Twenty-five years ago this morning, I boarded my regular 8:15 a.m. United flight from LaGuardia to Denver. I made that trip all the time. Don and I were living in Connecticut. I was working for Einstein Bros. Bagels and traveled frequently to our corporate office in Colorado. Don worked in advertising in New York City. We didn't have Elli yet. What we didn't know, was that eight weeks later, on November 5, she would be born in China and would eventually become our daughter. My boarding pass is taped in my purple diary. It became part of our adoption story. That morning, though, it was just another Tuesday. Until it wasn't. Somewhere in the air, our plane changed course. We were told we were being diverted to Chicago, but no one would tell us why. At first, I was annoyed. I had a meeting in Denver. I couldn't get my cell phone to work. I was going to be late. It's strange to think about that now. Eventually, another passenger got through to someone on his ph...
There are some foods you forget five minutes after you eat them. And then apparently there is potato salad you remember for 30 years. We were invited to a Labor Day weekend BBQ today, and when I asked my friend what I could bring, she said, “A side dish.” Easy enough. They’re making burgers and steaks. Someone is bringing mac and cheese. There will be roasted squash, corn salad, dips, chips—all the things you want at an end-of-summer BBQ. And for some reason, my brain immediately went: Potato salad. But not just any potato salad. Thirty-ish years ago, when we lived in Texas, we used to go to a BBQ restaurant called Red Hot & Blue. It wasn’t fancy. It was the kind of place we’d pop into for lunch—casual, a little quirky, with funny pig artwork and sayings all over the walls. And boy, was it good. They had the BEST pulled pork sandwiches. Real Texas BBQ. The kind I still haven’t been able to find here in California. But the thing I remember just as clearly? The potato salad. I can st...