As I sit here watching the 2024 Paris Olympics, witnessing athletes who have committed years, decades, and their lives to their sport, I realize writing (and food, of course) has been my “sport” for the last 22 years. I haven’t trained the muscle, but the memory is returning. In the process, I am consciously pushing out self-doubt and anxiety while my fingers feel like little tin men from “The Wiz” singing “Slide Some Oil to Me” as I’m hunched over this keyboard. Nevertheless, I persist.
What can I say? It’s been three-plus years since I last wrote on this special food page and in this historic Harlem, New York City, publication. During that time, I realized I am an experiential writer, capturing moments and times in words and stories. And I have had lots of moments to share with you.
As the pandemic did for the rest of the world, it changed my trajectory in myriad ways. I got a full-time job as a food editor (and all that goes with going back into a…
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