Food writer is a job description that's easy to digest. Everyone, it seems, eats. Cocktail in hand, chitchat in air, I'm rarely met with blank stare. That's a luxury few astrophysicists share.
And yet, misconceptions abound. Food writing springs from an affinity, not an affliction.
Consider the tack, if not tact, of my physical therapist, a genius with neck or knee. Introducing the exercise du jour, she translates into Epicure. "Pretend there's a baguette attached to your shoulder," she begins, "and you want it level with the countertop." I offer blank stare. "You mean lift my arm?"
I may be weak on gravitational waves, but I'm good with arm and lift.
Also other simple pairings like warm and cool, cooked and raw, sweet and sharp, all of which exercise good form in cold-weather tabbouleh, a wintry take on a summery side.
It's an approach that anyone _ even an astrophysicist _ can grasp.
