There is one meal in Europe that time itself bends around. Across the continent, Sunday lunch is not merely a meal but an institution, a long, slow, sacred gathering of the family around the table in the early afternoon, and it holds a place in European life that Americans, with their looser and more scattered …
Here is a genuinely quiet miracle hiding in plain sight on dinner tables right across Europe: almost every country on the continent has a potato dish it treats as its own, a national treasure, a taste of home, and yet the potato is not even European. It arrived from the Americas only a few centuries …
On Tuesday mornings, Susan does the Mercado Central run: two kinds of tomatoes, a bag of clementines, whatever fish the woman at stall 87 says is good, and a coffee standing up on the way out, all of it for less than the parking would have cost at her old supermarket in Ohio. Susan is …
Suggest to a typical American that they might rent, rather than own, a home in retirement, and you will usually get a horrified look, followed by the familiar catechism: renting is throwing money away, you have to build equity, you do not want to be paying a landlord at seventy. It is one of the …
Autumn does not arrive the same way everywhere in Europe, and neither, it turns out, does the food that greets it. As the light shortens and the first cold evenings settle in, kitchens across the continent turn toward warmth, but what warmth means depends entirely on where you are standing. It tastes of olive oil …
For decades, the topless sunbather was one of the enduring images of the French Riviera, a symbol of a certain Gallic ease with the body that the more buttoned-up world found by turns scandalous and enviable. That image is fading fast. Survey after survey confirms that far fewer French women go topless on the beach …
Two words that sound almost identical get confused constantly, and the confusion causes no end of muddled conversations. Polyamory and polygamy both begin with poly, both involve more than two people, and both make many people uneasy, so they blur together in the popular imagination as if they were the same thing. They are not. …
Start browsing property in Europe, whether idly dreaming or seriously house-hunting from across the ocean, and you hit a wall almost immediately: every home is measured in square meters, a unit of area that means precisely nothing at all to an American eye. A listing proudly announces ninety square meters, or seventy, or a hundred …
An office worker in Bologna at 12:45pm closes his laptop, walks to a small trattoria three minutes from his building, and sits down at a table. He orders the menu of the day. He eats his lunch sitting in a chair at a table with cutlery, conversation with the waiter and other regulars, and approximately …
A French office in Lyon empties at 12:30 on Tuesday. The marketing director, the engineers, the administrative staff, the executives. They all leave the building. They walk to nearby restaurants, brasseries, or home if they live close enough. They sit down. They order. They eat. They talk. By 2:00 or 2:15, they are walking back …
Picture a German apartment on a freezing January morning, the temperature well below zero outside, and then picture the windows being thrown wide open, on purpose, deliberately, to let the frigid outside air come pouring in. To an American, watching good heat escape into a winter morning looks like madness, or at least like a …
It is one of the quiet nightmares of renting abroad. You have settled into your apartment in Spain, you have your routines, your neighborhood, your home and your life there, and then one day the news arrives: the landlord has sold the building. A new owner, a company you have never heard of, perhaps an …