– I have given up trying to get to Patisserie Valerie, which everyone and their brother tells me is the best bakery/dessert chain in London. Maybe it is. I wouldn’t know. Every time I’ve tried to grab a seat at their shops, I’ve been treated like one of the following: a leper some sort of…
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…
– Pok Pok, for a lot of people in the northwest, is probably old news. When I first visited it a little over a year ago at the recommendation of my friend Jessica, it was still relatively obscure. The repetitive name did not hang on the lips of northwest foodies like a whisper to a…
– Munich was sunlit and warm when we visited a few weeks ago. So warm, in fact, that Rand and I – along with hundreds of other folks – were able to eat lunch outside at Viktualienmarkt downtown (I believe we were at the Schlemmermaier Sausage Stand, a name I cannot read, much less say,…
– I am constantly thinking that I know best. My viewpoint can be so myopic that I have to make a concerted, agonizing effort to see the other side of things. I approve comments on the blog from people with whom I disagree. I travel around, meeting people who see things – and live life…
– I probably shouldn’t have dragged them all that way. If I had a conscience, I’d feel guilty, but I got rid of mine sometime around the 10th grade, when I let a boy touch my boobs for the first time. Thank goodness for that. The conscience-ridding, I mean. The boob-touching was less to rave…
– In high school, I ate fast food nearly every day. While my colon now involuntarily spasms at the thought, I lunched at Burger King on Mondays through Fridays for the better part of my junior and senior years. And yet, miraculously, I was far thinner than I am now. It was clearly a superpower…
– It’s mid-January, and I find myself thinking about ice cream.
Is it possible to make something truly wonderful (and fattening) even more wonderful (and also more fattening)? Of course. This is America, damn it. Where we don’t take “no” or “that’s irresponsible from a dietary standpoint” for an answer. Where we take our dessert with an extra side of dessert. Behold: – These are the…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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