This is from 2014. The grainy photo is from 1973 or so, courtesy Rich Compton.
In a memoir, Anthony Bourdain shared with us that he recalls precisely the moment he decided to become a chef. While working in the kitchen of a middle-of-the-road seafood joint in Provincetown, Massachusetts, serving a large wedding party of which the bride was good friends with Tony’s chef-boss, he and his scullery mates peered out … [read more]
My cat leaps to a height relative to his that would be, for me, twelve feet or more, many times a day, beginning not from a run, but from stillness. When he does so, he has no idea what the landing will be like or what to expect. He simply can’t see that high to … [read more]
She lay on the pavement as the sun rose, her eyes present and wild. She gasped and her tongue hung loosely from her open mouth as she bled out. Her spindly legs twitched and she uttered faint sounds, a mule deer’s death rattle. Tufts of fur were strewn along the road for thirty feet where … [read more]
Natalie Goldberg instructs us to, in the beginning, simply keep our hands moving, whether with pen in hand or two hands quivering over a keyboard, no editing allowed, not even punctuation or correcting spdrelling, just keep moving, don’t stop, even if you haven’t an idea, just go…if all you can come up with is … [read more]
I’m no gourmet. I grew up on fish sticks for Friday dinners, waffles, pan-fried chicken, creamed peas and potpies. I understand a little about good cuisine, but like with wine, where I am very clear what I prefer but know little about it, I am hopeless when it comes to having the encyclopedic knowledge of … [read more]