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I played hockey when I was a child. All four of us did, even my sister, though she never got past the stage of pushing around milk cartons. I was horrible at hockey — specifically, I was horrible at stick work. I was not horrible for lack of trying; I was horrible for lack of…
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is waiting for your dog to hurry up and pee already before the nice man combing through your neighbor’s recycling gets to yours.
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…was a phrase I wrote today, and then I realized that while I knew what the phrase meant (“a state of [painful] nervousness over a future event”), I didn’t know what a tenterhook was. I wasn’t even sure it was “tenTerhook” and not “tenDerhook.” The T has it. A tenterhook is a long, crude-looking hook use…
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A while back, I stumbled upon a wonderful roundup of 11 untranslatable words on the travel site Maptia. My favorite was the German word waldeinsamkeit, which roughly translates to “the feeling of being alone in the woods” — though the Italian culacchino, “the mark left on a table by a cold glass” — has also come…
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New York–you’re supposed to flee it in the summer, that cesspool, that great unwashed. But come evenings, I don’t know why you would. New York on a summer’s Eve is a dream world, soft and tucking magic round its corners. Tonight, we went to the new Whitney, a place designed impossibly cool, in the blingiest…
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When I stepped outside yesterday morning, the air was heavy and warm, like a washcloth recently wrung. I hesitated on my stoop. I was, firmly, in Brooklyn, brownstoned and magnolia’ed, rust-painted steps beneath my feet, and across the street sprawled Lafayette Avenue Presbytarian, that giant ochre pile. In Brooklyn and then, without straining, I caught a whiff of…
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Vietnam was my first really far-flung trip, and my bravest one – not because of the near-antipodal distance or the language barrier or the constant ribboning rush of motorbikes, but because it threatened, and sometimes succeeded, to fuck with my daily exercise. In the fall and early winter of 2007, I lived in Paris. If…
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My god, the coffee in Vietnam! Iced, that is. Here’s how you have it: Wake at 6:30 or so (because that is when you normally wake up. just kidding!). Dress yourself in whatever, something airy, not too strappy (conservative dressers here). Spring out into a back alley milky with sunlight. The alley is not yet…
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Vietnamese food is typified by bright, fresh flavors and an abundance of textures, jumbled like a yardsale or neatly layered, depending on the dish and the eater’s predilection for stirring. The lightness and price point – $1-3 per meal – is conducive to experimentation: we tended to order by sight or smell or queue size,…
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Edible Green Mountains was kind enough to let me wax, at length, about my love for a small, small-batch sour beer bred and blended in Weston, Vermont. Read the full thing here, and then find some excuse to drive through south-central Vermont (there are plenty) so you can pick up a bottle or ten. When I…
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