If this is the end of the world, give me a fork and a knife.
Hollywood, the business, would be just fine if someone were to destroy the Hollywood sign. The city's there is the airport - its point of entry and exit, and in some ways its identity.
My relationship to food is that of an acrophobe to a bridge. Unease masks a desire to jump.
Los Angeles is a city of few hard targets. Its iconic buildings are private spaces, mostly residential, visible by invitation only or in the pages of a Taschen book. Its central industry is as mirage-like as the projection of light on a screen.
Like the rest of the city, LAX is coming of age.
I developed my taste for coffee at five, staying with my grandmother in Connecticut.
Like funny men, skilled diners are apparently perceived to have an evolutionary advantage.
Christmas cookies can't help but be retro - they are memory first, sugar-flour-egg-redhot-gumdrop-sparkle reality second.
Los Angeles is a good city in which to be a reporter. Always entertaining, always an incubator.
I will eat disgusting things, but only those with long established culinary traditions.