A not-Cajun sandwich on a flight from Paris to London.
Category: Air Travel
A person could love Weetabix in that way you love the familiar, the comforting, the stuff of childhood, the stuff your mother made you eat until you forgot your first reaction to it and it became a welcome part of your everyday life and then later, the fabric of childhood memories and the feeling that all that is right with the world.
Something in this Food & Wine magazine will be on our table this weekend during our quiet time in the mountains of Colorado.
flying in the rain hoping throughout the journey to land in the sun Update (a couple of hours later) I posted this super-quickly because the plane was about to take off. I didn’t have time to muse that this simple haiku is a metaphor for […]
Beets: they look pretty, but they taste like dirt. And they do not belong in a sandwich on an airplane.