Ever fantasize about going to a dude ranch? Me neither. So how did I come to find myself standing in line, waiting my turn to have lunch ladled onto my tin home-on-the-range style plate?
My grandmother was typically a pretty poor cook. But then she’d knock out a Thanksgiving feast of such perfection that it might have gotten the European invaders to agree not to rip off the Natives. (No, I mean REALLY agree. And keep it.) WTF??? My mom, on the other hand, was usually a great cook. Not so much in the lean years. […]
So far, this blog is chronicling how I came to be interested in the topics of food, sex, love, relationship, health and nature – enough to link them in my book in progress, Licking the Spoon. My first food was breast milk, the best food for an infant, only I don’t remember it. What I do remember was the sexy […]
My first food was breast milk, and I hope yours was, too: A finer cuisine for an infant just does not exist. Add to that the fact that it is usually served up by a chef with soft arms, an hypnotic heartbeat, and loving eyes, and I feel quite fortunate to have ever feasted at such a deli. In fact, the […]