Your friendly food geek ventures to the Art Institute to check out their new food-centric exhibit, “Art and Appetite.”
I don’t drink coffee, as a rule. (The rule being “Coffee makes Nicole insane.”) Coffee is like a Hummer with an AK-47 mounted to the top of it. It gets the job done, but there’s bound to be collateral damage.
Proust had his madeleine and tea. I have flavored whiskey and falling leaves.
Brunch now means a whole new thing
How had the superstorms become sentient, anyway? Global warming? Fukushima fallout? Terrorists? God? And if they were actually intelligent, why did they leave notes that read like Tweets from stoned teenagers? Nobody really knew. Life went on, in the meantime, amidst the debates, the preparations, and the prayers.
Full stomachs and silliness on the road to nowhere. (Come on and ride.)
My disaster preparedness plans definitely include removing myself from the proximity of Tea Party suburban commandos and their lethally-guarded stockpiles of V-8.
From the visual and culinary to word and story, writer Nicole Cipri throws into a writer’s relief the Starving Artist 2013.
I have a lot of feelings about tea, and maybe some general anti-authoritarian issues. Hopefully that explains why I got pissy when a cafe tried to exert absolute control over my tea-drinking experience.
On May 22, 2011, after a random text exchange with an old friend, I moved to Chicago instead of France. My Gozamos bio still says that I recently landed in the city, as if I were a migratory bird blown off course, who liked the city well enough to build a nest and roost in it.
In which your friendly food geek happily lets some of Chicago’s best chefs assault her taste buds. (Or, why some food tastes like a horror movie, and that’s a good thing.)
In which your humble food geek moonlights as a book nerd. (Or maybe it’s the other way around.)