I want to preserve this old gas station because it feels like preserving myself.
Whether one calls it “adaptation” or “assimilation” is a matter of one’s personal politics. But I—like the food I love—am undoubtedly changing.
While the world has continued to change, Kraft’s product has remained the same, somehow evading inflation at one or two dollars per box.
I felt I had something to prove. But the Manhattan, unchanged since its nineteenth-century origins, has nothing to prove.
What I didn’t say was how much of home each of those packs brought with them.
Lunch-packing videos have shown me that, regardless of your age or your body size or how big of a breakfast you had, we all deserve to eat.
For me, longing for filter coffee and missing my father are one and the same.
Diners are affordable, accessible, and a staple of our national imagination. They’re also disappearing—and we need them now more than ever.
To my family, yams are more than just a root vegetable.
A year in fruitcake means a year soaking in hope and optimism. Committing to the cakes meant believing that we would all see some semblance of survival.