eat me

Elif Batuman, "Letter from Istanbul, The Memory Kitchen." From the abstract: "The writer notes that food has never played a large role in her mental life, but that night at Çiya, she viscerally understood why someone might use a madeleine dipped in tea as a metaphor for the spiritual content of the material world."

Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/04/19/100419fa_fact_batuman#ixzz0rVWEPd5c

I really wanted to read an article about food in Istanbul. When the author admitted that she wasn't that interested in food herself, I was intrigued. When she made the ol' Proust reference, I put down the magazine. Enough already.

But really, how cool is this? In a food essay! "I get so confused by nutritional, budgetary, ecological, ethical, aesthetic, and time-managment concerns that I often subsist for weeks on instant oatmeal and multi-vitamins." Maybe I'll try again now that I'm better rested and less testy.