I've always thought that parallel parking was my main talent.

It was a given in our family that my father was a grocer so that I wouldn't have to be.

There is no question that Rumanian-Jewish food is heavy. One meal is equal in heaviness, I would guess, to eight or nine years of steady mung-bean eating.

I don't care where I sit, as long as I get fed.

If it's inappropriate to write about, if there's nothing funny about it, then it's not funny.

The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found.

Avoid restaurants with names that are improbable descriptions, such as the Purple Goose, the Blue Kangaroo or the Quilted Orangutan.