Word: manhattanization
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...face in his best-selling cookbook), Keller is in the kitchen every day, cooking. His kitchen is calm and silent now, uber-professional; he's dispensed with the angry outbursts he was once known for. But in 2003, when Keller, 45, plans to open a restaurant in Manhattan, he's going to segue into an overseeing role. He feels bittersweet about that. Keller, whose knees are going out on him after years in the kitchen, tapes them up each morning before going to work. "Standing on your legs every day for 16 hours a day for 17 years...
...fail to contribute to some good beyond ourselves, we condemn ourselves to the hell of loneliness." He notes that "the highest aspiration" of our "soul-starving present...is to keep the body forever young." He dares to use terms like destiny and Satan and still show his face in Manhattan, where Heaven and Hell are merely the names of competing downtown bars...
...thread-count linens that someone else irons. (Mendelson says percale is fine and folding will do.) She will never crow over serving eggs laid by her own Araucana hens. Cheryl does not substitute crafts for life, and she has help only once a month or so. In her cozy Manhattan apartment, bikes are parked in the dining room, and the fridge door is a mess of notes, schedules and magnets. "Who can feel at home in a place where the demands for order are exaggerated?" she asks...
...tragedy of Sept. 11 has fundamentally threatened America’s sense of security. If the Pentagon can be attacked, if terrorists can reach Manhattan, is anywhere in America safe? More disturbingly, last week’s attack seemed to be carried out without any severe breaches of normal security procedures. The U.S. government must act swiftly to protect American soil from the danger of future attacks, working not only to prevent a specific duplication of Tuesday’s tragedy, but also to investigate what other measures—consistent with our basic liberties—must be taken...
...hope to escape themselves; the words of a battered, bruised colossus of a firefighter sobbing, “I tried to save them all—but I couldn’t”; ghostly figures, caked in the dust of the wreckage, running north through the streets of Manhattan; endless lines of donors waiting to give blood...