Born and raised in Cincinnati and schooled in Bloomington, I now live in Salem with my beautiful and long suffering wife, two fast-growing sons, and a golden retriever who patently refuses to do so.
There is a fantastically good chance that the header image you see above was stolen from the excellent If We Don't, Remember Me. I sure do hope that's OK, because they are all so awesome.
Dean Allen should spend every waking moment writing cookbooks. Culinary troll that I am, I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about most of the time, but still I love reading his recipes for the jewels interspersed throughout, such as these:
You should be smoking while doing this, with the cigarette perched at enough of a jaunty angle that falling ash may add random colour and texture every time you swear.
[…]
Simmer for an hour or so, then remove the chicken and strain the by-now knackered vegetables from the broth to be chucked in the compost or served to rotten children.
