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Every localvore knows the feeling that settles in around early spring: It's been five months since you agreed to eat food grown close to home, but your social conscience is only so patient. You find yourself sneaking guilty glances at the salad section of the grocery store.

The mesclun is still from California. But to succumb now — to purchase out-of-state roughage — would be unconscionable. Which makes you wonder: How do ethical eaters craft off-season meals that are both tasty and non-masochistic?... Read more

Some middle-aged dudes might fantasize about rock-star camp. Others will pay a mint to don big-league pinstripes and run around the field. Me, I just wanted to dismember an animal. At times during my decadently carnivorous years, enjoying everything from alligator to yak, I have wondered, "Could I cut it as a butcher?" So I decided to ask one for a tutorial. But, given the proliferation of non-service supermarket meat counters, I wondered if the eager-to-please meat cutters of my childhood even existed anymore.... Read more

There's a well-worn joke that summarizes Jewish holidays in nine words: "They tried to kill us. We survived. Let's eat." It's sort of true. On Chanukah we memorialize the Maccabees' triumphant revolt against the forces of Emperor Antiochus by eating potato latkes. On Purim we celebrate the lifting of a death decree against Jews in Persia with triangular poppy-seed pastries. Passover has a slightly different spin, commemorating the Israelite slaves' deliverance from Pharaoh's pursuing charioteers with an elaborate ceremonial meal — and an eight-day regime of special dietary restrictions.... Read more

My first time was transcendent. My first time, that is, with a chocolate martini. Normally I'm loyal to a lively Italian vino rosso, but this drink was worth straying for. Recalling it still gives me a little frisson of pleasure. But memory is all I've got, 'cause I've never had another one exactly like it.

A few years back, while on vacation in Key West, my companion and I found a small, cozy restaurant and had a spectacular dinner. When the dessert menus appeared, both of us were too full to contemplate more food, but one of the liquid options caught my eye: "Chocolate Martini."... Read more

For several hours last week I couldn't get toast out of my head. As I sat at my keyboard, trying to formulate a sentence, the word flowed through my thoughts like a mantra: "toast, brown crispy toast, toast with butter; I should be working right now; pumpernickel toast . . ." I tried to quell it with a snack — nine hazelnuts and a few gulps of mixed vegetable juice — but no luck. There was a big, doughy elephant in the room.... Read more

The turkey was titanic: a 28-pounder, the largest I’d ever cooked. After brining it, lifting it out, drying it off, stuffing it, trussing it, and sticking it in the oven, I thought I was done wrestling with mammoth poultry. But I’d miscalculated the number of meat-eaters at our Thanksgiving meal: A projected 25 guests had dwindled to nine, and six were vegetarians. After dinner, I hauled the leftover meat into cold storage. Over the next few days, I moved heavy pots of mashed potatoes, tried to empty the brining container solo, and made about 16 quarts of turkey soup.... Read more

Stare up at the sky on a clear night, and you are gazing deep into an unfathomable past. This is no metaphor: It’s an astronomical phenomenon. The light from the stars you see most likely traveled millions of years before striking your retina. The more distant the star, the older its light; even light from Earth’s closest star — the sun — takes more than eight minutes to reach us. So when you look at a constellation, you’re not seeing just a single moment from the past, but a cosmic collage of different moments.... Read more

"Dude. You’re a natural!” Zack Johnson is smiling ear to ear as my first awkward, arrhythmic scratches emanate from an old pair of Technics turntables. Wanting desperately to believe him, and unable to contain the boyish grin creeping over my face, I nod and unleash another torrent of heavy-handed but slightly more convincing “baby scratches” over a Dilated Peoples instrumental track.... Read more

Acuriously intense blanket of fog made nearly the whole journey from Montréal to the Highgate Springs border entrance a hyper-vigilant, steering-wheel-clenching affair. I approached the U.S. Customs station at 1 in the morning on November 21 with relief, if only because it was the first truly well-lit area I’d seen for 40 miles. Winding around the pylons and creeping up to the single open checkpoint lane, I saw that not a single car was ahead of me.... Read more

The writers, editors, sales people, web heads, graphic designers and general office-folk at Seven Days are a smart group of people. Several speak two languages — some three — and most have hip side projects outside of work. In their free time, a Seven Days-er might be the owner of an indie record label, a promoter for a mixed-martial-arts fight night, or the lead singer of a local rock band. But seasoned sportsmen? I don’t think so.... Read more