Today’s piece in the Times, laid my soul bare like a duck split at the breastbone…
Now you meet a friend for a single beer, and you immediately start talking about weekday versus weekend menus. The conversation builds from there into recipes, bold food choices, cooking techniques and equipment, and the importance of timing. Then you both rush off to prepare for dinner, whose reward is the appreciative moans of your hard-working womenfolk. Male status contests are no longer about bringing home the bacon. They’re about how much bacon you should use in a successful bucatini all’amatriciana.
Best thing I’ve read in a while. Fantastic.