Sundays Are for Bolognese

Good morning. If there’s a better scent in the world than Marcella Hazan’s Bolognese sauce (above), I’m unaware of it. Well, apart from fresh-baked apple pie, that is. And wooden boats, spit-roasted lamb, fresh-cut hay and Jamaican black cake. But Bolognese is pretty great: that milk-calmed tomato over a bass line of beef, with a…

Can Backcountry Skiing Survive in the Northeast?

Early last February, at the Mount Washington Backcountry Ski Festival in New Hampshire, the organizers faced an increasingly common problem: Terrible snow. Four days of temperatures over 40 degrees combined with an already shallow snowpack had rendered many backcountry ski zones unskiable. Up on Mount Washington, where the higher elevations usually mean colder temperatures, what…

Solo era mi novio en las malas

Quería esconderme. Con la cabeza calva y las mejillas cubiertas de saliva, no había tenido tiempo suficiente para calibrar mi tolerancia a ser vista por alguien que alguna vez quise que me encontrara guapa. “Papá, este es mi amigo Kevin”, dije. No intenté explicar nuestra historia a mi padre. El único recuerdo claro que tenía…