I admit it. I am a food snob. A nose in the stratosphere prig when it comes to food. And that sometimes presents problems. Major problems. The first Mexican dish I ever ate was a taco. Well, OK, this taco wasn’t really Mexican. But I thought it was. I was sure it was....
“Pokhlebkin and the Soviet Union are dead, yet Borshchland lives on. Recipes, like birds, ignore political boundaries … The faint outline of the Tsarist-Soviet imperium still glimmers in the collective steam off bowls of beetroot and cabbage in meat stock, and...
When mighty roast beef was the Englishman’s food, It ennobled our brains and enriched our blood. Our soldiers were brave and our courtiers were good. Oh! the roast beef of old England. Roast beef is in my blood. I was born in England…in Hereford, no less, home...
Featuring the photography of Marshall Postnikoff. It was fourteen years ago, my first time ever in San Miguel. I fell instantly, deeply, madly in love with the town and I wanted to know more about it. I wanted to explore every inch of it. There was a sign in the...
It was the first bottle of wine I ever bought. A rosé. Turner’s Rosé. You see they didn’t ask for ID at the Turner’s shop. And Turner’s Rosé was $1.30 a bottle, the cheapest bottle of wine anywhere in town. I graduated to Mateus (loved the shape of the hip flask...
There are four things that are important when judging a restaurant. The food. The service. The ambience. The value. The relative importance of each though varies on who is doing the judging. I am a foodie and, as a foodie, I will tolerate leaky tin shacks, snottily...
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