Who Wants a Hotel With a Hallway Anyway?
As for many Americans, motels, for me, have typically been a lodging of convenience. Not places I specifically seek out per se, but
A Family That Runs, Really Fast, Together…
Leap Day, February 29, 2020. Sara and Ryan Hall are in the backseat of an Uber, sitting in traffic—and silence—in downtown Atlanta.
Can California Tourism Survive Climate Change?
“Want to go camping in October?” a friend texted in August. Somewhere pretty, she suggested. Big Sur? “Yes, but …” I replied,
In Defense of Grapefruit Spoons (and Anchovy Forks, and Peanut Butter Knives)
We had two grapefruit spoons when I was growing up. Stragglers, clearly, from somewhere. They sort of scared me: With their sharp
When the Techies Took Over Tahoe
They just kept coming. The day-trippers, Airbnbers, second-home owners, and unmasked revelers. Unleashed after California’s first statewide COVID-19 lockdown ended in late
The Cut: Can I Interest You in a Dogshare?
Maybe I’m a monster, but all the posts of pandemic puppies have annoyed me. As have the calls from friends that precede
Instagram’s Most Fascinating Subculture? Women Hunters.
It’s a dry January, which means two things on this girls’ trip to central Arizona: we’re all skipping the margaritas tonight, and
Welcome to the Usual: An irregular column about regulars in their restaurants — and the roles such places play in the lives of the people they feed.
Published in The San Francisco Chronicle. Illustrated by George McCalman
Challah giving sourdough some competition
Sourdough may be the celebrity loaf of #quarantinelife — and it is delicious and deserves all of the love and care and
On Regulars, in Prime Covid Times
I haven’t had a latte since March 12th. I’m not complaining, merely stating a fact of my coronavirus life. Pre-pandemic, I purchased
The Usual: The Solace of Sol Food
Framed outside the front door of Puerto Rican restaurant Sol Food in San Rafael, is a complaint. Not a Yelp review, but
Diary of My So-Called Homeschool Life
7:51 a.m.: We’re still in bed. Hazel, Oren and I. Typically, at this time on a Tuesday, I’m yelling at my 8-year-old to
