Rebecca A. Cooper

There are two kinds of food lovers: the elitists and the egalitarians. The first are the people who go on

We, the after-school-snack-lovers who blossomed into budding gourmands, United around the world by our affection for pumpkin pie, our commitment

Listening to Sam D.G. Jacoby ’08, you’d think there was a tiny factory—one as enchanting as the Santa’s toy workshop—hidden

I didn’t go to Italy to work in a 100-degree kitchen because I wanted to be a chef. I didn’t

I distinctly remember the meal in Colico last summer—at the agriturismo just north of Lake Como—when I had the pumpkin

The Harvard Medical School (HMS) and the CIA (née the Culinary Institute of America) were married in Napa Valley over

I’m sorry if I accosted you before my trip to Japan. Over spring break I traveled to Tokyo with the

A certain recent lunch featured a depressing amount of starch. Two kinds of fries. Two kinds of pasta. A chicken

For most chefs, the acronym CIA conjures up images of white coats, cooking classes, and soup stocks in the Escoffier

I was midway through savoring sizzling Chorizos braised in Asturian cider, anchovies on a bed of oven-roasted eggplant, braised octopus