Chances are you live a stone’s throw away from a Thai restaurant in your neighborhood, and you’ve got a go-to local favorite for pad thai. These days I often find myself traveling north of Berkeley, where there’s quite a few wonderful Thai eateries clustered in Albany, El Cerrito and San Pablo locales.
A former picky eater, Stephanie V.W. Lucianovic is a writer, editor, and lapsed cheesemonger in the San Francisco Bay Area. A culinary school grad with an English lit degree, she has written for CNN.com, MSNBC.com, Popular Science, The New York Times, The Washington Post, and The Boston Globe. Additionally, she has been writing for KQED's Bay Area Bites since its inception and is the website editor for KQED's Emmy-award winning show "Check, Please! Bay Area."
Stephanie was an original recapper at Television Without Pity and worked on a line of cookbooks for William-Sonoma as well as in the back kitchen of a Jacques Pépin cooking show. Her first book, SUFFERING SUCCOTASH: A Picky Eater's Quest To Understand Why We Hate the Foods We Hate (Perigee Books, 2012) is a non-fiction narrative and a heartfelt and humorous exposé on the inner lives of picky eaters that Scientific American called "hilarious" and "the perfect popular science book for a reader that doesn't think he or she wants to read a popular science book."
Stephanie lives in Menlo Park with her husband, three-year-old son, assorted cats, and has been blogging at The Grub Report for over a decade.
Follow her on Twitter at @grubreport
Stephanie Lucianovic's Latest Posts
Check out Burdick’s separate Obama and McCain chocolate boxes. Not only do you get a jean jacket-ready button touting either campaign and a festive box tied with blue or red ribbon and bearing the party’s animal, but each box of chocolates is flavored in line with each candidate’s history.
Warning: This is not a piece extolling the virtues of Slow Food Nation ’08, so if there are delicate sensibilities out there who can’t bear the suggestion that Slow Food Nation is anything other than shiny, happy people eating food, you should probably stop reading right now. It would be one thing if this rant was all about how I volunteered at Slow Food Nation and all I got was this lousy apron.
That’s not even the half of it.
I’ve just booked a trip that ensures that in less than a month, I’ll be happily winging off to my home state of Minnesota. Minneapolis is where I grew up as the pickiest of eaters, eschewing nearly every vegetable aside from corn and artichokes. (Don’t ask where my mother got artichokes in Minneapolis in the 70s and 80s. Or Pomegranates and avocados for that matter, but my mother was born and bred in Glendale, CA and she knew what she liked and she made sure she found it for us.)
It appears I can’t escape food talk even when yanking out pernicious wild radish and avoiding tramping on (and killing) native plants at Land’s End. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, because if we hadn’t started talking about food, I wouldn’t be able to present you with a new summer cocktail. Fellow volunteer, Al the Aussie, gave me leave to publish his invention: The Ginlati. (Al concedes that it could be “Ginlato,” but he likes the sound of “Ginlati,” and since it’s his recipe, I’m not arguing if you drink multiples.)
Having lived through a rash of daylight shootings up and down my immediate area of Divisadero last summer (no deaths, yet no arrests, natch), I was definitely cynical about the new farmers’ market at Divisadero and Grove. Comments like, “Is that Swiss cheese or bullet holes? ” and “I guess I’ll definitely be getting my iron at this market!” flew between my husband and myself. However, I was also excited by the prospect of walking only two blocks to get my hands on some (hopefully) prime produce.
I think beer is getting a little out of control. It all started with the Bud Light Lime, which is an okay idea, I guess. I mean, I’d much rather jam my own lime slice down the long neck of a Corona, but for the lazier out there who don’t mind the taste of artificial lime mixed in with their frat beer? God bless.
I’m a wino. I’m a wino, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I don’t consider my evening meal complete unless I have something red, white, or pink thumped in my glass. For me, leaving off the wine is like leaving off the salt. Having firmly established myself to you as a overly particular diner […]
Those of us who watched Martha Stewart’s aborted foray into Donald Trump’s Apprentice realm will definitely remember Bethenny Frankel. Three years ago, Bethenny Frankel was known as the show’s runner up to actual winner…um, what was her name, again? Oh, right, Dawna Stone. (Oh, give me a break — who would remember someone who would […]
Surrounded by the gentle hum and blue glow of the television from 11pm to 3am, I’m at my most productive. It’s a routine I started in college. I was never able to concentrate in daylight, which might unveil a slightly vampiric side to my personality, and I needed noise to drown out the screaming silence […]
There’s not a whole lot I wish for in San Francisco. City-wide peace. Perhaps a sharkless surf. A mayor who actually cared about the murder rate. Maybe the odd snowstorm complete with school closings that wouldn’t actually affect me, but for which I would still get up at 6 AM to tune the radio appropriately. […]
I fully intended to write about my newest bit of foodie finery that will soon hang happily around my neck. After three years of gazing at the gallery with longing and indecision, I finally made up my mind and bought a necklace from SpoonFed Art. SoCal artist Karin Collins started her collages as therapy for […]
With the temps being on the chillier side these days, I was about to get all Dylan on yo’ ass and announce, “If you wanta have a picnic, that’s up t’ you. But don’t tell me about it, I don’t wanta hear it, ‘Cause, see, I just lost all m’ picnic spirit. Stay in m’ […]
As a kid, the only green vegetable I willingly let into my mouth without making faces and disgusting noises was the artichoke. Knowing what I know now about the seasonality and regionality of food, I’m pretty impressed that my mother was able to get her hands on artichokes in Minnesota all those years ago. As […]