When I am hungry while traveling, things go downhill very quickly. I become snappy and irritable and overly-sensitive. In a town like Munich, this can be problematic, because German isn’t exactly a delicate sounding language to begin with. Even when folks are being courteous (which they often are in Bavaria), I want to respond to them in one…
– We weren’t cool enough for The Woodsman Tavern, and we knew it. We’d found ourselves at the Portland restaurant at the recommendation of our friend Matt. We’d tried to go to Broder, but it was a Sunday morning and they were mobbed. Matt explained that The Woodsman had just started serving breakfast. We could…
– Pok Pok, for a lot of people in the northwest, is probably old news. When I first visited it a little over a year ago at the recommendation of my friend Jessica, it was still relatively obscure. The repetitive name did not hang on the lips of northwest foodies like a whisper to a…
– A friend of mine once told me about the time she chaperoned a group of teenagers on a trip to China. After arriving in Beijing, the kids, once so excited for their trip, had a bit of a breakdown. Many of them had never been outside of the U.S. Most of them hadn’t been…
– People are constantly marveling at my sense of sense of smell, which I find rather amusing. I tap my large and glorious nose, smile, and say, “What, you think this thing is just for show?” And while my memory is fading a bit on precisely how we ended up at Bubo, a high end…
I loved carnivals in my youth. I loved the way cheap outdoor lighting reflected onto hay cast that world in sepia tones. I loved the smell of the air – of grease and old wood and cotton candy. There would be twinkling lights, and music, and rides. Enormous, horribly-constructed stuffed animals hung above the rigged…
– I probably shouldn’t have dragged them all that way. If I had a conscience, I’d feel guilty, but I got rid of mine sometime around the 10th grade, when I let a boy touch my boobs for the first time. Thank goodness for that. The conscience-ridding, I mean. The boob-touching was less to rave…
– In high school, I ate fast food nearly every day. While my colon now involuntarily spasms at the thought, I lunched at Burger King on Mondays through Fridays for the better part of my junior and senior years. And yet, miraculously, I was far thinner than I am now. It was clearly a superpower…
– It is late Sunday night, and I’m staring at my computer screen, trying to figure where the time went. “How is the weekend already over?” I wonder (even after years of having no real obligations on Monday morning, I am still sad when it approaches). And just earlier today, I asked a friend how,…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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