From Ami
I have a fairly innocuous blue plastic box of files tucked away in the corner of the living room. It contains pages and pages of my decades-old compulsion: tearing recipes out of magazines.

And not just any old recipes. They're not chicken noodle soup or brownie recipes, they're things a working mom would never endeavor to cook for her family. Yet, I'm compelled to collect them.

Sweet Pepper Mango Salsa, Banana Cake with Blueberry Sauce, Almond Mayonnaise, Venison with Dried Cherry Sauce, Amaretto Souffle.

No one in my meat-and-potatoes/Pizza Hut/ham sandwich family would appreciate these kinds of dishes, and I sure don't have time to make them. Every time I add to the files and see the dusty, torn-out magazine pages, it makes me feel like I'm missing something.

But I still dream of a long, polished dining room table. Me, in an apron (I have one, of course) and an exquisite dish made from scratch with quality ingredients. I can still remember the first few months of marriage, whipping up chocolate eclairs and shrimp etouffee (including the roux, thank you very much!), but those days of leisure are long gone.

Foie Gras with Grapes, Squid Ink Fettuccine, Blackberry Sorbet, Hazelnut Cookies, Beef Wellington.

My plan is this: to draw out one recipe a month and try it. The sacred box of files, broken open and brought to light, should yield great things!