I may live alone, but this does not mean that I eat alone. When dining I am often flanked by attentive men and cheerful ladies catering to my every whim. This throng of helpful hands is not a gathering of family members who live close by and come by for Sunday dinners or friends for whom I throw elaborate dinner parties. They are waiters and waitresses and busboys in any of the number of establishments I frequent. Living alone and being culinary challenged lends itself to a lot of eating out, or ordering in, as the case may be. Because of my extensive knowledge of eating in stark contrast to the lack of cooking know how I thought I would share some of my dining experiences with the public and tell the tales of a woman’s quest for the perfect maduro. (read more)
march 2011
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