A few weeks ago I came across an excerpt from C. S. Lewis’s Present Concerns: Journalistic Essays* where the British writer of Narnian fame commented on the anxiety of the Atomic Age (highlights are my own): In one way we think a great deal too… Read More
(Julia Turshen [@turshen on Instagram] is offering food writing classes via Instagram Live with prompts and special guests M – F 2 PM EST while everyone’s at home due to COVID-19. These are my responses to her prompts.) I posted a modified Turon recipe using… Read More
It’s hard to imagine profanity out of your own parents, much less them picking at fish heads in the middle of class. Then again, food, like family, often skews bizarre rather than romantic.
“Everyday’s Your Birthday”. With my 30th birthday coming up and as I sit here in self-quarantine, those words have come back in an unexpected way. I do imagine that if today were my birthday, I’d want to share trays of oysters, foie gras on toast, butter on everything, and bottles of champagne with friends and anyone who’d come. But the fact that I still have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food on the table is cause enough for celebration. I suppose a simple blueberry cheesecake and the knowledge that my family makes it through this would be enough.
My mother returned the phone to her ear and continued, “911? Yes that’s right. My son refuses to eat his oatmeal. Can you please bring extra IV bags and your largest set of needles?…”
