whether it’s a supporting character on your plate or the main event. Cheese, for lack of a better word, is good.