I was sitting at a bar in central South Dakota the other night chatting with the barkeep – an amiable half Jewish, half native American, sports loving ex-convict from St. Louis, via Missoula, Richmond, VA and the Bronx – when the conversation shifted, naturally, to our partners. I am in a commuter marriage between Chicago
Author: Ken Carlton
I have tall ravenous boys. When they are hungry they rip through the fridge and pantry like locusts. Patience is not their virtue. Their starving eyes fill me with guilt, even as they bury themselves in their phones and Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. Sometimes you need a quick culinary fix. A Ramen packet boils
There are certain go-to recipes that I return to again and again. And they frequently don’t make a lick of sense. You can go to any good deli or specialty store and pick up a pound of this luxurious fish for about twenty bucks. Why go to all the trouble to make it yourself? One?
Something happened! Oscar Night used to be a televised homage to the people who made films. It was their night, and Hollywood’s night, and we were invited to tag along. If there was a red carpet celebration, I can barely recall. What the celebrities wore was a matter of casual observation. The length of the
When I heard the news that iconic fashion figure Karl Lagerfeld had died, I bolted up in bed. I am hardly the fashion plate; I don’t run in those circles. But my friend Chef John DeLucie does and he had a story. Many years ago John and I wrote a book called THE HUNGER, about
We shared bug juice at Camp Watitoh! As little kids, we plucked raw chopped meat out of the mixing bowl when our Mom was making meatballs. I got my sister Karen her first job in publishing. She introduced me to my first wife. We’ve shared a lot as siblings, including numerous cross country moves, the
Answer? The one where you walk by the window and are drawn inexorably in as if by some strange cyclonic force. For me – hardly a shopper at heart – that means Fishs Eddy, the dishes, plates, mugs vintage everything-ware emporium at Broadway and 19th Street, steps from Union Square. In a world drowning in
We are the generation that is never going to age. We are trekking through Thailand for our fiftieth and helicopter skiing and learning to cook in a yurt on the Tibetan plain. Our parents bestowed us with education and confidence and this unwavering belief that the world is our oyster, merely there for the taking.
I stand alone as the only New Yorker who never does takeout. Why? Short answer: I like my food hot. Few dishes travel well. And I consider cooking therapy. Given the choice of tipping some dude five bucks to hike up to my fifth floor walkup with a sack of congealed fries versus cranking up
A continuing series on separation survival from those who have bravely gone there before you. The ink on the settlement is long dry. The anger has dissipated. You’ve returned to the dating fold. My god, you’re having sex again (finally) – with someone who is not your ex! The list of Things You Never Expected