We went out to dinner at Poggio and I ordered every weird item on the antipasto menu for the table -- tripe, pig trotter croquettes, octopus, sardines -- which was possibly inconsiderate. Everything was okay, but everything was one degree off -- one squeeze of the lemon, one pinch of salt -- from being truly delicious. Carlos Santana walked by while we were dining. Poggio isn't good enough for Santana.
|Left: cookies made with Clabber Girl baking powder. Right: homemade baking powder.|
It was supposed to snow here today, but the sky is blue and the sun is out so I guess we're out of luck.