Marta, the woman who runs the little spice shop on Elm Street, watched me stare at a bottle of Irish cream liqueur for a solid … Read more

I was standing in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store last Tuesday when it hit me — that specific, almost-but-not-quite familiar smell of … Read more

There used to be a tiny, always-steamy cafe tucked behind a laundromat on the corner of 24th and Mission in San Francisco that made the … Read more

My neighbor, Mrs. Kowalski, wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I’d stopped by to borrow a cup of sugar on a cold December afternoon, and the … Read more

Introduction My neighbor Marisol wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I’d stopped by to borrow a ladder on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, and this warm, sweet … Read more