I did it for you, dear reader. I did it all for you. I did something
I vowed I would never do. Not in a million years. But there I was in
Verona. City of Romeo and Juliet. City of beauty. And after seeing so
many beautiful things, one does get a bit peckish. And all the
guidebooks recommended the same thing: horse. It’s a specialty of the
area. So when Jim and I found ourselves at the local restaurant
perusing the menu, there it was, staring us in the face: smoked horse
with arugala salad. There was also pasta with a donkey ragú on the menu
like it was the most normal thing in the world to eat these equines. “
I guess we had better try it,” said Jim. “Really?” “Yeah. How bad can
it be?” He said nonchalantly. I could sense a challenge. “OK, go ahead
order it.” “Ok, I will,” he countered, adding, “and we’ll share it.” I
took a large gulp of my prosecco and waited anxiously for the dish to
arrive.
It’s not as though I am vegetarian or even a vegan. It’s not as though I grew up riding horses through the British countryside or fox hunting, thank God. But I suppose the prospect of eating horse is like eating dog. i.e. eating a pet. Although to be honest I’m not much of a dog person either. I prefer cats. And thankfully no one ever talks about eating cats. OK, maybe in Asia But nonetheless horses and dogs are our friends: we feed them, we take care of them and there is something about turning around, killing them and eating them that seems rather upsetting. A ‘Charlotte’s Web’ syndrome, if you will.
Olympia is a charming little city in the Pacific Northwest, set down on rolling hills surrounded by forests of Douglas-fir, bigleaf maple and red cedar – a pretty, speckled egg resting in a nest of twigs.
This is Downtown Olympia, with its century-old buildings, its perfectly-proportioned Capitol, its tree-lined streets on which people drive politely and you can always find a place to park – often without a meter – near the still-family-run bookstore or café or bike shop you want to go to.
Every culture has fried dough--German Berliners, Italian zeppole, French beignets, and Indian balushahi--but none can top the gut-busting pleasure of the American donut. It's the latest iconic food to undergo a renaissance; here are our picks for the best classic and newfangled donut purveyors across the country. 
Who says you can’t go home again? I just did and am here to testify that though it was a bit strange, it was more than wonderful to return to the place I lived in 41 years ago. Planning my recent trip back east where I would be staying with family and two of my oldest and dearest girlfriends, I decided to start off my trip by staying in a hotel for a few nights. After checking the rates in our two favorite New York hotels, The Regency and The Surrey and catching my breath I decided to look at a few other options.