Author: Karen McCann

“Ask if the haunted room is available,” Rich said as we approached the front desk at Hotel La Rose in Santa Rosa, CA. “Seriously?” As a rational, modern woman, I do not, of course, believe in ghosts. But as a fourth-generation Californian, I was raised to respect vibes, and it seemed to me any room…

Returning to your home country after a long absence is rarely easy. Occasionally you glide seamlessly back into place, but more often you hit the ground in a series of bumps and skids, small moments of culture shock and disorientation that leave you breathless and wondering how much you really know about your nation or…

A bowl of the watermelon gazpacho Rich and I prepared at our family reunion this week. ​ ​ ​The last time I chopped up a watermelon in haste for a company meal, the area around my cutting board looked like a crime scene requiring forensic attention from the blood spatter pattern analysis team on the…

The little California town I go to every summer lost its diner a few years back, and I am convinced Bubba’s demise was due to the slogan: “Where grease meets organic.” Because let’s face it, American diners are all about good old-fashioned, fat-dripping, don’t-count-the-calories comfort food, preferably dished up at 2 AM by a uniformed…

We live in extraordinary times with extraordinary possibilities. I grew up on science fiction stories and am constantly astonished how many have become real: driverless cars, virtual reality, robots doing surgery. At a lecture a few nights ago, I learned that young people are now in training for the 2032 mission that will land humans…

For summer paella parties, I like frozen grapes to keep the white wine cold without risking the dilution that can come with ice. One of the things I like best about paella is that it’s nearly always made by men. In Spain, it’s generally the centerpiece of a leisurely Sunday lunch, and I have been…

I have to admit, it felt strange — surreal, even — the first time I ate breakfast in the same bar I’d been drinking in the night before. But this isn’t uncommon in Seville, where the line between coffee house and tavern is a blurry one. Then there was the morning I found myself sipping…

And other  reasons to love the stuff ancient Romans called “liquid gold” Before I moved to Seville, I regarded all fat as the enemy. When I used olive oil at all, I tended to pour a scant half teaspoon on my salad or into a non-stick pan to sauté my homegrown vegetables. So I was…

Who could resist a talisman capable of warding off the evil eye, especially one priced at less than $5 ? This nazar seemed like a lot of good karma for the money — until I got home from Athens and the lapel-pin promptly snapped off the back of the amulet so I couldn’t fix it…

“You’ve heard of Diego Armando Maradona, of course,” said Alessandro, our guide on the Naples Street Food Tour . ​ I had to confess that my knowledge of European football ranks somewhere below my expertise in quantum physics, progressive jazz, and the history of duct tape. ​ Alessandro, a street-smart Neapolitan whose “day job” is…