[contextly_auto_sidebar] The headline isn't mine, it came as a demand from my longtime eating partner Shelley, who heard me complain yet again about one of her beloveds -- this particular paragon presenting as fat, limp, edible. "Make 'I Hate Burritos' the title of your book, it will fly off the shelves." On wings of beans? What an inviting image, so inimical to the burrito itself, a blimp that can't get off the ground, no less burst into tasty flame. Burritos are the opposite of flight and, in a telling way, the opposite of cooking. … [Read more...]
‘Dirt Always Wins’ (Part Five) — Pay Dirt
Now I was set up in San Diego, studying English and American literature because a really nice professor I knew with the odd first name of Sacvan – yes, Sacco and Vanzetti, plus his parents named his red-diaper sister “Ninel,” which took me forever to figure out – said anyone could do it, could do lit, and he eased my path. Hard to know in retrospect if he had been kidding. How would I make a living? Teach Jane Austen and Karl Marx to sun-dappled surfers, whom I knew had something to teach me, though I didn’t yet know what. Supplement that … [Read more...]