Cut open a watermelon and you’ll see plenty of seeds — seedless or not. They may be black or white, but they’re seeds just the same. Is there a difference between the two colors? Do you have to spit out both?
 
 
							
			
							Cut open a watermelon and you’ll see plenty of seeds — seedless or not. They may be black or white, but they’re seeds just the same. Is there a difference between the two colors? Do you have to spit out both?
 
Traditionally creamy Caesar dressing gets its rich and luxurious texture from the addition of raw egg yolk. When prepared correctly, it’s completely safe to eat, but I understand your concerns if that’s not quite for you. Don’t rule out homemade creamy Caesar dressing, though! Try one of these five methods for making it without raw egg.
 
 When I moved to New York City 16 years ago I am pretty sure that on some level I believed if I went far enough above 14th Street with money I did not have, I’d reenter some gauzy version of New York from the past, you know, stuffy restaurants with tufted leather banquettes, paintings in gilded frames, black and white tiled floors and stories about when Sinatra was a regular. Places where mutton chops, Lobster Newburg, Baked Alaska and things in champagne cream sauce never went off the menu. It’s not entirely clear to me why I thought I was moving to 1950 but needless to say, in the actual New York City I moved to, my first years were filled with the typical stuff, a walkup apartment in an illegal sublet, a terrible job, a lot of wine, virtually no hangovers (because: youth) and a lot of five-dumplings-for-a-dollar and $1.50 slices at 1 a.m.
 When I moved to New York City 16 years ago I am pretty sure that on some level I believed if I went far enough above 14th Street with money I did not have, I’d reenter some gauzy version of New York from the past, you know, stuffy restaurants with tufted leather banquettes, paintings in gilded frames, black and white tiled floors and stories about when Sinatra was a regular. Places where mutton chops, Lobster Newburg, Baked Alaska and things in champagne cream sauce never went off the menu. It’s not entirely clear to me why I thought I was moving to 1950 but needless to say, in the actual New York City I moved to, my first years were filled with the typical stuff, a walkup apartment in an illegal sublet, a terrible job, a lot of wine, virtually no hangovers (because: youth) and a lot of five-dumplings-for-a-dollar and $1.50 slices at 1 a.m.  I still love those old-fashioned places, though, and I have yet to find peach melba on a menu. It’s too bad; I realize it sounds dreadful, like something an ancient aunt named Melba would eat or worse, something someone snuck melba toast into (fair enough, as they’re named after the same person), thinking we wouldn’t notice, but as it’s in fact a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a poached peach half and a cascade of tart raspberry sauce, it’s probably the most August dessert, ever. Escoffier created the dessert in 1892 for a dinner party to honor the opera singer Nellie Melba, who was performing in Covent Garden. Wikipedia says that an ice sculpture of a swan, which had been featured in the opera, carried peaches that rested on a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with spun sugar but was later replaced with raspberry purée.
 I still love those old-fashioned places, though, and I have yet to find peach melba on a menu. It’s too bad; I realize it sounds dreadful, like something an ancient aunt named Melba would eat or worse, something someone snuck melba toast into (fair enough, as they’re named after the same person), thinking we wouldn’t notice, but as it’s in fact a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a poached peach half and a cascade of tart raspberry sauce, it’s probably the most August dessert, ever. Escoffier created the dessert in 1892 for a dinner party to honor the opera singer Nellie Melba, who was performing in Covent Garden. Wikipedia says that an ice sculpture of a swan, which had been featured in the opera, carried peaches that rested on a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with spun sugar but was later replaced with raspberry purée. 
 
This is the kind of pasta for those evenings where you find yourself standing in the grocery store without a clue about what to make for dinner that night. Pasta is easy and always a crowd-pleaser, but what kind of sauce are you going to whip up? For that, head straight to the antipasti bar.
 
Whenever I am lost for dinner ideas and wandering aimlessly through the grocery store (this happens more often than you might think), I make my way over to the antipasti bar. You know the one — it’s that little corner of the store, maybe by the fancy cheese or the deli, with a gorgeous display of olives and marinated vegetables.
The antipasti bar isn’t just a good spot for appetizers or snacks — it’s also a source to gather the inspiration needed to get dinner on the table.
 
(Image credit: Target)
From Apartment Therapy → 9 Cabinet Storage Products that Maximize Every Last Square Inch of Space
 
(Image credit: Christine Han)
A few years ago, a recipe in a food magazine caught my eye. The recipe involved stuffing pita bread with a thin layer of seasoned ground lamb, then grilling the whole thing until the outside was crispy and the inside stayed nice and juicy. It was an outrageously delicious and fun idea, a bit like hamburger meets pizza pocket. I liked this idea so much I wanted to make it again, but this time with Thai flavors on cute little mini pitas!
 
A Caesar salad is only as good as its dressing. And while it’s not hard to make an incredible one from a few pantry staples, sometimes you just don’t have the time. A bottle of the store-bought stuff is a quick, painless way to get salad on the table fast. But with an aisle full of bottles to choose from, just which one exactly is worth buying? We tasted some of the most popular brands in order to find one that’s worthy of its convenience.
 
(Image credit: You Beauty)
From Apartment Therapy → DIY Beauty: Fresh Homemade Face Mask Recipes for All Skin Types
 
 Stop what you’re doing. Dinner tonight is the very best kind there is: it has five ingredients including the ones to make the pizza dough. It’s seasonal, which means you can use it to decimate your CSA pile-up. And it doesn’t care what else you had in mind; recipes like this exist to disrupt the best-laid meal plans and that’s my favorite thing about them. It is, in fact, pretty much the only thing I want out of any dish, for it, at least for a time to be the thing you have to eat next because now nothing else will do.
 Stop what you’re doing. Dinner tonight is the very best kind there is: it has five ingredients including the ones to make the pizza dough. It’s seasonal, which means you can use it to decimate your CSA pile-up. And it doesn’t care what else you had in mind; recipes like this exist to disrupt the best-laid meal plans and that’s my favorite thing about them. It is, in fact, pretty much the only thing I want out of any dish, for it, at least for a time to be the thing you have to eat next because now nothing else will do.  I, too, had a plan, something involving these summer squash but with pesto and burrata and maybe some beans or farro? It hadn’t quite come together yet when I death-wished over to Sullivan Street Bakery last week to pick up a sourdough pullman for the blueberry bread and butter pudding and ended up walking out with six things not on my list, as will happen when you go to an amazing bakery: this crazy pastry and five squares of pizza, which made a fantastic and surprisingly light weeknight dinner miles better than anything that delivers (the irony not lost on the person doing the miles and the delivering). The mushroom was funky and delicious; the cauliflower was speckled with heat; the potato pizza was such a perfect match for this one, I was really proud of myself until I remembered that it’s the same recipe (it’s okay, I’m rolling my eyes too); the pomodoro was loved only by me either because I appreciate simple things that need no adornment (my theory) or because I’m a bore (others‘) but the zucchini pizza with heaps and valleys of deer bed-like shreds? Whoa. I had to get to the bottom of it.
 I, too, had a plan, something involving these summer squash but with pesto and burrata and maybe some beans or farro? It hadn’t quite come together yet when I death-wished over to Sullivan Street Bakery last week to pick up a sourdough pullman for the blueberry bread and butter pudding and ended up walking out with six things not on my list, as will happen when you go to an amazing bakery: this crazy pastry and five squares of pizza, which made a fantastic and surprisingly light weeknight dinner miles better than anything that delivers (the irony not lost on the person doing the miles and the delivering). The mushroom was funky and delicious; the cauliflower was speckled with heat; the potato pizza was such a perfect match for this one, I was really proud of myself until I remembered that it’s the same recipe (it’s okay, I’m rolling my eyes too); the pomodoro was loved only by me either because I appreciate simple things that need no adornment (my theory) or because I’m a bore (others‘) but the zucchini pizza with heaps and valleys of deer bed-like shreds? Whoa. I had to get to the bottom of it. 