As someone who has earned a living in two pretty damned privileged fields -- writing about food and playing rock music -- I've always felt as if I was getting away with highway robbery, even in months when I can barely pay the rent. One of my grandmothers, after all, paid her rent by stuffing chocolates into boxes eight hours a day on a factory assembly line -- not just when she was young but when she was my elderly grandma and should have gotten to, you know, take it easy playing Judas Priest songs at 140 decibels, like I do. So when I read pieces in which other restaurant reviewers complain about how many meals we are forced to eat, I want to... More >>>