Last year, on the night before Thanksgiving, I was suddenly struck by the mad desire to make something real for dinner. Never mind that I had a cheesecake to bake and egg whites to whip, all I could think about was removing some of the excess food from the fridge and cluttered counter tops--Delicata squash…
Yesterday I really sang for my supper. By the end of the day (in sum total, two days of preparation), I was Exhausted, Spent, Ready to Fall into Bed and Appreciative of my more than comfortable mattress. More importantly, however, I was pleased that the first Thanksgiving that we had ever hosted had been, by…
Only one place attracted her attention: a small Korean grocery with fruits and vegetables set outside on plywood stands--colorful piles of oranges, tomatoes, and cucumbers, almost unnaturally clean and bright. Nina read the sign on the box of tomatoes: SUNRIPE. She was still learning English, and every new expression seemed exciting and full of great…
We think we know the ones we love. Our husbands, our wives. We know them--we are them, sometimes; when separated at a party we find ourselves voicing their opinions, their taste in food or books, telling an anecdote that never happened to us but happened to them. We watch their tics of conversation, of driving…
Dining with Dostoevsky 