Archive for November, 2017

You say amaro

November 2017

One of my favorite people in the world, Italian-New Yorkese by way of Patagonia, says he is fleeing the kkkountry for Florence next week partly because he despises the feast of the Pilgrims. I haven’t checked in with the Instagram set yet, but food writers should agree. And this year my consort and I are going to be stuffing-free unless I heed my own advice. Also unless we lay in some Calvados. The trou normand would make an even better president than our cat

No free breakfast

November 2017

As a Twitter shut-in, I spend way too much time obsessing on kkkraziness. But on the day after a nutcase did what I worry about at every intersection on this tiny island, I especially kept flashing back on one of our half-dozen trips to real America in the last year. This one was at least rewarded with good food, and encouragement to come back. But the odds that I might be on the bike path in Lower Manhattan had a scary amount of friends checking in. My consort and I coulda just been making a wrong turn into Walmart in “real” America and never have wandered back out.