There is something to be said about a truly disastrous meal, a meal forever indelible in your memory because it’s so uniquely bad, it can only be deemed an achievement. The sort of meal where everyone involved was definitely trying to do something; it’s just not entirely clear what. I’m not talking about a meal…
My husband and I are driving through southern Oregon, like we have every summer since we were married. I see a Red Lobster. I scream. I tell him to pull over immediately. He ignores me. After more than a decade together he can distinguish between my “something is urgently wrong” scream and my “I need…
I am not the first to discover Bar Luce. Designed by filmmaker Wes Anderson, it opened in 2015 and I did not learn of its existence until 2017, which is a lifetime in the world of the hip and the trendy. It sits on the outskirts of Milan, crowded with flawlessly beautiful and bored looking…
“You never wrote about the curry plane.” “The … the curry plane?” He nods, pouting. I am confused. “Like, a plane of existence that consists of … curry?” I ask, hoping for clarification. He is annoyed. “The curry plane.” “The curry plain,” I say, nodding, having no idea to what he is referring. “… a…
I get to go to a lot of nice dinners. That’s one of the perks of traveling with your husband for his work – I usually get to attend corporate events in fancy places. And then I make fart jokes, because I need to keep it real, you know?
My muscles hurt. This is only slightly unexpected. I have been known, on occasion, to go for a run, even if it might be in pursuit of an ice cream truck. But lately, I’ve been running, doing the occasional push-up, and, perhaps most shockingly of all, I’ve been eating with a more discerning eye. This…
Many, many months ago, before life and travel got in the way, I had started to tell you all about our favorite restaurant in Amalfi: Taverna Buonvicino. I wrote about our first visit there, and how we loved it so much we went back again. But I never finished that story. Part of me wondered…
The past few weeks have felt like a confessional on the blog – a time to tell stories untold, to cast light on the dark corners of my memory. A while back, Mindy asked me if I’d included the story of The Wine (“I feel like it should be capitalized,” said Rand), now legendary in…
St. Albans is incredibly charming, and it’s a very short train ride from London, and there are plenty of other reasons to visit. All of them, however, are being crowded out of my memory because during our visit we ate at a place called The Cock Inn, and I find that to be utterly hilarious.…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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