This past summer my boyfriend and I set out on a cross-country road
trip from Boston to L.A, a drive whose route would transverse America,
and take us to countless places we’d never been before. With only a
few changes of clothes, two sleeping bags and a cooler, we left the
East Coast energetic and idealistic about the trip. The things most
looked forward to: upstate New York in August, the peak of wild flower
season, wheat fields in Iowa and the Rockies once out west, stretched
out ahead of us for weeks on end. I can honestly say that we did see
these things, all of them. Unfortunately, I wasn’t paying much
attention… far too busy reading the Sterns.
My cover of the Sterns’ 2005 edition of “Roadfood” features a close-up of an oozing triple-decker grilled cheese sandwich, the evidence of whose butter-fried preparation proclaims itself from each crispy edge of toast and glistening golden burnt bit. The bread appears to be highly refined, and the cheese orangey processed. In other words: the cover-sandwich looks criminally delicious, the kind you’d find in a favorite diner, or perhaps in one of the 600 odd restaurants, spanning 48 states, that the Sterns describes within. Snappily written reviews of places chosen for their honest cooking, lack of pretense and use of ingredients rated high to higher on the bad-for-you index, make for an addictive read. It’s also a really fun book for sickos to pour over when the trail mix runs out, and the only work of non-fiction I packed on my person when leaving for The Big Move out west.
Paris is one of those cities that gets into your system and stays with you. There is something magical. Magical about the lifestyle, the fashion, the ease of movement, and the food. The food is simple, perfectly crafted, and delicious. I ate my share of eclairs, croissants, baguettes, steak-frites, souffles, crepes, ice cream, and croque monsieur’s. I ate whatever I wanted, when ever I wanted. Boulangeries are in abundance and sneaking in for an eclair or a mille-feuilles is a temptation I wasn’t about to pass up.