Author Archive

Ivy League Gabbing in Brooklyn’s Restaurant Saul

Written by Matthew DeBord on . Posted in Breaking News, Posts

A League of My Own A friend and I were eating at Restaurant Saul about two weeks ago–Saul is one of the relatively new restaurants that have established a bustling outer-borough way of epicureanism on Smith St. in Brooklyn’s Boerum Hill–and it wasn’t long after the food was all eaten (I’ll be getting to the [&hellip
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Two Big Things in California Wine

Written by Matthew DeBord on . Posted in Breaking News, Posts

Here’s how my big things go. California plantings, in the early days (the 1800s), were both romantic and practical. Immigrants and immigrant sons from Europe tried to grow what they had grown, or had seen grown, in the Old World. Pioneers, and fearing disaster, they stuck to the successful Old World varietals. As a result, [&hellip
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Big Sunsets & Red Wines

Written by Matthew DeBord on . Posted in Breaking News, Posts

But stick with me here a second. It’s not the celluloid image I’m talking about, it’s the personal picture. Film, within the larger context of California–and what I’m getting at here is the place–is a perversion. The movies (and television, too, I suppose), as they’re formulated in Hollywood, make no sense, not to my eye, [&hellip
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Cheap Bordeaux

Written by Matthew DeBord on . Posted in Breaking News, Posts

That said, because of my middle-class, up-from-a-small-town, prisoner-of-the-suburbs, prepossessingly uncosmopolitan heritage, I’ve always courted the French. The French, those princes of sophistication, style and urban elan. Their food, their wine. Their movies. All through my 20s, I lapped at the hoary pool of flagrant Francophilia, sometimes quite literally. I lost my cherry to a girl [&hellip
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Le Gans Bistro & Bar

Written by Matthew DeBord on . Posted in Breaking News, Posts

Airplane Food "What’s that?" "737." "How about that one?" "DC-10." "Over there?" "Um…" "L-1011." It’s 1978 and my father and I are sitting in webbed lawn chairs in our backyard in suburban Chicago. We’re playing a little pre-dusk game of ours: identifying the airplanes that traverse the skies over our neighborhood, on one of O’Hare’s [&hellip
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