imbibing

Last fall I had the chance to visit Croatia for two weeks. I was on assignment for a few publications and in search of the white Italian truffle. (A note to other travelers: do not attempt to call this delicacy "Italian" while in Croatia. You will offend many. Trust me.)

I did find truffle after truffle, not in the dirt but in pastas, cream sauces, cheeses, soups and one insanely memorable semifreddo. During the course of my truffle research, a few people have said that truffles can get to you. Somehow, they start to alter your perception of reality. You begin to smell them when they're not there.

Now I understand. I smelled truffles at the airport as I was leaving the country. I smelled them at home while walking down the street, buying groceries, ordering coffee, picking up the mail. The truffles got to me. I will never be the same.

But I digress. The trip was fantastic, especially because I had the chance to travel with photographer Leah Nash for the first time. The first piece from our adventure has just hit the newsstands. Check out Imbibe's May/June issue to see all of Leah's photos, or find the text version here.

unembedded

The other day I was lunching at the Dog House (kosher beef Chicago style/Coke in a can) with my friend Brian, when a swarm of middle schoolers holding notebooks descended on the place. Their teacher told us that she'd seen Amy Goodman speak the night before and was inspired to create the next wave of unembedded journalists. And what better way to do that than head to the Dog House for a hot news story?

Well, these kids were in luck, because they'd just come across two experienced journalists enjoying the absolute freedom of their jobs by sitting outside in freezing weather in order to eat hot dogs mere feet from where they were warmed. We agreed to be interviewed about our jobs.

We told them the hard truth: we would ask tough questions if we had to and bust down doors to get the facts. I tried to make the profession sound noble, but the dab of mustard on my face may have diminished my credibility. No matter, I'm happy to know I helped shape the next generation of unembedded journalists, who, if they're smart, will choose the glamorous lifestyle of the freelance writer.

Don't hold the onions, kids. Don't hold the onions.

perfect pairings

In the most recent issue of Beer Northwest magazine, I write about one of my favorite pairings: running and beer. Read about my first encounter with the drinking club with a running problem, one professor's proof that beer hydrates more effectively than water, and the clever calculations that disprove the notion of the beer gut.

The piece isn't online, but it's worth checking out this new Portland-based publication when you get a chance.

sunday soundtrack

Visiting David Byrne's streaming radio feed is like showing up at the airport and getting on the next available flight to wherever. Today I've been dropped in Turkey, a country I had the chance to visit with my dad and two little brothers way back when.

Byrne's collection would have made a good soundtrack for our trip, although most of these tracks lack the disco sound that makes me so fond of Bollywood/Bhangra mixes. But right now I'm feeling satisfied by this dreamy Turkish pop. Of course the music makes me think of food...juicy lamb kebabs, breakfasts of feta slices and olives, and sweet, thick coffee.

I wish I could post a good photo from our trip. Alas, we traveled in the pre-digital-camera era, so I have no idea where my stack of prints went. Just picture a family of skinny white Americans carrying backpacks filled with iodine pills and Nalgene bottles, grinning in front of mosques, ferries and plates of whole fried fish with cloudy eyes.