WE had just ordered dinner at Il Barone in Montparnasse when, in polite French, we asked a woman sitting next to us whether she would mind not smoking while we ate.
We ate together and my mind was gone, but I was happy.
I'm appalled that our medical students learn more about pharmacology than nutrition in medical school these days, because in my mind the food we eat is our most powerful drug.
His mind was eating at him.
These questions came to mind when I ate dinner recently at David Burke at Bloomingdale's.
Sometimes he misses meals in restaurants, but he says he doesn't mind eating at home.
Like it must for ever be on his mind, eating at him, every decision dissected, every bad moment a beating.
It was this: "Ciao!" Followed by this: "Grazie!" We had just, mind you, eaten cassoulet.
I wouldn't change a thing, and incidentally, no, I don't mind that you ate all of the Ben & Jerry's that we just bought.
Descriptives like erratic, uneven and careless passed through my mind as I ate.
