Deb Perelman is the kind of person you might innocently ask what the difference is between summer and winter squash and she’ll go on for about twenty minutes before coming up for air to a cleared room and you soundly snoring. It’s taken some time, but she’s finally realized that there are people out there that might forgive her for such food, cooking and ingredient-obsessed blathering and possibly, even come back for more.
In previous iterations of her so-called career, she’s been a record store shift supervisor, a scrawler of “happy birthday” on bakery cakes, an art therapist and a technology reporter. She likes her current gig – the one where she wakes up and cooks whatever she feels like that day – the best. When she’s not prattling on about galley and grub here, Deb is an occasional freelance writer and photographer.
Deb likes bourbon, artichokes, french fries, things that taste like burnt sugar and baked goods with funny names. She lives in the East Village with her husband Alex (likes: salt, shellfish, things wrapped, stuffed or balanced on bacon, steak frites, milk chocolate, Bloody Marys, pretty much anything pickled, and Deb, although she is usually not), son Jacob (likes: chocolate, bananas, spaghetti, pizza, hamburgers and can you tell he is 6?) and daughter Anna (likes: blueberries, strawberries, peaches, apples, edamame, sweet potatoes, cheerios and will reliably fling any other food from her high chair; can you tell she is 1?).