In which the Chef becomes an American citizen in age of Trump, we eat Cajun food and visit my enthusiastic 89-year-old mother in her nursing home. More than a "snack attack," a meditation on what it means to become a citizen for my husband, for me and for my old American mom (with some thoughts on gumbo and po' boys thrown into the stew!
Read More"Everyday I spend trying to keep the inexplicable from oozing out of the everyday sandwich I make." I wrote this in my journal in high school. Sandwich as metaphor. I'm 58. Give me the sandwich. Hold the metaphor. And for that matter hold the arugula. Hold the avocado, the sprouts, the fancy condiments and even the tomato. Just ham + cheese + mayo + mustard on two factory cut slices of Pepperidge Farm 12-grain bread. In early days of the New Year I had a sudden craving for just such a sandwich. Why?
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