I never thought I’d consider getting a haircut an oddly intimate experience. Intimacy is reserved for people you’ve dated, family members, a handful of good friends. Probably a doctor or two. Maybe, the woman who gives you bikini waxes. But never hair stylists. Or so I thought.Read More
I successfully made it through 5 years of living in New York without a mouse problem. Sure, there were the pantry moths and that teeny-tiny roach infestation in my building and a rogue “what the FUCK IS THAT” every once in a while, but as far as I knew, I had gone through my life here without a single Mickey or Minnie in sight.
Until last week.Read More
Three times a year, my company offers a free book drop. They send out a list of about 75 titles and you get to pick seven that will magically appear on your desk 3-5 business days later. Granted, you can always email publicists and editors around the company to ask for a specific book, but there's something extra-special about the free book drop.Read More
Being a book publicist is so similar to dating in New York City it scares me sometimes.
There's that blind period, waiting for the other person to respond. There's the game of either making them sweat it out or scrambling to make sure your window of opportunity doesn't slam shut. You have to reach out, wait, reach out again, get frustrated, use interest from somewhere else to get interest from the place you really want. Read and re-read email drafts. Force yourself to push send. Get anxiety. Put it off. Distract yourself. Go bother a coworker who's doing the same exact thing for her author. Return to your desk. Radio silence. Until *ding* that dopamine hits. With each incoming email, you hold your breath hoping it's the producer or editor saying they're interested in your author. And then, if you're lucky enough, you're in. You do a little happy dance in your chair. If not, you bang your head on the desk and try to take calming breaths. I've had it both ways.Read More
I've lived in New York for a while now, and there are some things I don't think I'll ever get over: the view of the Manhattan skyline from Brooklyn Bridge park, pizza availability at 3 AM, access to some of the best museums and music in the world.
Oh, and the ACCEPTABILITY OF A 15% BROKERS FEE.Read More
So I think my 27th birthday was one of the best days of my life.
Last Friday marked my 27th turn around the sun, and I got to spend the day with some of the loveliest humans I know. I walked from Morningside Heights to Midtown East through Central Park and saw a man walking 10 dogs at once. I walked from Midtown East to Chelsea and saw so many tourists. Punctuating all of this walking was coffee with new coworkers, brunch with best friends and drinks with my partner. It was already pretty damn lovely.Read More
So I'm a little afraid of my kitchen.
"Rina, you write a food blog, what the fuck?"
I know, I know! I should have full kitchen confidence, wielding knives with Benihana flamboyance and blowtorching shit all over the place.
But I'm a little afraid of my kitchen.
And the reason I'm a little afraid of my kitchen is because my oven is old, small and makes a clicking noise every once in a while. It's not not the title character from Alien.Read More
Guys, it's been a while. And we're real sorry about that. Life has a way of sucking you in and we were two serious victims of that. But we've made it through to the other side! Hair a bit windblown, but otherwise we've made it.
Spring is finally here and we couldn't more thrilled. Unlike the cheat we got this past fall, summer seems to be holding its full-force self at bay and letting us enjoy the cool breezes and quiet rains of spring. Finally, a real season - no half-assed snow dusting or color change accompanied by full-blown humidity. And what's a better way to celebrate spring than with something colorful and fresh?Read More
As I sit at my desk on this blustery afternoon, my mind naturally turns to what I'm going to eat for dinner. Do I want to spend a couple hours at the grocery store, stirring and measuring and roasting after a long day?
Fuck no. I want a bowl the size of my head filled with guacamole. With some crunchy things to dip thrown in for balance. A reasonable request, I would say.Read More
So, Passover is next week. Insane, right? I don't know where January or February went, but now Passover is in a week - maybe 2018 is trying to do us a favor by ending as quickly as possible.
I'm not going to my family for Passover this year, which means I'll be staying home in the city, staring longingly at bagels until I come to my senses.* In helping a friend menu plan her seder, I've been thinking about the foods and traditions my family has for our own. We always have props for the ten plagues on the table - plastic animals and bugs, those plastic monster finger puppet things and, for some reason, tiny plastic cowboys with guns for the death of the first born plague, maybe?Read More
Today's post is written by none other than Rina's amazing mama bear, Ruth! Welcome to the blog, Mama Gato.
Rina always stood on the little green stool. I stood behind her, her crazy curls tickling my nose as she stretched her tiny fingers to reach the kneading bowl. My grown up hands guided her child hands. Palm down, fold and turn, palm down, fold and turn, again and again. If the dough was too sticky Rina would make monster fingers with the tacky mess, and I would slowly add small pinches of flour to the bowl. “Does it feel like an earlobe, yet?” When Rina’s crazy curls bobbed up and down I would announce, “Then it’s done!”
That was how we made challah every Friday after nursery school. I showed Rina how to check an egg for blood spots, how to wake up the yeast with warm water and feed it with sugar and then proof it— wait patiently (or not so patiently) for it to froth in the bowl. This, Rina understood, was what it meant to “make Shabbos.” The Sabbath did not come on it’s own—if we wanted Friday night to become Shabbos, then we had to make it so. We had to invite the guests, shop for groceries, prepare the meal and set the table. In this way we transformed the mundane into the holy. A key step to turning an ordinary end-of-the-week dinner into a Shabbos feast was to bake the challah.Read More
Editor's note: Today, we have a very special guest blogger, Alyssa's mom! She's the brains behind this majestic soup, so we thought it was only appropriate that she share her inspiration with us. On a related note, give your mom a call today!
When my daughter, Alyssa, was little she loved to help cook in the kitchen. Being the neat freak I am, and hating a mess, I was always reluctant to let her help. Alyssa takes after her Maga (grandmother and my mother). Translation: both are a tornado in the kitchen.Read More
I've been on a travel high for the past week. Ten days in Israel will do that to you. A country seen too-often for for the bad press it gets and conflict it seems to sustain, it's not until you travel there that you realize how truly magnificent the place is.Read More
You know those days where you wake up and immediately suspect a bad day is afoot? Like, a day that's a worthy rival of Alexander's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (a favorite in the Adler household growing up)? That was what yesterday was like.
For starters, it was a Monday. Nothing good happens on a Monday. Even holiday weekend Mondays are really just Sundays in disguise. But this Monday, started with a wake up call from my parents checking in on me after hearing a pipe bomb went off at Port Authority. No casualties, thankfully. Then, five minutes later, the fire department comes barreling down my street, with firefighters in full gear clamoring up the stairs of my building. It was just steam, they said, thankfully. The worst part of these incidents was that I realized how New York I've become. I was not scared to ride the subway or be in a burning building. I was worried about being late for work and possibly having to evacuate in my pajamas.Read More
Hello, sweater weather! It is about damn time that the city cooled down - don't get me wrong, I love my tank dresses and jelly sandals, but I am giving a hearty goodbye to 150 degree subway platforms and that terrible first drip of sweat down the back. You know what I'm talking about - why is that first drip so horrific?
Anyway, I usually eat soup all year round because it is DELICIOUS, but eating soup in the summer is a very different experience from eating it in the fall. In the summer, I eat soup with a fan in front of my face, enjoying my food but questioning my life choices. In the fall though, eating soup is an easy, delicious comfort in the face of cooling weather and darkening skies. Alyssa and I are very big fans of soup, and are constantly looking for new recipes.Read More
There are so many things I loved about living in Israel, but something that always irked me was the lack of seasons. Except for a few days of snow during my time in Jerusalem, the weather was hot, kind of hot, extremely hot, or cool-ish. No blizzards, no super strong windy days. Lots of humidity. And definitely no changing leaves. That's what I missed the most about home, I think, besides my family (duh - hi guys!) - I'm from Michigan, land of beautiful fall foliage and autocratic automobile executives.Read More
It's Sunday night, and I just got off a plane. Scratch that - I just returned from the airport of horror, LaGuardia. The last thing I want to do, let alone think of, is making dinner. In my imagination, dinner is already ready and waiting for me. Perhaps, for practicality purposes, served by a handful of singing-and-dancing knick knacks?
OK, so maybe my life doesn't involve any Disney movie magic - which is too bad because how cool would a magic carpet be? Especially in New York, you'd save time and health commuting via magic carpet. I digress - but this blog is pretty magical. Especially when it comes to turning an over-abundance of veggies into the most convenient and delicious dishes your Sunday night has ever seen.Read More
Here at Gateau | Gato, we love nachos. LOVE them. When we're together, if we aren't cooking, photographing, writing or editing, there's a pretty good chance we're drinking beer and wine, respectively, eating nachos and talking about the scorched dessert that is the New York dating scene. What is it about nachos that makes them such happy food? How did we get so lucky, to have this amazing dish on offer at most bars with a happy hour? Do they come from the heavens with the angels and scary babies and whatnot?
Not exactly, but their history is still pretty cool!Read More
Do you guys ever have those days where you just need a reset? I'm talking about a did-I-really-drink-that-much-beer-and-then-drunk-eat-late-night-pizza-with-my-friends night followed by a concession stand dilemma between M&Ms and Butterfinger bites where your brother tells you to "just get both." By Monday, my body was screaming for something healthy to fuel me for my work outs (I'm looking at you, row class), nourish me past the 2 o'clock slump (keep me away from those vending machines!!) and just get back on the wagon.Read More
My junior year in Tel Aviv was the first time I had a kitchen of my own. Apart from the summer spent in an absorption center in Ashdod while volunteering on ambulances (whose kitchen consisted of a sad hot plate, a sad counter and a sad toaster oven), that was the first time I had a space to cook for myself. And what did I do to inaugurate this life's milestone?
Ate nothing but hummus and cucumbers on toast.Read More