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It started with a hot dog and a pair of rollerb lades. At thirteen years old my version of being a reckless ado lescent invo lved skidding down Broad way on a Saturday afternoon with my best friend， dodging pedestrians while munching on a Gray's Papaya hot dog.
The ro llerb lades have long since been abandoned-as has my taste for Gray's Papaya. a bng with other my stery meats-but what rem ains is my bve of eating and waking at the same time.
thave alW ays felt that waking while eating is one of the highest forms of respect you can pay to a food and to a city， and to my city in particular. Tuck into that tulo of chicken wings with hot sauce， bite in to that im possib ly juicy burger. devour that fully-baded pizza as you wak down the street like it's your last meal-nobody cares. Some callthis bad manne rs. I calI this freedom .
When I was nine years oldr my mother towed me around Paris for two weeks on a budget that left room for Rodin sculoture viewing. a fair am ount of onion soup eating and not much else. Both my mother and l wanted come lunchtime was a sandw ich to go. The French were not very olo liging. Lunch was to be eaten at a tabla over the course of an hour or so with fixed attention and proper cutlery. A decade later I retumed as a college student for a year， mostly though. l stom ped around the great cities of Europe， specia lizing in getting bst. would start in the moming and wak all day， stum bling across a fam ous church here， an in press ive monum ent there and untang ling how one neighbo rhood flowed into the next. But getting food to go was a chalbnge. curryw urst in V ienna. ge lato in Flo rence， kebabs in London-the options were lim ited and I was only vaguely aw are of how gaucheit was to wak down the street while snacking on oily chunks of meat. If you had to eat outside you were to sit yourse lf down on the steps of some great cathedra land nosh aw ay.
The Gallic reverence for food is a bit shattering to the effic iency-minded. Put simply： “Food is good. Eatng is not a matter of ingesting calories.” Despite modem inflUences on culinary traditions. there rem a ins a sense of celebration at French meals. “we don't like to eat and run，” says Gayot. “work is one thing. and eatng is another. It is a mom ent of refbction and socia rizing， and a mom ent of pleasure. like reading a good book or listening to music you like. Even with a busy life， people want to keep this trad dtion.”
Gastronom icaI reverence aside， anim a listic habits are making some inroads in Paris. On my most recent vis it earlier this year， I discovered that Parisians had discovered the bagel. l did not attem pt to try one， mostly out of deference to the French.
For most New Yorkers. eat- waking is an irresistib le trifecta of effic iency： nourishm ent， exercise and transportation. But for me， it has an opposite appea l. I beg in to notice thngs when lsbw my gart so as not to choke on a steam ing samosa. Sheathed in the act of eating， the city both washes over me and flows through me. With the privilege of distance， scents become sharper. overheard conversations som ehow become more profound， people's outfits more interestng， the shiny new glass mono lith more elegant and the stew of pedestrians more harm onious. As is the New York way， no one notices the trailof peas and potatoes in my wake. The streets of New York have alW ays been bastions of eccentric indulgences. l weave through a thin crowd wearing a curried sm ile. l am home.
事情得从一个热狗和一双轮滑鞋讲起。13岁时，我还是个冒冒失失的小丫头，经常在周六下午跟我最要好的朋友一起沿着百老汇大街一路滑行，一边躲闪着路上的行人，一边大嚼着从格雷木瓜店里买来的热狗。
如今那双轮滑鞋早就被扔了一对格雷木瓜店里的热狗和其他搞不清成分的肉类食品我也早没了兴趣一但我对边走边吃依然热情不减。
我一向认为边走边吃是向食物和城市表达敬意的最高形式之一，对我所在的城市来说尤其如此。你走在街上，拿着一桶蘸了辣酱的鸡翅大快朵颐，或是咬一口味美多汁得不可思议的汉堡，或是举着块馅料丰富的比萨狼吞虎咽，仿佛这是你的最后一餐一没有人会在乎。有人管这叫没规矩，我管这叫自由。
在我九岁时，妈妈拉着我在巴黎转了两个星期。我们的预算有限，除了参观罗丹的雕塑作品和喝好多顿洋葱汤的钱之外所剩无几。到了午饭时间，我和妈妈只想买个三明治在路上吃。法国人在这方面却不怎么与人方便。吃顿午饭得在餐桌边坐上一个来钟头，专心致志地吃，还得恰当地使用餐具。十年后，我以大学生的身份重返巴黎留学一年。大多数时间我都是在欧洲各大城市暴走，迷路成了我的“专长”。我会从早上出发，走上一整天，一会儿在这儿发现一座著名教堂，一会儿在那儿看见一座雄伟的纪念碑，一路上研究着一个街区如何与下一个街区会合。买外卖食物却是一项挑战。维也纳的咖喱香肠、佛罗伦萨的冰淇淋、伦敦的烤肉串一可供选择的种类有限，而我也只是隐约感到一边吃着油汪汪的大肉块一边走在街上是多么不雅。如果你不得不在外边吃东西，你得找个大教堂的台阶坐下，再开吃。
在效率至上的人看来，法国人对食物的敬畏有些令人诧异。简而言之：“食物是好东西。吃东西不是为了摄取卡路里。”尽管烹饪传统受到现代社会的影响，但法国人在就餐时依然保持着一种仪式感。“我们不喜欢边吃边走，”加约（美食评论家）说，“工作是一码事，吃饭是另一码事。吃饭是进行思考和与别人交流的时刻，是享受快乐的时刻，就像读一本好书或是听自己喜欢的音乐一样。即使生活忙碌，人们也想保持这个传统。”
撇开对美食的尊重不谈，动物那般的饮食习惯开始侵蚀巴黎。今年早些时候，我最近一次造访巴黎时，发现巴黎人已开始吃贝果了。我没尝试去买，这主要是为了表示对法国人的尊重。
对于大多数纽约人而言，边走边吃从效率上看一举三得，令人无法抗拒：补充了营养，锻炼了身体，满足了交通需求。但对我而言，它的吸引力刚好与之相反。在我放慢脚步以免被热气腾腾的油炸三角饺噎着时，我开始留意周边的事物。这座被吃的行为所包围的城市既让我无动于衷，又让我深受触动。有了距离这个优势，气味变得更加强烈，无意中听到的对话也不知不觉变得更加深刻，人们的穿着显得更有意思，崭新闪亮的玻璃幕墙显得更加优雅，街上拥挤的人流也变得更加和谐。正如纽约一贯的做派，没人注意到我身后撒落的豌豆和土豆屑。纽约的街道向来是容纳古怪嗜好的堡垒。我面带微笑，嘴里散发着咖喱的气息，穿行在稀落的人群中。我到家了。
The ro llerb lades have long since been abandoned-as has my taste for Gray's Papaya. a bng with other my stery meats-but what rem ains is my bve of eating and waking at the same time.
thave alW ays felt that waking while eating is one of the highest forms of respect you can pay to a food and to a city， and to my city in particular. Tuck into that tulo of chicken wings with hot sauce， bite in to that im possib ly juicy burger. devour that fully-baded pizza as you wak down the street like it's your last meal-nobody cares. Some callthis bad manne rs. I calI this freedom .
When I was nine years oldr my mother towed me around Paris for two weeks on a budget that left room for Rodin sculoture viewing. a fair am ount of onion soup eating and not much else. Both my mother and l wanted come lunchtime was a sandw ich to go. The French were not very olo liging. Lunch was to be eaten at a tabla over the course of an hour or so with fixed attention and proper cutlery. A decade later I retumed as a college student for a year， mostly though. l stom ped around the great cities of Europe， specia lizing in getting bst. would start in the moming and wak all day， stum bling across a fam ous church here， an in press ive monum ent there and untang ling how one neighbo rhood flowed into the next. But getting food to go was a chalbnge. curryw urst in V ienna. ge lato in Flo rence， kebabs in London-the options were lim ited and I was only vaguely aw are of how gaucheit was to wak down the street while snacking on oily chunks of meat. If you had to eat outside you were to sit yourse lf down on the steps of some great cathedra land nosh aw ay.
The Gallic reverence for food is a bit shattering to the effic iency-minded. Put simply： “Food is good. Eatng is not a matter of ingesting calories.” Despite modem inflUences on culinary traditions. there rem a ins a sense of celebration at French meals. “we don't like to eat and run，” says Gayot. “work is one thing. and eatng is another. It is a mom ent of refbction and socia rizing， and a mom ent of pleasure. like reading a good book or listening to music you like. Even with a busy life， people want to keep this trad dtion.”
Gastronom icaI reverence aside， anim a listic habits are making some inroads in Paris. On my most recent vis it earlier this year， I discovered that Parisians had discovered the bagel. l did not attem pt to try one， mostly out of deference to the French.
For most New Yorkers. eat- waking is an irresistib le trifecta of effic iency： nourishm ent， exercise and transportation. But for me， it has an opposite appea l. I beg in to notice thngs when lsbw my gart so as not to choke on a steam ing samosa. Sheathed in the act of eating， the city both washes over me and flows through me. With the privilege of distance， scents become sharper. overheard conversations som ehow become more profound， people's outfits more interestng， the shiny new glass mono lith more elegant and the stew of pedestrians more harm onious. As is the New York way， no one notices the trailof peas and potatoes in my wake. The streets of New York have alW ays been bastions of eccentric indulgences. l weave through a thin crowd wearing a curried sm ile. l am home.
事情得从一个热狗和一双轮滑鞋讲起。13岁时，我还是个冒冒失失的小丫头，经常在周六下午跟我最要好的朋友一起沿着百老汇大街一路滑行，一边躲闪着路上的行人，一边大嚼着从格雷木瓜店里买来的热狗。
如今那双轮滑鞋早就被扔了一对格雷木瓜店里的热狗和其他搞不清成分的肉类食品我也早没了兴趣一但我对边走边吃依然热情不减。
我一向认为边走边吃是向食物和城市表达敬意的最高形式之一，对我所在的城市来说尤其如此。你走在街上，拿着一桶蘸了辣酱的鸡翅大快朵颐，或是咬一口味美多汁得不可思议的汉堡，或是举着块馅料丰富的比萨狼吞虎咽，仿佛这是你的最后一餐一没有人会在乎。有人管这叫没规矩，我管这叫自由。
在我九岁时，妈妈拉着我在巴黎转了两个星期。我们的预算有限，除了参观罗丹的雕塑作品和喝好多顿洋葱汤的钱之外所剩无几。到了午饭时间，我和妈妈只想买个三明治在路上吃。法国人在这方面却不怎么与人方便。吃顿午饭得在餐桌边坐上一个来钟头，专心致志地吃，还得恰当地使用餐具。十年后，我以大学生的身份重返巴黎留学一年。大多数时间我都是在欧洲各大城市暴走，迷路成了我的“专长”。我会从早上出发，走上一整天，一会儿在这儿发现一座著名教堂，一会儿在那儿看见一座雄伟的纪念碑，一路上研究着一个街区如何与下一个街区会合。买外卖食物却是一项挑战。维也纳的咖喱香肠、佛罗伦萨的冰淇淋、伦敦的烤肉串一可供选择的种类有限，而我也只是隐约感到一边吃着油汪汪的大肉块一边走在街上是多么不雅。如果你不得不在外边吃东西，你得找个大教堂的台阶坐下，再开吃。
在效率至上的人看来，法国人对食物的敬畏有些令人诧异。简而言之：“食物是好东西。吃东西不是为了摄取卡路里。”尽管烹饪传统受到现代社会的影响，但法国人在就餐时依然保持着一种仪式感。“我们不喜欢边吃边走，”加约（美食评论家）说，“工作是一码事，吃饭是另一码事。吃饭是进行思考和与别人交流的时刻，是享受快乐的时刻，就像读一本好书或是听自己喜欢的音乐一样。即使生活忙碌，人们也想保持这个传统。”
撇开对美食的尊重不谈，动物那般的饮食习惯开始侵蚀巴黎。今年早些时候，我最近一次造访巴黎时，发现巴黎人已开始吃贝果了。我没尝试去买，这主要是为了表示对法国人的尊重。
对于大多数纽约人而言，边走边吃从效率上看一举三得，令人无法抗拒：补充了营养，锻炼了身体，满足了交通需求。但对我而言，它的吸引力刚好与之相反。在我放慢脚步以免被热气腾腾的油炸三角饺噎着时，我开始留意周边的事物。这座被吃的行为所包围的城市既让我无动于衷，又让我深受触动。有了距离这个优势，气味变得更加强烈，无意中听到的对话也不知不觉变得更加深刻，人们的穿着显得更有意思，崭新闪亮的玻璃幕墙显得更加优雅，街上拥挤的人流也变得更加和谐。正如纽约一贯的做派，没人注意到我身后撒落的豌豆和土豆屑。纽约的街道向来是容纳古怪嗜好的堡垒。我面带微笑，嘴里散发着咖喱的气息，穿行在稀落的人群中。我到家了。