Claire Criscuolo is serving her traditional Thanksgiving meal again this year—not turkey, but stuffed acorn squash. And as always, she’ll give thanks to what she learned from her mother: vegetables will cure any ailment.
Sitting at a quiet table in Westville’s Manjares Cafe, architect Eric Epstein found the perfect prescription for his long day of demolition work and fierce hunger in a hearty bowl of sancocho moca — a corn on the cob stew of plantain, yucca, chicken, beef, pork, and mixed vegetables, into which he toppled a scoop of fluffy white rice.
The last time artist Mohamad Hafez was in Damascus, waiting on a visa application that ultimately took a month and a half, it was 2011. The city was still standing strong, and he had a kind of trick. When time stopped each afternoon — the result of a long, large midday meal that ended in a city-wide siesta — he would walk the old city, taking in its Roman arches and the Great Mosque of the Umayyads, listening to birdsong and breath fuse with the daily call to prayer, and sitting in coffee shops with his new iPhone flat on the table, recording conversations quirky and banal alike. Born in Syria, raised in Saudi Arabia, and educated largely in the United States, the self-described “Midwesterner” cherished these snippets of speech, conversations between neighbors, friends and family in a language for which he had been deeply homesick.
Billy Fischer’s blonde dreadlocks swung wildly as he placed one near-blackened bare foot in front of the other and wound around the room. “Now swing you neighbor!” he shouted. “Now swing your partner!”
He laughed, a wide grin spreading across his face.
New Haven’s top economic development official apologized not once, but twice, to two food-truck operators for how the city displaced them from their accustomed spots—then promised to make it easier for the mobile-food business to thrive in town.