(Pictured above: me during a far less neurotic presentation.) I am standing in front of a crowd under blinding fluorescent lights. They appear to be listening to my every word. And I am positively bombing. The room is too bright, and I can see everyone’s faces, but I am absolutely unable to read their expressions.…
We went to Germany, and I cried. Not right away. It wasn’t until the last day that I finally did. Rand asked if I wanted to rent a car to go down to see my father’s grave. He asked me in the early hours of the morning, when jet lag had us both exhausted but…
I was recently nominated for a James Beard Award for journalism, and statement which makes as much sense as saying “I was nominated for a Grammy for this cookie that I just ate.” The other nominees in my category are – I kid you not – The New York Times and The Atlantic. I submitted…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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