October 15, 2012 |
A million years passed, or so it seemed. "Never in a million years would Jack do that," Linda Bunyan, 56, of Harleysville, insisted as she watched her bare-footed friends stomp grapes at the Wine Room of Cherry Hill. It happened so quickly that Bunyan never saw her husband, Jack, 57, remove his shoes and socks and roll up his cuffs. He stepped into the 3-foot-wide, 18-inch-high vat and waited, his arms spread wide. His wife hopped in and the two embraced. They stomped and giggled like children.
April 15, 2010
Want to make your own Greek yogurt? Tom Vasiliades, owner of South Street Souvlaki, describes the process. Boil whole milk. Vasiliades prepares a gallon at a time for himself and eight gallons a night for the restaurant. When milk rises, remove from heat. Let it cool to lukewarm. Vasiliades said you should be able to hold your pinkie finger in the milk for 10 seconds - that means it's lukewarm. Remove a cup of the cooled milk. Mix this with yogurt culture or yesterday's yogurt (2-3 commercial spoonfuls per 2 gallons of milk)
October 18, 2008 |
Oddly and painfully timely, Arthur Miller's All My Sons, written in 1947, concerns the struggle between conscience and money. It shows how dangerous the self-interest of businessmen can be - in case we need reminding. Call it corny, self-righteous, overplotted or preachy, the play has withstood critical abuse because it works, and this new, starry production is moving and satisfying, emotionally and theatrically. Its plot concerns Joe Keller (John Lithgow), a man who sold defective airplane parts to the government, an act that saved his business and killed 21 young pilots.
November 21, 2007 |
It's not that I don't like Beaujolais Nouveau - I do. And every autumn, when the new vintage gushes forth amid a carnival of Gallic promotion, I lug home a couple of cases for Thanksgiving and the holiday season. Fresh, fruity, and with virtually no astringent tannins, Beaujolais Nouveau is a fun sipping wine that blends amiably with just about everything mom can forklift onto the groaning Thanksgiving table (the jury is still out on cranberry relish). All the same, two weeks ago, as I was clambering over cases of Beaujolais Nouveau that were crowding the aisle in my local wine shop, I had a delectably rebellious thought: Why not pass on the nouveau this year, and instead seek out wines from around the world with similar characteristics?
September 24, 2002
By Sidney B. Kurtz On the fourth Friday of each month, about 1:15 p.m., you can see her entering the front door of the Kresson View Center, a nursing home in Voorhees, to get ready for Shabbus (Sabbath) services. A couple of tables have been pushed together and chairs placed around them in the dining room or in the conference room, whichever is available. Hilda Isaacson, with the blessing of the Jewish Family Service and with her trademark silvery-white hair neatly coiffed, spreads out white tablecloths and sets out two candelabras, a bottle of grape juice, printouts of Hebrew prayers with transliteration for those not familiar with the age-old language, and a fresh, twist challah - the traditional bread eaten on the Sabbath.
January 8, 2001 |
The first Friday night of each month is special for a group of small children at Congregation Beth Tikvah. That's when the 2- to 5-year-olds get to join their families at the temple for an evening spent learning more about their heritage and religion. Led by Ann R. Nimberg, the Hebrew School principal, they read Bible stories and sing. The evening is part of a program called Tot Shabbat. The children are taught about Jewish holidays and Shabbat, the sabbath. Each Tot Shabbat is unique, focusing on a different facet of Judaism.
September 6, 2000 |
The 13th-century fortress sits atop the pale brown hills, where the pickers, with sharpened scissors and deft hands, move through the vineyards, filling buckets with grapes that have too quickly ripened under the stinging sun of a dry Tuscan summer. Silent against the landscape, the pickers hurry. Another week on the vines and the grapes - hanging like swollen purple pouches - will wither. It is a tense, beautiful time, a few days when nature and science conspire with the romance of centuries-old tradition.
June 7, 2000 |
Yeah, but is it wine? I'm enjoying a glass of Bordeaux with my friend the chef. Actually, enjoying is too frivolous a word. He is silent, eyes closed, leaning back in his chair, lower lip pulled in, head tilted slightly back to heaven. I am gaping off into the distance while the flavors bounce around from my tongue to my brain. The wine has layers and layers of taste and aroma. Deep and rich, it goes on forever. My wife walks by. She has seen this tableau before, so she doesn't bother to check either of us for a pulse.
February 2, 2000 |
In the beginning, zinfandel was an intensely flavored red grape that was loved by two different kinds of wine drinkers. Most zin went anonymously to big red jug wines - the kind that sustained generations of graduate students, starving artists and young couples with mortgages. Zinfandel is the most widely grown red grape in California, so that's a lot of wine. The little bit that was left over was made, mostly by small wineries into inky, intense, fruit-laden wines that were often very high in alcohol and loved by a small group - think of them as the original zinners.
April 10, 1998 |
As the grape juice - diluted to avoid stains - flowed, toy frogs and styrofoam hail rained on Pharaoh's people like punishments out of Plagues 'R' Us. "I want one," said Nathaniel Mulberg, 6, chasing after paper locusts flurrying around him and his fellow kindergartners in their classroom seder. And while her peers chanted "Hail, hail, hail," 5-year-old Madison Alterman groused that the soft stuff packed a sting as it struck her frog-stuffed headband. Beaning her pupils with the white balls was teacher Cindy Pickus.