When I was young, it was a special treat to have breakfast for dinner. Whether it was waffles at home or pancakes at the local diner, supper was made special by simply reversing the order of eating. Part of its appeal was the sheer fun of shaking things up, part was that we were breaking the rules. Nowadays, when I want to recreate that childhood tradition, I order a sandwich for dinner.
Read MoreWhat is my aversion to writing about my favorite restaurants? It's not a question of selfishness, and that I want to keep them all to myself for fear of overcrowding. Quite the contrary--I want to scream from the rooftops about their excellence and share unforgettable meals with friends. No, I am afraid that my words won't adequately describe their awesomeness. Like a letter to a new love, I want each sentence to wholly embody my emotions, yet fret about misinterpretation. To quell my fear, I'm going to take a cue from teenagers, who use pictures, not words, to express their adoration (see: sexting)
Read MoreBrooklyn. Whether you love it or love to hate it, it is the holy grail for explorers of the edible. Throughout the borough, ethnic enclaves serve up regional fare: Russians in Brighton Beach, Hasidic Jews in Williamsburg, and Italians in Carroll Gardens. Let's focus on the latter, a neighborhood I once called home. In Carroll Gardens, the streets are peppered with old-school Italian joints, pastry shops, and seasoned butchers, whose friendly paesanos affectionately call you "sweetie" without any hint of sexism. While authenticity & flavor abound, you also get big portions, affordable prices, and the simple joy of knowing that your dollar is helping a local business.
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