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July 15, 2018

2 am. It's Miriam on the phone. To her it's 9 pm. She's in Peru and sounds stressed. I'm in England, dream cracked open, asking her what's wrong. When I opened a restaurant eight years ago, 10000 ft up an Andean mountain, a knock on our door was the usual signal of a d...

December 31, 2017

I am stirring soup as rain beats against the shutters of my restaurant.

It is closed, it is two miles up in the Andes, and it is where I spend every afternoon with my cook, Miriam.

She chops vegetables, I stir soup, and we talk without looking up. 

It suits both of us, sh...

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