I’m jealous. Really jealous. You see there’s this woman in San Miguel de Allende. And she’s written this book about food. Mexican food, no less. Specifically, about one of the most fascinating and bewildering aspects of Mexican food. I’m talking about all of those...
You always know when you’re nearing a Mexican village anytime during the morning; there is that unmistakable smell of wood smoke intermingled with that of tortillas cooking on the comal, and the rhythmic patting of the hands as the masa is fashioned into...
I’d had a thirst for Ramos Pinto Porto ever since I was about fourteen. A taste for Port at the age of fourteen you’re probably saying? As Desi said to Lucy, “I think you have some explainin’ to do.” No my palate for fortified wine...
No one ever forgets their first time. Do they? Mine was at The Ebony Knight coffee house in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. A place where I used to go to be infatuated by this bucktoothed blonde with flared nostrils and Everest height cheekbones called Joni Anderson....
Don Day’s mother wasn’t exactly fond of organized religion and this despite the fact that one of my father’s cushiest jobs ever was chauffering for a convent in a grand old Austin Princess (the sisters weren’t exactly out every night). My...
Recent Comments