![]() ![]() I wrote up a spin on Mario Batali’s “cacciatore” ages ago on my blog, and with a Pat’s Pastured Poulet Rouge in our fridge, one of many goodies we brought home from Saturday’s Wintertime Farmers’ Market in Pawtucket, I decided a do-over was in order. ![]() ![]() ![]() Braises and stews, creamy starchy sides, our enameled cast iron cookware has gotten a workout. The dishes that appeal to me these days are the culinary equivalent of a big chunky sweater, a fleece blanket, a roaring fire sending forth the earthy aroma of woodsmoke, something to force the chill from my bones and warm me to my toes. I’ve skewed pretty heavily toward comfort food dinners of late, despite, or perhaps because of, my long workdays and the fact that a stubborn bug I thought I’d conquered has come back with a vengeance. ![]()
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