A San Miguel breakfast. For a guy who doesn’t eat breakfast.

A San Miguel breakfast. For a guy who doesn’t eat breakfast.

I rarely eat breakfast. It’s not that I don’t like breakfast. It’s more that it doesn’t like me. You see I’ve always been a pudgy guy and I’ve never liked being a pudgy guy. Not only that, my favorite breakfasts all contain a huge quantity of two of my favorite things...
San Miguel elects a new prime minister of beef.

San Miguel elects a new prime minister of beef.

Say the two words Sunday dinner and I will reply with the two words roast beef. There is no stronger food tradition in my life. No family food event so memorable. When I was growing up, beef at six was as predictable as Ed Sullivan at eight. And when I flew the roost,...
Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. I smell a pho that’s not ho hum.

Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. I smell a pho that’s not ho hum.

Don Day’s Wife and I divide our lives almost equally between Toronto and San Miguel de Allende, two, obviously, very different cities. But what we eat in each of those cities varies very little. With one very big exception. In Toronto, a week rarely goes by where we...
Santo Cuviso. Turning saints into sinners since 1756.

Santo Cuviso. Turning saints into sinners since 1756.

I knew Gunther Maier the photographer. I knew Gunther Maier the foodie. I knew Gunther Maier the art director. I knew Gunther Maier the fancier of fast cars and aficionado of vintage Indian bikes. Recently, however, I learned about another Gunther, Gunther Maier the...