Glamorous

My mom made this apple cake often. But oddly enough, my most distinct memory of it comes from our first Lyon apartment, perched atop an Italian restaurant in a plaza whose fountain burbled no more. Whenever someone waxes rhapsodic about the glamor of France, my mind drifts to uneven wooden floors that groaned and sighed…

Inauguration Day

Well, I’ve always wanted to start a food blog. Nah, actually in kindergarten I wanted to be a doctor and have two guitars because (a) my dolls were such cooperative patients and (b) my dad played the guitar and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. Why two guitars? To one up my dad,…