red hots



I had the best burger recently. Corner Bistro in the West Village, NYC. Nice soft buns with a burger the size of a Ö Wait, this sounds kind of dirty. Never mind. Iím sorry. I didnít mean to turn you on. As my friend Sigmund might have said, sometimes a deep fried Mars bar is a deep fried Mars bar, you know?

How do food writers write about food without sounding too dirty? What we like, how we like it, how much of it we like, where and when, how it makes us feel. The guilt at times. I mean sex and food are both about desire and sometimes maybe some childhood issues involved deciding what we like and donít like? I donít know.

Did I tell you about the time I had the best banana split ever? In a dining car on a train? And how I took my first bite just as the train entered a tunnel?

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