Notes From the Road

September 5th, 2012 § 1 comment § permalink

By the time the year is over, I will have attended five weddings. This breaks my 2008 record, a fact I’m commemorating by wearing all of the same dresses. Or at least the one(s) that still fit(s), a category which shrank significantly after the second wedding, in Spain, where all personal ham consumption records were shattered.

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The Long Haul

March 27th, 2011 § 12 comments § permalink

On long flights, I’ve always figured that my time was spent better sleeping than eating, a preemptive strike against the inevitable jet lag.

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May 16th, 2010 § 7 comments § permalink

I got into a little bit of trouble back in high school.

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My Father’s Daughter

February 6th, 2010 § 9 comments § permalink

While cleaning out my mother’s house I discovered something about my father.

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Memorial Day

May 25th, 2009 § 10 comments § permalink

When I eat steak I think of my father.

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Fake Chocolate Bunnies

April 8th, 2009 § 7 comments § permalink

When I was grown up and out of the house, my mother loved to send me little cards and packages around all of the holidays. I might get some candy corn for Halloween, and maybe a set of cookie cutters at Christmas. I would receive some chocolates, red hots, and (if I was lucky) heart-shaped cupcakes at Valentines day. Thanks to her, I have a collection of seasonally-themed cheese spreaders. These boxes started to arrive when I was in college and never stopped, no matter how far into adulthood I was.

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A Small Christmas

December 28th, 2008 § 4 comments § permalink

One year when I was in high school, my mother and her sisters decided to really mix things up. Instead of our traditional Christmas dinner of turkey and all of the trimmings, we would just have “a bunch of appetizers” — this was the phrase being tossed around — which people could eat at their leisure while opening presents and watching TV and playing games.

My grandmother was horrified.

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A Small Feast, An Unfamiliar Kitchen

May 30th, 2008 § 3 comments § permalink

You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet. Or, in my case, drastically overcook some chicken to realize that the oven runs hot.

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May 20th, 2008 § 1 comment § permalink

There are people who recommend Chartier for the food, and those people should not be trusted. Others will tell you to go for the room, a time capsule of fin-de-siecle Paris left unchanged and, possibly, undusted since 1896.

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