There generations of dads. Grand-daddy in (probably) Hodge, Louisiana, circa 1939/1940, plus eldest son (my dad, William Holmes Buford, jr) and his brother Skippy, and then William Holmes Buford iii (aka me) with sons George & Frederick. #HappyFathersDay
Three turkeys, 3 efforts to cook a bird without a desiccated breast. #1 spatchcocked (or what French describes as “au crapaud “—like a toad). # 2 dry brine + goose fat under the skin . # 3 the control. Both # 1 & 2 (both @dartagnanfoods ) were good. But the “toad”? Superb
This happy photo taken by the legendary Jill Krementz and gifted to us on our 22nd anniversary—the happiest, most creative, delightfully seat-of-the-pants, and most loving years of our lives—and proof that there is life in the magic combo of beauty and the beast (in the original version, a very hairy beast). Thank you, Jessica!
A useless video of a youthful Jamal James Kent, bad sound, bad everything, but it is a glimpse of his time in Lyon in 2011 for the Bocuse d’Dor and the tenderness of his New York inspired dishes. Also a shot of his mother and extraordinary grandmother. Lyon, 2011
A useless video of a youthful Jamal James Kent, bad sound, bad everything, but it is a glimpse of his time in Lyon in 2011 for the Bocuse d’Dor and the tenderness of his New York inspired dishes.
We’ve lost one of the greats. Alice Munro. I was among the privileged at @NewYorker who got to work with her, which really amounted to spending extra time—happy hours in fact—in among her sentences. What a subtle brilliant talent
