My sister Ellen likes to tell me I am a good plain cook. Rather than be offended by this, I take a pride in getting the basics right. It doesn't matter how fancy you are if it doesn't taste ... [+]
The Intersection of Humanity and Insanity
The stoplight on the corner had been broken for weeks. Westway Avenue was yellow and green at the same time, while Cherry Lane was forever red. Mabel knew this. Mom and Dad called it "the Intersection of Humanity and Insanity." Some people yielded, treating the intersection as a four-way stop. Others blew right through. Mabel, on the other hand, halted entirely. And never started again. In fact, she threw the car in park and turned around in her seat to look at all of us. I watched her seatbelt dig into her collarbone. "This never happens," she said. "That's because you live in New York City,