Ro Howeis chef and owner of Barraud Caterers Limited, a full-service catering company based in New York City. She has been a professional chef since 1978, and has twice served as a guest chef for the James Beard Foundation. Ro’s recipes have appeared in Victoria and The Beard House magazines, and in Famous Chefs Cook With Beer. Barraud Caterers has been featured in New York magazine as one of the 45 best caterers in the New York area and in its New York Weddings special edition.
Bristol sparkles with intellectual and artistic life — the ancient treasures of the city and its surroundings have been preserved for the walking, exploring, living public to enjoy as a legacy of history.
It was an extension of table etiquette advice – to be sensitive to the difference between public and private situations and to respond appropriately within them. The sitting room is not the dining room nor the palace.
Here I am giving you some new ideas to explore, using typical ingredients, to bring a little fillip to the timeworn feast. They will deliciously accompany and gorgeously garnish the resplendent, moist turkey.
Cross the French border at San Sebastian into Spain and almost immediately everything changes: the weather, scenery, layout of the towns, and the fumble of little shops on the streets are still small but somehow different.
I had lost my passport and ticket, but not my way. I had lost a treasure of my origins and childhood. I was learning fortitude, discerning the symbolic from the real and a small new delight in my own daring. Call it confidence.
We had happened upon a pub that offered good honest Scottish fare: Scotch broth, Cullen Skink (smoked haddock soup), Howtowdie, (whole chicken stewed), venison stew, Clootie dumpling (dried fruit steamed pudding) and a rarity then in pubs, Scottish cheeses.
Having been told I was an eager amateur cook, I was invited to visit the kitchen and speak with Mrs. Boyle, the family’s cook, who never seemed to stop working – preparing breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea and dinner for the guests.
Three weeks later Jean-Luc called. He was visiting London. Over many meals of moules, Chinese, Indian, French, Turkish and English food, we developed a warmhearted friendship. Out of the sad fire of misled expectations and blind hope evolved happy stories.
Originally, the term tapa referenced the little piece of bread placed on a glass of wine sampled in a bodega (wine cellar). Then tapas developed into small plates eaten around a high table between breakfast and lunch or lunch and dinner.
The first course was a simple chicken liver pâté served with toast points and cornichons. It was sumptuous, rich, and delicious — of course. But what impressed me more than anything was the delightful surprise that you could make it yourself.
This year’s Rio Olympics has unlocked that old trunk in the attic. And while rummaging around the skimming of tattooed-mind moments and tattered remains of memory embers, I stopped to smile at my first discovery of Brazilian food.