Many of the sandwiches we refer to as Italian sandwiches in America are usually not Italian at all. Rather, they are Italian-American creations, developed by immigrants from Italy or their descendants to suit a fast-paced lifestyle in their new country.
Making pastrami is a major process, and there are a number of places serving up absolutely iconic pastrami sandwiches all across the U.S. We're here to talk about Los Angeles, though, and there are so many spots to pick up such a great sandwich you might argue the city is giving New York a run for its money as the pastrami capital of the country.
Unlike the former Station and the other restaurants that have graced this bizarre island over the years, the food at the Station is very good, if not great, and the prices are reasonable - everything is under $14. The vibes are lovely, too. The new owners expanded the garden, added a fresh coat of paint, good music, a fire pit and a lot of seating.
The road to ramen paradise ends in the unlikeliest of places. At Men Endo, located in a suburban street, next to a school and a low-rise apartment block, bowls of noodles disappear in a flurry of slurps, gulps and hurried but heartfelt exchanges of appreciation between customer and chef. On a cold afternoon in Yamagata, a city in Japan's northeast, the wait for a seat at Men Endo's counter is mercifully short.
For much of the mid-20th century, cheese-based Jell-O salads were a familiar presence across the United States. The fluorescent salads wobbled proudly in decorative molds and Bundt pans, studded with edible chunks that could be stuck in, leading to creative combinations like pineapple and olives with nuts and maraschino cherries. These extravagant dishes typically utilized cottage cheese or cream cheese, folded into or layered with artificially fruit-flavored gelatin.
According to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations via Today's Dietitian, America ranks 171st out of 175 countries for offal consumption, meaning organ meat. Most of the 0.97 pounds the average American eats per year comes from hot dogs and sausage. Americans just don't want to eat organ meat. Unless, of course, they're Boomers. Although chitlins, made from pig intestine, or sweetbreads, made from thymus glands or pancreas, are regional delicacies, most organ meats are not eaten by the majority of Americans.
When I look at the shrimp on the platter, I don't see odd food anymore but, rather, individuals. Creatures piled on a platter, their black eyes still visible, their segmented, armored bodies intact. It's also a contrast to how we usually consume meat-the animal processed, the individual disappearing. Not so in the case of these shrimps. But that's only part of the explanation for my change in attitude
Lawrence Chu, also known as Chef Chu, garnishes a plate of sweet and sour pork at Chef Chu's in Los Altos on December 11, 2025. Chef Chu's is a family-run business, owned by Lawrence Chu, which has been operating since 1970 and is known not only for the food but also for hosting celebrities and tech innovators. (Tâm Vũ/KQED)
Farmers markets in particular are a way of understanding the people who live in any given place. Not only the produce or products that are sold, but how fresh are they, and where are those products from? Are the majority locally sourced or imported? What are the vendors like that are selling them? Who is shopping there?
Fresh produce cost pennies at farm stands, potlucks were filled with top-tier dishes, and the local farmers' market and restaurants were overflowing with flavorful and fresh foods. My great-grandfather, an Italian immigrant, passed down his passion for food, and I was lucky enough to inherit his love of cooking and eating. As a chef and recipe designer, born and raised in Vermont, there's nothing I love more than trying new restaurants.
There's a certain magic at play in Disney movie food scenes. As a lifelong Disney fanatic, current D23 member, Disney+ subscriber, Disneyland and Disney World frequenter, and a travel and food writer who's written about all things Disney for a decade, I'm a major Disney movie meal enthusiast - it's impossible to watch these films without craving the gorgeous animated food.
If you grew up in the '80s, you probably have comforting memories of sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, watching cartoons while munching on your favorite foods. Perhaps you enjoyed the tangy-sweet mess of sloppy Joes or the magical layers of Jell-O Pudding Pops that defined your childhood. These comfort foods represented simpler times full of bustling weeknight dinners, after-school freedom, birthday party joy, and the unmistakable taste of childhood.
Though Stunnaman had already had certified hits like "Big Steppin'" (which even has an official 49ers' remix), his catchy 2024 ode to his love of leafy greens, "Eat a Salad," is what put him in the pantheon of health-conscious Frisco rappers. In the song, Stunnaman extols the nutritious properties of fresh ingredients like "lemon, lime, honey ... agave if you're vegan." To promote the single, he posted videos of himself performing custom verses that were essentially recipes for different salads he would prepare on camera -
One day recently, my son had two long, back-to-back doctor appointments, which meant he was in the car and in waiting rooms for much of the afternoon. His lunch and snack would not have earned me a healthy-mom award: peanut-butter puffs, a grape-jelly Uncrustables sandwich, and a package of mixed-berry oat bites. All ultra-processed foods, the new boogeyman of public health.
If you're not the type of person who likes to go to a local grocery store when you're traveling, then you're seriously missing out. Grocery stores can offer so much learning about a place, what makes it special, and how people like to cook, eat, and drink. Not only will you walk away with some interesting and delicious items, but you'll also have maybe learned a thing or two about the local community.
"When did you become such an adventurous eater?" my mom often asks me, after I've squealed about some meal involving jamón ibérico or numbing spices. The answer is, I don't know, but I can think of moments throughout my life where food erupted as more than a mere meal: My cousin and his Ivy League rowing team hand-making pumpkin ravioli for me at Thanksgiving. Going to the pre-Amazon Whole Foods and giddily deciding to buy bison bacon for breakfast sandwiches assembled in a dorm kitchen.
Looking around the deafening dining room's banquettes full of overengineered outfits, lamenting the apparent extinction of the under-$10 glass of wine, Eren and I admitted to each other that neither one of us was into this. At all. The restaurant, the name of which I've forgotten, is long gone, but at that moment in time, it was marketed everywhere as cool. But cool, when it comes to dining out, is visceral, and this did not strike either of us as cool, just loud and overpriced.
Buzzwords tend to bloom like algae in the restaurant world: a rash of " coastal Italian" spreading across one corner of the map, an eruption of " all-day dining " blanketing whole cities. Reporting on the food industry sometimes feels like being a field scientist, watching for subtle shifts in the ecosystem. Aha, a new one is beginning to flourish. See right there - the corn tortillas elegantly sheeted with roast meats, the citrus-heavy cocktails, the neo-retro design. The conditions have been right for some time.
According to the World Population Review, each person in New Zealand eats, on average, 28.4 liters of ice cream per year. The U.S. ranked second at 20.8 liters per person, nearly 8 liters behind the Kiwis.
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