Author Archives: Michael Procopio

About Michael Procopio

I write about food and am very fond of Edward Gorey. And gin.

Greek Mythology

“Well, if you really want to know, I’ll tell you why we can’t drink at work. But only after you’ve finished your dinner because the story’s a bit…bloody.” Continue reading

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Les Marseillaises

I remembered reading something by MFK Fisher about her time living in Marseilles and how she was impressed by the efficiency of the local housewives who, rather than waste time constantly changing the salt cod’s soaking water, placed hunks of it in their toilet tanks so that every time someone spent a penny, their future dinner got a fresh change of water. I tried to find that passage again but couldn’t locate it. And then I thought to myself, “Well, she drank.” Continue reading

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Six Months to Live

The headline, if a tad misleading, is accurate. Continue reading

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Irish Sweepstakes Stew

My grandfather Dominic was said to have had the luck of the Irish, which I find odd because he was almost entirely Calabrese. Continue reading

Posted in Holidays, Meatness, Rants and Stories | Tagged , , , | 15 Comments

The Next Worst Thing

I learned that I had put a bottle of bleach in the freezer when I discovered my raspberry gelato under the sink. Continue reading

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(Insert Adjective) New Year.

Midnight and the New Year tiptoed into my life this year, but I made it into 2017 alive, and was therefore relieved. Continue reading

Posted in Holidays | Tagged , , | 24 Comments

Ku Klux Klams

Clams are, by instinct and necessity of location, bottom feeders. Continue reading

Posted in Rants and Stories, Savories | Tagged , , , | 30 Comments

A Columbus Day Casserole

I thought long and hard about what might be appropriate to bring to a Columbus Day dinner attended mostly by people I’d never met before. After a short while, the answer was obvious: Continue reading

Posted in Holidays, Rants and Stories, Savories | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments

The Fruitlessness of Hope

Our neighborhood was so fruitful during the summer that bags of produce would simply be abandoned on our doorstep like fructifying orphans in desperate need of a home. Continue reading

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Lime in The Coconut

Harry Nilsson was a terrible mixologist. Continue reading

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