Family Stories

He leans back from the ceremonial bowl, as if feeling the weight of centuries. For five hundred years, this carved figure has been holding the chafed edges of the container. His worn forehead speaks to its antiquity. Read full story

This article was published in 2000, the last year that Equinox was still in print.

Without a Knife

My grandfather was a pragmatic German. When he was at the supper table, he didn’t talk, he ate. If he was having spaghetti, he cut it with a knife. Sitting in the outdoor garden of an Umbrian trattoria, I think about this no-nonsense approach to dining as I lift strands of pasta steaming with dark truffles and roll them against my spoon. Read full story