Aiji is a taxi driver. He is also the founder of the first burrito bar in Rwanda and a vegan chef. For right now, it’s the taxi while he’s between ventures. Aiji also seems to be the only taxi driver in New Orleans, as he randomly picked up me and my colleagues again at the New Orleans Museum of Art. I stayed in an Air BnB in the Marigny. The apartment was at the back of a shotgun house on Mandeville Street and was completely passable, if a bit worn. A balcony slumped from my

‘Tis the season for illness. Cooking tomes of the past often included a chapter of recipes to be made for the ill and infirm. Certainly, our need for something comforting remains, but general folklore shared today mentions chicken soup, ginger ale, toast, and saltines. Consider these recipes from Fifty Years in Maryland Kitchen (1881) by Mrs. B. C. Howard. Be well. #domestic #history #illness #FiftyYearsinaMarylandKitchen #homeremedies #foodways #home #cooking #food #Maryland

Christmas generally takes us to Maryland. While the Amtrak train I take travels over the Pennsylvania Railroad into Baltimore’s Penn Station, here’s a Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Royal Blue Line menu from Christmas Day, 1900. The selections are fun and shine in comparison to what you can have on Amtrak today. Would you trust an oyster onboard Amtrak? Creme Yvette is a violet liqueur that incorporates blackberries, red raspberries, cassis, wild strawberries, orange peel, vanil

More often than not, even the cheapest little roadside offering in France blows the socks off of much of what you can get in the United States. After my summer blogging hiatus, I have a few things to catch up on. Some funny juxtapositions on fooding from Paris to L’Indre et Loire. And be sure to check my post on the sumptuous Loches market. Fish mousse. A divine meal at Terroir Parisien. 20 rue St. Victor, Paris. We went for lunch, very relaxed. Spring vegetables and veal. Th

Schrafft’s at 155 E. 79th Street as it appeared in 1944. A “Rat Poison” sign appeared on the front door of 155 East 79th street. Generally, that’s the sign that indicates death is close at hand. Obviously the rats are going to kick it. But it’s the building that is coming down next. Certainly, we were in a historic preservation district, next to Lexington Ave, right? And this building, a former Schrafft’s Restaurant with a marble facade, was iconic enough to spare replacement

Could the US have a program of “The Most Beautiful Villages” as France does? Dr. V and I, and friends Jeremy W. of Le Cafe Witteveen and the lovely Tina S., spent about a week in the Indre et Loire, a stone’s throw from Montresor, named one of the “Les Plus Beaux Villages” in France. And it is breathtaking. The village below the chateau. RL Fifield. There are ancient cottages connected by small green paths and streams, best visible from the gardens atop a rocky promontory whe

Dr. V, Jeremy Witteveen, (of Le Cafe Witteveen), and Tina Serafini and I all decamped to France in June. Our cheery, sunny French vacation was mostly cloudy and frequently chilling during an unusually cold and rainy summer. No matter! We explored the country side south of the Loire Valley, making the tiny hamlet of Beaumont-Village and my friend Ms. B’s parents’ house our base of operations (you can rent it at airbnb). In this corner of France, every view is beautiful. Nearby

I recently visited my great uncle, Uncle B, in Arizona. Having left our ancestral seat for a life of western adventure in 1947, we don’t have all that much in common. However, as conversations meander in and out of the present and past, interesting cultural gems emerge, such as foodways, stories of prize winnings at The Graw racetrack in Havre de Grace, and hard work. While the 1991 film Fried Green Tomatoes brought that dish roaring back to the table, I have yet to see my fa

Stitchers inside Dewey Memorial Hall, Sheffield, Massachusetts. Sheffield resident Lisa R. and I met through Revolutionary War reenacting. Looking for ways to extend the fellowship of the hobby outside of encampments and to coax local crafters out of their homes, Lisa scheduled a couple of dates for a community sewing/craft day at Dewey Memorial Hall in Sheffield, Massachusetts. Where she will demonstrate the versatility of different machines and techniques, we recommend Quil

At this point during the winter, I start to get the itch for digging in the dirt. Alas, it’s a rather pointless itch as I must confine my green thumb activities to a few boxes hanging from the windows of my Manhattan apartment. But as I pointed out in my post on 18th century year-round gardening, seasonal gardening is a luxury. In the past, each month had purpose in tending the supply of vegetables to the family, whether tending to wintering crops, fostering seed, or getting

After a boozy brunch with Dr. V’s cousins, we wandered up the sunny side of the street to Grand Central Terminal, celebrating its 100th anniversary this year. The kiosks were great. You can ask about various GCT topics at the push of the button. When they aren’t talking, they just look around and look bored. A former customer service manager relates that GCT before the renovation was “a hell hole.” RL Fifield 2013. The former waiting room space is used for exhibitions and eve

Knowing that my time in Montreal was short, I had my dinners planned out when I hit the ground. The cold weather gave me some leeway for big meals – or so I felt. Fish Ploughman’s lunch at Taverne Square Dominion. I arrived at 11pm on Wednesday, so I quickly got myself over to the Taverne Square Dominion. There were a few parties cleaning up supper, and enjoying the tavern’s cocktails. A highlight of their offerings, the bar is strewn with antique glassware, bitters, and othe

I had extra time to kill in the airport on Friday night. My flight fell right over the dinner hour and I’d had an early lunch. Airport offerings are hardly lauded (Food and Wine Magazine did do an article on good eats at airports, but alas, I wasn’t at any of their featured locations). I wanted to sit, not grab and go and eat on my lap. My two options were mostly the same, offered the same fare, and had primarily the same populations sitting in them: men. I parked myself with

I spent a day in Montreal, QC last week. I had forgotten how cold it can be up north.  I quickly relearned that northerners find ways to snake through buildings and basements to get from point to point. Here are some of my travel notes from last Thursday: Cords, shirt, thick sweater, run jacket, down parka, hat, hood, two pairs of gloves, hike socks, hike boots. That all was pretty good, except thighs would go so numb that I couldn’t feel them move. I stopped in Ogilvy’s on S

I love the word vernacular. You can stuff all that’s particular to a specific region into the term. Can’t explain it any other way? It must be vernacular. New York Puddle Ducks. Mallards in Central Park. RL Fifield 2013. Puddle duck is the term my grandfather used to describe mallard ducks. In so many community ponds, mallards are the only ducks bobbing on the surface. I grew up as part of a tidewater Maryland family. My grandfather carved approximately 1,500 duck and goose d

The NYSL has old fashioned stacks, and up on Stack 11, I had been peering through books about railroad station design (alas, I did not bring home a book on the destruction of Pennsylvania Station – too depressing). Around the corner, I found the tome of The Silver Spoon. I didn’t have an extra bag to haul it and the 4 other books I wanted. I knew I’d get a little prod from the lady at the front desk to take a bag from them. They rightly want to protect their books. Feeling st

At the risk of overloading my regular readers with posts on Germany, I’ll simply post a couple of photos from Christmas Markets in Munich and Bonn. Many of the central city Christmas markets mostly cater to tourists now, but alternative “local” markets have sprung up. The Tollwood Winter Festival takes place on Theresienwiese, in Munich (unfortunately, it doesn’t open until 2pm on weekdays, so I had to miss this). On of my colleagues at Bonn mentioned that there is a more cra

I had a terrible time finding restaurants on this trip. But unless I’m feeling frisky for meat-centered meals (unlikely), I usually target vegetarian restaurants in many European countries. Spinach sorrel crepes. Prinz Myshkin, Munich. RL Fifield 2012. Viewing shopfronts on a walk down the street, one would think Germans eat nothing but pastry, coffee, and beer. The Christmas Market in Bonn was swinging with vendors of sausage and baked goods. My little hotel was in a residen

Caraway and Salt Flatbreads from Agata & Valentina, NYC. RL Fifield 2012. Caraway. It’s lyrical. It’s herbal, savory, and astringent. My French friends confuse it for a cumin seed.  It evokes strong feelings of admiration or disgust, depending on whose palate is assessing it. And it’s one of my favorite flavorings. When I was a child, caraway appeared solely in rye bread and in sauerkraut on Thanksgiving (yes, Marylanders include sauerkraut on their Thanksgiving table, and I

My brother Mr. F is Cleveland’s Man about Town. During my May visit, he toured me around a number of sites and neighborhoods, including Shaker Square, downtown, Detroit Seaway, and Cleveland’s West Side Market. West Side Market. RL Fifield 2012. I knew zip about Cleveland, beyond its being the butt of many jokes – most of these, I found out, are told by people from Ohio. Sure, Cleveland suffered the same blight that most cities have suffered over the last 60 years of anti-urb