As she apportioned, wrapped, and accepted payment for the food, I briefly wondered if I'd been recognized (for those who don't know, I've worked as a restaurant critic). I felt disproportionally IMPORTANT. She was paying way too much attention to me. Was she coming on to me? I couldn't tell. It was weird, though certainly anything but uncomfortable.
I rushed the food to my car, where I dipped in my fork for a quick taste, and that same brute force halo of attention and love roared forth. The young guys were correct. This is some extraordinarily sexy food. Oh my.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
I just posted my account, on Chowhound, of Mami's, a Latino Steam-table in White Plains. Here's an excerpt:
- ► 2016 (202)
- ► 2015 (130)
- Improved Albatrosses and Red Herrings
- Our Albatrosses are Red Herrings
- You're Old, Part 745
- People Don't Fucking Listen
- More TV Show Gushing
- More on Chowhound's Policy Shift
- How to use food sites as chowhounding tools
- Chowhound's Coup de Grace
- Breakfast Cereal and the Vicious Circle of Untimel...
- Oedipal Poultry
- ▼ August (10)
- ► 2013 (165)
- ► 2012 (209)
- ► 2011 (193)
- ► 2010 (175)
- ► 2009 (239)