Can a food writer cook?
The moral of the story is, if you teach me, I will teach the cook
The moral of the story is, if you teach me, I will teach the cook
I feel bad. Because I cannot count the number of times I picked up Nora Ephron’s “I Feel Bad About My Neck” in book stores, only to put it down again in favor of another book. I’ll get it next time, I kept telling myself. But I never did. And now she’s dead.
In my old grade school Hello Kitty diary I listed down “When Harry Met Sally” as one of my favorite movies, even though Billy Crystal wasn’t handsome and it would take me ten years after the fact to understand why Meg Ryan was screaming and flailing in a deli (my mom refused to explain why).
Nora Ephron, the essayist, author and filmmaker who challenged and thrived in the male-dominated worlds of movies and journalism and was loved, respected and feared for her wit, died on Tuesday of leukemia. She was 71.
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