My mother, Shannon, and I scurried down Little Clarendon Street, Oxford at around 10:15 at night. We were starving and eager to sit down and talk. My mom had steered us down this road because there are a number of good restaurants to choose from: French, Italian, Tapas, Indian. I peered into each window and chose the least crowded of the bunch – the French one. If left to me, I will always choose the emptiest because I find that the din of busy restaurants these days overwhelms any chance of having a decent conversation. We hadn’t traveled all this way to explore new cuisine. We had come to see my mom.
My birthmother just graduated from The Continuing Education Department at Oxford University, with a focus on regional history. I couldn’t be more proud than to celebrate her continuing achievements, so Shannon and I flew to Oxford to watch her graduation ceremony that evening.
We pushed open the big red door of Café Rouge and walked through the bar into the dining room of the brasserie. The room was big with dark oak floors and tables, burgundy velvet banquettes, and antiqued mirrors which hung from every wall. We waited for a few minutes and then were shown to our table by a disinterested, lanky blonde waiter. He carelessly danced around, making faces at another lanky blonde waiter working the other side of the room. Menus were tossed onto our table, orders taken and we started to catch up.
The first time I ate at Coco Lezzone in Florence, it was at the invitation of film producer Dino De Laurentiis, who knows a thing or two about Italian cooking: 
Twenty years ago this summer I fell in love with Alaska. After
graduating from college and moving permanently to Atlanta with friends,
I thought I had died and gone to heaven by escaping my small town life.
My parents quickly threw a wrench into all the excitement by informing
me we were going on a family vacation to Alaska - a week on a cruise
ship. I balked, begged and pleaded not to go. I am the least
'outdoorsy' person in the world. I don't like to be cold and I don't
like to be hot. My definition of camping is a night at a Holiday Inn
Express. 
There was a time when I CRAVED greens. I mean it. CRAVED ‘em. Lambs tongue (mache) arugula, romaine, and kale (which I would stem, blanche, squeeze dry and then sauté in olive oil and garlic). Evan Kleiman has a terrific 
The Oregon Coast is one of the most beautiful stretches of land I have been privileged enough to spend time exploring. If you are an Oregon native or you are visiting this summer, don't miss some of these great local stops along the way. Have fun!!
