Barcelona. November, 2012

Dawn. So quiet and beautiful. And, making it even better, you’re in Barcelona. I would get up somewhat early, have coffee, then head out for an early run through the old medieval streets of the Barri Gòtic, over through the El Born neighborhood and into the Parc de la Ciutadella, up and down and all around its elaborate fountains. And then back, just in time to shower and, after another coffee, start in on a lazy day’s activities. 

Athens. October, 2011

The first time I had anything called “Greek sausage” was many years ago at the Town Diner in Coolidge Square, Watertown, MA, the town in which I now live. The diner has changed hands from the original Greek owners to a neighbor of mine who’s made it into a popular and spiffed-up bit of nostalgia...with better food. I liked it then, I like it now. And they still offer “Greek sausage” as part of their breakfast menu. With the pieces of orange peel in it as I remember from my first taste. Here in Athens at the central market, I tried to identify that sausage of revered memory...but with so many varieties on offer, and an different alphabet to boot, no luck. I’d put my money on the long variety in the upper right. But I bet they’re all good.

Milos, Greece. October, 2011

No matter where I travel, I always wind up at the cemetery. Sometimes deliberately, sometimes, as here in Milos, by chance. Jay and I hiked up to the town at the top of the island this quiet and sunny Sunday morning, and along the way passed friendly goats, deserted neighborhoods (people were in church, or sleeping?) and this whitewashed graveyard. More basic and stark than those I’ve visited in Paris, Mexico, New Orleans and Istanbul, it seemed to fit in just right with the sunbleached houses on this tiny isle.

Athens. October, 2011

Welcome to the fish market in central Athens. This photo doesn’t even begin to approximate the crowded madness of the place. Hardly any room to walk, filled with shoppers (and a few intrepid tourists) and a crowd-enforced baby-step procession that comes to a complete halt when some in the line stops to buy something. Jay went nuts. I tried, unsuccessfully, to get a good picture. Instead, just a crazy memory. I liked it. He didn’t.

Athens. October, 2011

My two goals in Athens: See the Parthenon. Taste some gyros. Score! Seen here (in the capable hands of Dr. Blake), some post-Parthenon lunch from the acclaimed Sabbas just off Monastiraki Square. So good. And don’t think for a minute that the pigeon in the picture got any of it.

Barcelona. November, 2012

Pimientos de Padrón. Seen here in La Boqueria, Barcelona’s central market. And seen on virtually every tapas menu in Spain. Fried, salted and delivered tasty and green, they sometimes carry a surprise message. Every once in awhile, these sweet little guys give way to an errant picante one. You can tell when this happens to someone else because they grab for their water glass. And you can tell when it happens to you, well, in a more incendiary way.

New York, NY. May, 2010

My friend Karen forwarded an article to me recently about certain NYC restaurants that no longer permit diners to photograph their food. It allegedly disturbs others. Well, as most of the places mentioned in the article are somewhat upscale, I don’t think I have to worry. And even though David Chang has some pretty high-up-there eateries in Manhattan, his original spot, Momofuku, still has a casual, funky charm. Not only that, it has these magnificent steamed pork buns, too. Click.