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Rick Nichols is a Philadelphia native (a product of rowhouse Mayfair) who moved as a child to Lower Bucks County and later to New England. He graduated from the University of North Carolina and worked on the newspaper in Raleigh. After a Nieman Fellowship at Harvard, he joined The Inquirer in 1978. He was for many years a member of the Editorial Board, and has several journalism awards.

His column “On the Side” appears Thursdays in Food, and his column “Food” appears in the Sunday Image section.

Video:  A chat with the owner of Queens Farm at the Head House farmers market.

Series: On the Side | The Kitchen Diaries,  a tour of Rick's new kitchen.

 
Posted 05/16/2008
It is hard to miss Deborah's Kitchen on the faded 2600 block of Girard Avenue, its awning aglow like a lantern in the dark, the door wide open, a clutch of men hanging by the counter waiting for their fried chicken and turkey chops, for chopped collard greens and Sunday picnic potato salad, and - with a quiet, easy patience born of waiting for cooked-to-order soul food - for the bread pudding, pink-stained strawberry cake, or tub of banana pudding to finish things off.
When Osteria's chef directs a workshop, his students dream of crackling crusts drizzled with delight. First lesson: Artistry takes time.
Posted 05/08/2008
When the word went out that Osteria's estimable chef Jeff Michaud was hosting a pizza workshop in the demonstration kitchen at Foster's Homeware in Old City, I could feel a mischievous glint rising in my eye.
The new Les Bon Temps brings back memories of the building's former occupants.
Late last month on the block of 12th Street just north of Sansom, another "grand opening" banner was stripped above the stately windows of what was, once upon a time, the showroom of H.H. Battles, the elegant florist shop.
We find ourselves on the cusp of an ambivalent May, the first, fragile blush of spring already fading - a special breed of Jersey broccoli rabe, so tender it can be eaten raw, finished; good-bye, too, to the feathery, early dandelion greens (saluted with their own annual banquet in Vineland), gone.
With sales of his jewelry and sculpture slow, Zbigniew Chojnacki has turned to the creation of crepes: Edible masterpieces lovingly given shape in a tiny West Philly cart.
Four months ago, after a false start on another corner, Zbigniew Chojnacki set up shop - which is to say a gleaming food cart he calls La Dominique - not far from the flaring nostrils of the dragon that demarcates Drexel's urban campus.
'Good grief!" huffed an e-mail I got after applauding a City Council bill that would make chain restaurants post calorie counts on their menu boards: "Is there anything that government doesn't want to get its grubby hands on?"
On a recent afternoon, willowy Rachel Gordon (she has already abandoned Handwerger, her maiden name), 26, and her soon-to-be husband, David Gordon, 27, joined me over a smoothie (her) and falafel wrap (him) at a lunch stand in the Reading Terminal Market.
From the fourth-floor windows of City Council's stuffy chambers in City Hall last Thursday you could see the battlefield stretching up North Broad Street, from the McDonald's at Arch Street, still packed an hour after noon, to Quiznos beyond, and Dunkin' Donuts, which is not counting the fast-food outlets buried out of sight down in the SEPTA subway concourse.
For light, brothy, delicious turtle soup without the goop, check out Rieker's Prime Meats.
Two roads diverge when you dig into the ancestry of Philadelphia's signature soup, which would be snapper, the sightings of pepper pot - the other old favorite - so meager these days as to disqualify it as a contender.
By the second inning of the Phillies' first night game last week, the concession stands - as opposed to the luxury boxes - at Citizens Bank Park were, as they say in the restaurant trade, "in the weeds."
The little-known gin-sweet vermouth-Campari cocktail often brings back memories of the exotic kind.
It was a fellow by the musical name of Manuel Roig-Franzia who introduced me to the Negroni, the most elegant - and unquestionably most adult, and certifiably legendary - classic cocktail (an aperitif, if you will) that you've likely never had the sweet pleasure of meeting.
Noodles, kimchi, BBQ? Check - and also check out Asian fusion and transcendent wings in our growing Koreatown.
Koreatown's spirited second act rises at the far northern end of Fifth Street, spilling onto Cheltenham Avenue, its telltale signage leaving no mystery about its ownership - and target audience.
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