Morgan Childs

We live in the age of the dietary neologism, from the flexitarian to the freegan. So it was only a matter of time before the world was introduced to the veggan, or the egg-eating vegan. Is that a contradiction in terms? You bet. But these meat-and dairy-eschewing vegetarians have four major justifications for making an occasional exception for eggs.

For a bag of pork rinds, a can of coke, and a taste of a little local twang, any old gas station in the American South will do. But while there are plenty of filling stations peddling processed food and cheap souvenirs, only a few are destinations in and of themselves. Infinitely hard to classify, each of these sprawling pit stops is one part rest stop, one part restaurant, and one part souvenir shop.

There are plenty of reasons you might want to hole up inside and slip away to the pleasures of a really good movie. Maybe you’re tired of the news. Maybe you’re sick of the cold weather. Maybe you’re actually physically sick with a cold. We feel you — February can be brutal. If escapism is your aim, we’ve got you covered. Here are seven delectable food-focused movies to get you through the dog days of winter, each from a different country around the world.

Stocked with cornmeal and grits, various hot sauces, pickles and preserves, and a handle or two of bourbon, the Southern pantry is an object of fascination for many chefs north of the Mason-Dixon line. But a cuisine that’s fueled by fats demands a fair bit of climate-controlled real estate, too. Sneak a peak into any Southerner’s refrigerator, and you’re likely to see these five key ingredients for cooking seriously comforting Southern fare.

In America, there’s no place like home for the holidays. But all across Europe, the early months of winter bring locals out of their houses and into the streets to shop and stroll and taste seasonal treats at the holiday markets. In Prague, pork browns on a spit roast; in Copenhagen, Danes eat jam-filled ebelskiver doughnuts; and in Germany, they drink. Nowhere are the libations as numerous — or as strong — as at a German Christkindlmarkt.

This month, we’re delighted to share four essays from The Artists’ and Writers’ Cookbook about the power of a simple bowl of soup. Writer Padgett Powell continues our series today with his recipe for gumbo.

This month, we’re delighted to share four essays from The Artists’ and Writers’ Cookbook about the power of a simple bowl of soup. Today, bestselling author Alice Hoffman shares a family recipe for a life well-lived. Run away from men on horseback. Don’t breathe. Don’t cry out. Be silent and wait till they ride on. Then follow the path through the woods. Make sure there are potatoes in your suitcase. Ice can be melted from the river. Add berries to make tea.

This month, we’re delighted to share four essays from The Artists’ and Writers’ Cookbook about the power of a simple bowl of soup. Playwright Sheila Callaghan continues our series today with a story about good intentions gone dreadfully wrong. One Thanksgiving years ago, I was meeting my future husband’s extended family for the first time. His mother and her people are from Cyprus, and his father and his people are from Greece. At the time they all lived in Toledo, Ohio.

This month, we’re delighted to share four essays from The Artists’ and Writers’ Cookbook about the power of a simple bowl of soup. Vietnamese-American photographer An-My Lê kicks off the series with a story about her maternal grandmother’s pho. We had just finished celebrating the New Year and gone to sleep when we were awoken by wild shouts, loud explosions, gun fires, and flares.

What meals make you think of your childhood? What do you eat in times of celebration, or of grief? What ambitious culinary project devolved into an unwieldy disaster — or came together like magic at the eleventh hour? What do you eat when no one is watching? If your answers are hard to come by, maybe a familiar smell will summon them: fried eggs, fresh bread, grilled cheese, melting chocolate. What we eat is emblematic of who we are, where we come from, and what matters most to us.

At an age when most of us were cultivating ant farms and Chia Pets, Sarah Frey-Talley was building herself a formidable business. At 7, she and her mother started selling watermelons and cantaloupes from a neighboring farm to local grocers. At 17, she was growing her own melons, and at 19, she was navigating her way through national contracts with Walmart stores.

Bred for durability, grown in the inhospitable Florida sand, exposed to any number of harmful pesticides, prematurely harvested by the hands of immigrants living in virtual slavery, and finally gassed to ripeness — or rather, redness — within the confines of a warehouse: This is the biography of the modern American tomato as told by Barry Estabrook in his 2011 shocking exposé of the tomato industry, Tomatoland.

Remember when none of us knew how to pronounce quinoa? Or when nobody knew what an açai berry was, and it was just another baffling smoothie add-in? What a time to be alive, when ancient grains and Amazonian berries are entering into mainstream lexicon! But there’s a downside: When a food becomes fashionable, suddenly it can feel tough to ask the most basic questions about what it is and how it came to be on our plates. Luckily, we’ve got your back on terminology.

The original Caesar, a product of neither America nor Italy, but of Tijuana, Mexico, has come a long way. In its century of existence, the salad has evolved from finger food to American classic to questionable health food. For the armchair historian or the Caesar devotee, here is a condensed history of the legendary salad in three iconic Caesars.

Snacks are an essential part of travel. They keep hunger — and impulsive, hanger-driven decisions — at bay, sustaining long days on the road (or on your feet). They also offer a tiny piece of home, whether it’s the familiarity of a pack of peanut M&Ms when you’re in a foreign country or the knowledge that you’ve got your go-to granola handy for breakfast.

Snacks are an essential part of travel. They keep hunger — and impulsive, hanger-driven decisions — at bay, sustaining long days on the road (or on your feet). They also offer a tiny piece of home, whether it’s the familiarity of a pack of peanut M&Ms when you’re in a foreign country or the knowledge that you’ve got your go-to granola handy for breakfast.

Snacks are an essential part of travel. They keep hunger — and impulsive, hanger-driven decisions — at bay, sustaining long days on the road (or on your feet). They also offer a tiny piece of home, whether it’s the familiarity of a pack of peanut M&Ms when you’re in a foreign country or the knowledge that you’ve got your go-to granola handy for breakfast.

From the first high school reunion to the last September wedding, a quick coffee catch-up to a boozy brunch with old friends, summer is the season for reconnecting with people from your past. But what’s the best way to get back into the flow with someone you haven’t seen in a while? British authors Judy Apps and Catherine Blyth have mastered the art of conversation — in fact, they’ve both written books by that very name.

Like anyone who’s been lucky enough to travel to Bali, I wish I could have brought it home in my suitcase. There’s a reason that the island province of Indonesia has a reputation for attracting “seeker” types like me — the nomads, the yoginis, the meditators. Bali is a jolt to the senses, from the bewitching sound of the gamelans, to the colorful palette of its temples and native flora, to the scent of the sea in the air.

When it comes to lunch, some feel that variety is overrated. Just as the fashion world has been spotting creative, successful people who wear the same thing every day — freeing their minds of mundane daily decisions to put their energy elsewhere — we’ve been noticing a few smart people who choose to eat the same lunch, day in and day out.

When it comes to lunch, some feel that variety is overrated. Just as the fashion world has been spotting creative, successful people who wear the same thing every day — freeing their minds of mundane daily decisions to put their energy elsewhere — we’ve been noticing a few smart people who choose to eat the same lunch, day in and day out.

When it comes to lunch, some feel that variety is overrated. Just as the fashion world has been spotting creative, successful people who wear the same thing every day — freeing their minds of mundane daily decisions to put their energy elsewhere — we’ve been noticing a few smart people who choose to eat the same lunch, day in and day out.

When it comes to lunch, some feel that variety is overrated. Just as the fashion world has been spotting creative, successful people who wear the same thing every day — freeing their minds of mundane daily decisions to put their energy elsewhere — we’ve been noticing a few smart people who choose to eat the same lunch, day in and day out.

The last time I came down with a cold, I curled up beneath a heap of blankets, propped myself up with pillows, and battled my brain fog with a mug of “golden milk.” Warm and velvety, spiced with turmeric, cinnamon, and ginger, it was the color of daffodils — and every bit as comforting. But I wasn’t just going for soothing; I was gunning for a record-breaking recovery. Would golden milk be my Seabiscuit?