Fresh figs. A juicy roast chicken. A good strong cocktail at the end of a long day. A piece of dark chocolate with orange peel. Homemade pistachio ice cream. Popovers hot out of the oven, with apricot jam. Letting someone do the ordering. The first meal in a new country. Stews in the winter, anything grilled in the summer. The dumpling shop in Chinatown, the $2 slice of pizza, the cider donuts at the greenmarket, a lazy lunch, the chef’s counter, watching them do all the work. The cheese course. The sound of champagne being popped, of wine being decanted, of coffee brewing in the morning.
A table of friends and family, laughing, eating, drinking. That’s a good life.
That is why I write this blog.
I write it for my parents, who by feeding me so well, made me love and respect food.
I was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts and have been a New Yorker, a proud, enthusiastic New Yorker, since 2004. Currently, I am serving as fashion editor of the Improper Bostonian, and am a freelance writer.
contact me: firstname.lastname@example.org