When I was a junior and senior in high school, I ate fast food nearly every single day for lunch. I can rarely recall an exception to this, because apparently processed fats make the inside of your brain too greasy for memories to stick to them, but I have a sneaking suspicion there were at least…
As a lifelong pumpkin aficionado, I have a special place in my heart for the baccanalian gourd-fuckfest that is fall. From the end of September until Thanksgiving, I ingest so many orange-hued treats that my farts smell of cinnamon and nutmeg (“They do not.” – my husband, pumpkin hater and fart snob). I remain, for…
There is a banging noise coming from the courtyard outside, and the sky above London is grey. It all feels familiar, the early morning sounds and sights of a city I’ve come to know. We have friends here, we have favorite restaurants and shops; we’ve even stayed in this strange little hotel before, with its…
“I’m kinda hungry.” “CHERRIES.”
Dear Nestlé Corporation, I am writing to you on behalf of my husband, Rand, even though he has disavowed any knowledge of this letter, and refuses to be held accountable for ‘the shit that I do when I am bored.’ But I am certain that he would agree with everything I am about to say. Rand is…
Recently, I went pseudo Paleo. I say pseudo, because, like most things in my life, I’ve jumped in headfirst without putting any thought or research into it (this is also how I ended up taking a workout class called “Insanity.” Afterwards, I was drooling and delirious. So I guess it delivered). So, despite being totally…
When people learn of my vast and all-consuming love of sweets, they are often surprised to learn that dessert was largely absent from my childhood. My mother is not a baker, nor a lover of sweet things. There was, on occasion, a box or two of Pepperidge Farm Milano Cookies in the cabinet, but these…
I’ve never been one to have much restraint when it comes to sweets, especially when I can eat them in the name of “research.” “It burns more calories this way,” I will say to Rand, my mouth full of fried dough. He has learned, over the years, not to challenge this assertion. The Spanish,…
Paco Roig Bakery, Mercat Central, Valencia: “I love you.” “Awww, well, I lo– wait … are you talking to the croissant?” “… Yes.”
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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