Bo-bo-botie!

Not that long ago — at least so it seems to aging me — any recipe that wasn’t “haole” was “exotic.” African was exotic. Indian was exotic. South American was exotic. Last week, when I was in Anchorage, I bought a cookbook that recalled...

The not-so-silent supermarket scream

When I was a newspaper travel editor, I came to the conclusion that something about coming into possession of an eTicket caused people to forget the rules of civilized behavior, consumed by the conviction that “the rules can’t possibly apply to me.”...

If at first . . .

In the whipped cream-light realm of reality TV, “Top Chef” is practically PBS. Conflicts rarely erupt into physical violence. The profanity is rather tame. And people say things like “feel the love” and mean it. (Okay, Carla may be the only one...

Rice dreams…

On a recent trip to Anchorage, I tried coconut rice for the first time. Tender, creamy, coconuty but in an elusive sort of way. Don’t know why I came so late to THAT table. I had to go to Alaska to taste coconut rice??? Next stop in my what-to-blog-about brain:...

Moose and bear

My Alaskan vacation was narrated rather oddly in the stilted accent of the Russian spy, Boris, from TV’s old “Rocky and Bullwinkle” cartoon. But instead of “Moose and Squirrel,” he kept talking about “Moose and Bear.” After a...