Who Knew? Let’s Have an Adult Conversation About Salads. And, Inevitably, Corn.

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‘Who Knew?’ is sponsored by Walter Stewart’s Market. There was always an unbidden niblet. 

In my industry, the two-martini lunch disappeared around the time Don Draper collected his first pension check. By the time I was a real-deal creative director at a New York ad agency, lunch was a markedly less glamorous occasion: a salad, hastily retrieved and mindlessly consumed with a side of news headlines and online sample sales, from a plastic bowl in my office.  These salads came from the type of place where you’d walk through a roaring, chaotic assembly line and point through the sneeze guard to your desired ingredients. On the other side of the glass, a salad maker chopped and tossed it to your desired consistency.

Business

Who Knew? Five Cheeseburgers Your Cardiologist Doesn’t Need to Know About

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Who Knew?’ is sponsored by Walter Stewart’s Market. I’ve never been able to understand more than six words of Marcel Proust, but from what I can gather, Remembrance of Things Past is 4,200 pages of inscrutable French about a cookie. 

 I can relate. I spend an impractical amount of time contemplating my Platonic ideals of food. Ice cream: Arethusa Farm coffee. Tomato: garden-grown, mid-September, still hot from the sun.

Homepage Featured

Who Knew? Valentine’s Day Edition

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Who Knew?’ is sponsored by Walter Stewart’s Market. Nobody comes to the leafy Connecticut suburbs for our heart-shaped hot tubs. Not only is their resale value questionable, but surely P&Z has a longstanding regulation against Atlantic City chic. All the same, New Canaan can be the perfect spot for a dreamy date, even when your date is the person with whom you’ve been filing taxes jointly for decades. You can find romance here in a cozy, candlelit meal, a meandering drive down a country road, or playing footsie while you read the parking ticket appeals.

Back End

Who Knew? New Canaan, New You

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‘Who Knew?’ is sponsored by Walter Stewart’s Market. Our culture’s annual ritual of reinvention and deprivation is upon us, and it’s the absolute worst. The onset of a new calendar year is the obvious time to make drastic changes to your lifestyle because, last year, even if it was three weeks ago, you were a grievously flawed monster. Wellness and lifestyle brand ads proliferate in your Instagram feed, implying that whoever you are, you must immediately renounce that sad, besweatpantsed person because it is unthinkable to show up to a New Year without a New You. Propped up by billions of marketing dollars, New You sanctimoniously eschews caffeine, sugar, gluten, tequila, procrastination, toffee, cured meats, online shopping, croissants, spontaneously-purchased first-class airplane tickets, cupcakes of any size, movie popcorn, and smokehouse almonds.