Taken at a bar within the 1939 World’s Fair, the woman in the picture is smoking, drinking and looking a bit melancholy.
As someone who was raised on a foundation of make-it-up-as-you-go, I like the idea that you don’t need 100 years of repetition for something to matter.
Save at the farmers market, get your product on store shelves and get a job.
I would’ve liked to hear a bit more about his food, but the discussion was certainly fascinating without it.
At a recent morning visit to a pleasant, homey café, she was simply not having it.
Unlike the haute critics, he’s built a massive following for seeking out his city’s undersung, unglamorous and affordable food.
I got a chance to commune with my roots last week, at my very first trip to the James Beard House.
“Even the food will amaze you, like if you get any meat dish they’ll cook it in front of you but not on a stove. I know pretty cool right?”
At last night’s Museum of Food and Drink-sponsored panel, very little was black and white.
Among other reasons, you work in Midtown and can’t afford to eat at Michael Jordan’s steakhouse every day.
Turns out my young cousins Geo and Chloe have eaten at many Manhattan restaurants, developing sophisticated judgment along the way.
Let’s be real — living in New York is a challenge, and sometimes it’s good to escape.
