Not only is today the birthday of someone close to me, but it also the anniversary of the eruption of Mount St. Helens. Oh, and ONE OF MY FRIENDS FOUND OUT SHE WAS CANCER FREE THIS MORNING. I am using all of these occasions as excuses to eat lots of cake. What’s that? It’s TINA…
My darling husband has a slightly inflated impression of my foreign language abilities. A haggling session in Cuzco left him believing that my Spanish was far better than it actually is (It’s not that great. I am, however, an awesome haggler). I allow it, of course. We all believe slight exaggerations about our loved ones.…
Recently, I saw my first Banksy. Despite all the trips I’ve taken to London, I’ve managed to miss the provocative street artist’s work. On more than one occasion I’ve walked right passed his creations, failing to notice them at all. That nearly happened again this time, owing to the steak and kidney pie that was…
– I am not a gambler. Should there be any doubts of this, note that I was in Vegas for two whole days and the greatest risk I took in a casino was ordering a savory crepe (don’t do it. Cheese is no substitute for Nutella, and anyone who says otherwise is likely trying to…
It was bound to happen. Rand and I take a lot of photos. But this is basically like spotting bigfoot: – This is a photo of my father. SMILING. Let’s take a closer look, shall we?
When I am hungry while traveling, things go downhill very quickly. I become snappy and irritable and overly-sensitive. In a town like Munich, this can be problematic, because German isn’t exactly a delicate sounding language to begin with. Even when folks are being courteous (which they often are in Bavaria), I want to respond to them in one…
It is sunny out and I AM IN NEW YORK CITY. I really must get off this laptop immediately. So here – links. Enjoy. I must run. ————— “Their hooves grip like high-priced tires.” – The amazing physiology behind the gravity-defying stunts of mountain goats. ————— Short and sweet, this confession from a writer at…
– I have a bladder the size of a chipmunk’s. No, no – stop praising me on how amazing this is. How it’s so ladylike and really quite Hollywood to have a bladder so svelte and small. That Angelina’s or Gwyneth’s is probably barely bigger than my own. Because despite how glamorous it sounds, let…
Bavarian food doesn’t f#ck around. Bavarian food is the guy at the gym in the tiny muscle tee who’s lifting weights so heavy, the veins in his neck and head (and other parts of the body that you didn’t even know HAD veins) start to pop out. Bavaria‘s cuisine is a monster truck. It crumples…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Paperback Available March 11th
Also available in hardcover, e-book, and audiobook from these booksellers:
