Minchenden School Reunion, North London, in 1999: My friends Julie Ward Duncan and Frances Carter with our teacher Frankie Stabler and my famous cheesecake
Occasionally called “a veteran” and, more attractively, “a seasoned member” of Canada’s food media, I’ve been around for a while waxing eloquent about my consuming passion: food.
The sold-out scene at the Isabel Bader Theatre in downtown Toronto on a recent dark and stormy night was akin to a Bob Dylan concert (firsthand experience) or a gathering to hear the Dalai Lama (only hearsay).
In this case, it was a packed house comprised of followers, fans, fellow foodies and a large contingent of up-and-coming chefs.
As I write, my kitchen is filled with the luscious aroma of goat curry warming in the oven. And I have Melissa Leithwood to thank for that.
My psychic bond with Nora Ephron, though one-sided (my side, of course), is a long-standing one
I have never met the brilliant American author, movie director, screenwriter, humourist and foodie but feel I know her well.
I did interview her by phone for my column in the Toronto Star a few years ago when her hilarious little book about the downside of being a middle-aged woman came out called I Feel Bad About My Neck. I could relate.
