I sat, cross, my arms crossed. I had pushed away my plate with an expression that echoed my repugnance. It was a betrayal so grand as to be inconceivable at first. I looked around for signs that this was all a practical joke, that I had unknowingly fallen victim to the candid camera. Surely this hadn’t really…
The restaurant scene of NYC has intimidated me since the first lonely Fung Wah day-trip I took there back in high school. Overstimulated by noises and overwhelmed by options, I couldn’t imagine how even residents could reach a decision on where to go and what to eat in a city that seems to have everything for everyone…
Italian. Lately I’ve been getting into it more. Not red sauce and gravy, chicken parm hoagies or pepperoni ‘zuh or calzones. Not Italian-American, but not because this stuff is any less legitimate than Tuscan pappa al pomodoro or the agnolotti of Piedmont. European Italian, but just because my body can handle the lightness of it better. The dishes invented…
When the wheels grind to a halt on Logan’s airstrip and the seatbelt signs go blank, a numbness comes over me. Should I check in as “home” or not? Am I enthusiastic or anxious? Each trip to Boston comes with its own unique ratio of good things to bad things, a mixed bag of past…
That Best Bite 