The Scent of Cinnamon and Chasing Down Humoral Theory

Purple bougainvillea flowers hung thick and rope-like over the sand-colored walls, their little white hearts nearly pulsating in the blazing noon heat of Rabat, Morocco. The door of The English Bookshop stood half-opened. The stern English proprietor stood behind the counter, his thin pale fingers reaching into scuffed cardboard boxes, filled with the newest shipment of books…

The Power and the Glories of Eating Alone

King Louis XIV did it. M. F. K. Fisher did it. The faceless man in Edward Hopper’s painting, “Nighthawks,” did it. Mr. Bean did it, too. And so did I. Daring to eat a proper meal alone in public probably ranks as one of the few acts that cause normally confident people to quiver a…

The Mysteries of Mustard, with Thanks to the English

“The seede of Mustard pounded with vinegar is an excellent sauce, good to be eaten with any gross meates, either fish or flesh…“ – John Gerard, Herbal or General History of Plants, 1597 American ballpark mustard–that tart, yellow, unctuous friend of hamburgers and hot dogs–does not define prepared or “table” mustard. Oh no, indeed not….

France and America: Why Paris Haunts Us So

It’s been several days now, the media stream moves onward, darting here and there to other news, other disasters. And yet I remain static, stuck, still mulling over the attacks on Paris, mourning the loss of all those lives, as well as the so-very-French joie de vivre. Why does Paris haunt me, and others, so? In the hours and…