My parents live in Glen Ellen. In the summer, Sonoma is where I flee from San Francisco’s summer fog. Although this side of the wine country might be more white-bread than the city, it’s hardly lacking in Latin flavor. And Highway 12 is where to find it. Highway 12, otherwise…
Everyone knows that a properly-made churro is a thing of beauty: The way I see it, it’s all about ratio. It has to be mostly crispy on the outside (the ribbed, stick shape is the perfect vehicle for this), a little bit creamy on the inside, overall a tad chewy,…
The Mercado de la Merced is the largest market in the second largest city in the world (think of it as 18 million mouths to feed). It’s a feast for the eyes and as you approach the market you encouter a riot of noise. As Joe puts it about his…
This post is written by Joe. (And posted by me.) When it comes to Mexico, our chef Telmo is a great traveling companion. While I say stupid things like “foamo” when asking for frothed milk for my coffee (it made sense to me), he speaks impeccable Spanish and never gets…
The last time I was in San Miguel de Allende, I was going through a divorce. It was my first Christmas without my boys and my parents had thought that it would be good for me to get away from it all, so they bought me an airline ticket to…
