Toward the end of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, there's a beautiful scene on the beach in which Kate Winslet's Clementine (moments from potentially being erased from his memory forever) tells Joel (Jim Carrey) "This is it, Joel. I'll be gone soon."
Life is Hard. Eat White Bread. (Recipe)
In the U.S., fascism and racism and anti-semitism and misogyny and xenophobia are back with a vengeance, seemingly emboldened by the current political environment, there's fake news all over the web, propaganda on cable news, the President is, um, problematic.
The Solitary Baker
For the last four months of 2017, I lived alone in Torino, in a random apartment about forty minutes by foot from the bakery where I was located for my stage/internship. Six days a week, I woke up at 2:00 a.m., ate a quick breakfast, and then went out, in the dark, alone, to walk to work.
Italy, Two Years In
Bread & Lard
Two years ago, crammed into a tiny green gazebo at the house of my wife's grandparents in Voronezh, Russia, the simplest of meals somehow changed my life.
Slow Cooking, Slow Eating
Seemingly every day marks the introduction of another way to reduce the time we spend cooking and eating. Thanks, but no thanks.
International Culinary Center: Week One
Assorted thoughts on Week One of the Italian Culinary Experience at the International Culinary Center, with as much coherence as I can muster after the most draining and exhilarating week in recent memory.
A Better Ending
After reading about Zen Hospice and IDEO's initiative to redesign death, my ears have perked up whenever I've come across something that seems to connect. And I guess it struck a nerve because my ears have practically been in perked position ever since.
Insights For Innovation
This Spring, I participated in the inaugural public IDEO U course, "Insights For Innovation." It was a wonderful experience—I've got lots of thoughts on the course itself, but that's for another day. I'd like to unpack some of the insights about the 70-year-old theatergoing public I gathered while working through the lessons
Simple, Small, and Slow
At the door, a man—wielding a large knife—slicing, always slicing. You walk in. Pause. A single question. In Italian at first—then English, if you, like I, seem a little puzzled. But you needn't be. There are only two options. This blunt simplicity has a weird way of translating the Italian in your brain after the fact. "Oh, of course that's what he said," you think.