Innehållsförteckning för November 2015 från Esquire

Dear Popeye, You said you would love me until you were ashes. You bolted from work that morning and took a cab sixty blocks for a fuck-ourlights-out festival. You busted in and took me from dreams by throwing your backpack on my floor and then throwing down the pussy gauntlet; I roused and rallied and smiled and you tossed me across the bed--you could have had me fine in the direction I was facing, but it was a morning that needed a body happily pitched across a duvet with a guttural mm hmm, a morning that begged for bodice ripping and hair pulling and whispering and taking off and taking me away, and just then--when I was waking the homeless on the streets with my OH GODS, you slammed into…

Early afternoon, Steinem’s apartment in Manhattan. After some small talk about aging, India, and the media’s appetite for bullshit . . . SCOTT RAAB: In the piece you wrote for Esquire [“The Moral Disarmament of Betty Coed”] in 1962, there’s the idea that the problem isn’t so much the sexual liberation of women as a result of contraceptive technology but that there are so few liberated men. And you weren’t wrong. GLORIA STEINEM: I wouldn’t put it that way anymore, because I think we’re all enmeshed in this political system that is devoted to controlling reproduction. You didn’t invent it; I didn’t invent it. Thirty percent of us are trying to preserve it, and 70 percent are trying to change it. We’re not active enough or voting enough or mad…

Like many enduring creations of collective consciousness—Stone Age cave paintings or medieval cathedrals or the iPhone—the character of James Bond is the work of lots of hands. Under the guidance of nearly a hundred writers and directors and half a dozen actors of all appearances and levels of skill, Bond has taken 50 years to develop and lives as an amalgam of memory as much as a figure onscreen. Seeing him in SPECTRE (out November 6) is like having a reunion with a favorite grizzled uncle, an opportunity to once again face the question he has always posed: Whom do men want to be now? SPECTRE will almost certainly be the last time the question is answered by Daniel Craig, the man who has done more than anyone else to…

Eight-hundred-sixtyseven pages into Garth Risk Hallberg’s two-pound behemoth, City on Fire (Knopf, $30), a character poses the question “But how was it possible for a book to be as big as life?” It might as well be the novel’s tortured mission statement, what with the nearly $2 million publishing deal and monumental industry hype. But this kind of wry self-awareness is also what makes the scale of its ambition palatable. As the backdrop for his epic, Hallberg has chosen the bleak New York of the 1970s, in which a latenight shooting in Central Park unravels a conspiracy substantial enough to shake the whole city off its uneasy foundations. Along for the ride are a megalomaniacal punk rocker and his pack of teenage acolytes, a Rockefellerian family and its reluctant heirs,…

ABOUT THE JOKESTER: Once you’ve inspired a level of fan frenzy diagnosed as “McPheever,” some irreverence can be refreshing. Fortunately, 31-year-old singer and actress Katharine McPhee gets plenty from her ten-year-old onscreen son, Riley B. Smith. Of her Scorpion costar, she says, “He gets a little bit smart-mouthed. He’ll be like, ‘Duh, Kat,’” but to make up for it, “he tells me I’m a really good fake mom.” McPhee reprises her role as good fake mom—and emotional interpreter for a team of awkward, Homeland Security-hired geniuses—Paige Dineen in season 2 of the hit CBS drama this fall. Even while juggling her work on the show with recording her fourth (and best) album, Hysteria, which features collaborations with Sia and OneRepublic’s Ryan Tedder, she’s managed to keep it all from going…

I love sex with my girlfriend, but I can only orgasm if I, uh, take care of things on my own. Is there a way to train myself to finish during sex? You should already be trained in that. Coming during sex is the method we’ve been teaching forever. I don’t know how you could have missed it. Unless your girlfriend’s vagina has undergone significant structural changes far beyond what we experts call “all stretched out,” it should be plenty good for coming into. The fact that you do not find it so leads me to wonder if perhaps monsieur would prefer something different. You are most likely, among other things, what’s known as an idiosyncratic masturbator; no doubt you remember seeing it on your report cards. An IM is…

A watch should withstand— well, really whatever happens as time passes. The inevitable preshower drops on the bathroom tiles. Wrist fattening. And maybe most frustrating of all: trends. A good watch abides, even improves, as all around it changes. This is the attribute that makes a watch a good investment. And now, surprisingly (at least to us), it points to something we once considered ephemeral: the original digital watch. Think about it. Those things were— or, rather, are—sturdy and functional and lose seconds over months, with no need to rewind. They’re adjustable and fixable, with batteries that last years until they’re easily replaced. And now, fully outdone by today’s surge of watch smartness, they reference a bygone era just as a mechanical watch face may allude to the 1960s or…

1. TIFFANY CT60 The only American timepiece on this page, from a rare new collection by the maker of America’s first stopwatch. Steel chronograph ($6,750). 2. PORSCHE DESIGN CHRONOTIMER SERIES 1 Streamlined for the racing sort. Notches like a dashboard’s, no bulky numbers. Its sole indulgence? A tachymeter to track how fast you’re going. Titanium chronograph ($5,450). 3. IWC PORTUGIESER YACHT CLUB From an emblematic line more than 75 years old, this model is now slightly smaller, with a flyback function for rapid-fire timing. Steel chronograph ($12,700). 4. OMEGA SEAMASTER PLOPROF 1200M MASTER Just look at that big sturdyass case and crown. This is the kind of object that imparts gravity to a nap on the beach and establishes confidence in the timing of an oxygen tank deep, deep, deep…

Among the many unusual things about Josh is that he never took notes. But even though he wasn’t writing anything down, I was listening. And he had big plans for this year’s Best New Restaurants. Muscadine was his reigning queen of fried chicken—the secret is in chef Rhoman’s gravy. Josh’s enthusiasm for Shaya was, even for Josh, beyond giddy. He pronounced the Progress a “prodromal symptom of an evolution in third-wave gastronomy,” and he declared Jockey Hollow’s Chris Cannon “master and commander of authentically curated restaurants.” In chef Bailey of the Grey Josh saw a dream—something Josh, ever the dreamer himself, always respected. “Finally,” he used to say to me. “It’s about time.” Josh was perpetually late and aggravatingly absentminded, but he was a brilliant writer and both generous and…

Stuart Brioza approaches my table at the Progress, the San Francisco restaurant he and his wife and co-chef, Nicole Krasinski, opened next door to its lessformal sibling, State Bird Provisions. “A little something that’s not on the menu,” he says, dropping the plate. “A lingcod dish we started playing with today.” (Whenever Brioza says something about the creative process, he uses the pronoun we.) The dish has an air of salty astringency, of a tidal pool made delicious: crisply browned spiced fish scattered within a sweet-sour habitat of tiny seared romano beans and minuscule grapes. It’s challenging in the quietest way possible. Brioza dips his head in a little gesture of deference, and he’s gone. Krasinski and Brioza’s quiet ascendancy along with that of other couple-owners, like Take Root’s Elise…

Even in New Jersey, men dream big. Chris Cannon’s dreaming now as he sits over oysters in a fifteen-thousand-square-foot century-old Italianate mansion in Morristown. This is Cannon’s new joint, Jockey Hollow Bar & Kitchen, a culinary multiplex under one vast palazzo roof in a town that hasn’t seen much action since George Washington and the Continental Army huddled here for warmth during the winter of 1779. It sounds a little nuts: Up the twin marble staircase, you’ve got a four- or sixcourse prix-fixe menu served in what was once an oligarch’s parlor; the main floor has a cocktail lounge and this oyster bar, each with a separate menu; and in the basement, for good measure, there’s a German beer hall, the Rathskeller. Because the long-empty building is a historic landmark,…

“That potato is perfect,” he said. “A restaurant is only as good as its sides. This place does the small things very well.” The marble table—a delicate piece of furniture for a big man like Josh Ozersky—was stacked with plates and brimming with food: cassoulet, crispy chicken schnitzel, goulash, a turkey burger stuffed with Mornay sauce, fried cockscomb, black-truffle wing ball, ostrich tartare, a warm pumpernickel baguette, vanilla butter. There was no place to put the bottle of rosé just arriving. A ridiculous array of food and Ozersky was still ordering and talking, mostly about his father the painter, the Victorian writer Thomas Babington Macaulay, Atlantic City, music, and meat. Meat not as food, really, but meat as energy, inspiration, and life. The late-evening light had faded to darkness, and…

BIGGEST THRILL 2016 LEXUS RC F Imagine a conversation among three Japanese designers. “It should look like a horny toaster,” one says. “A robot lobster,” says another. “The alien from Predator,” says the third. Now imagine they all got what they wanted. You’d have the RC F or maybe something more conservative, with a smaller maw. It’s quiet at speed, like every other Lexus. It’s fast and responsive enough (467-hp reardrive V-8) that you end up doubling speed limits, the steering a live wire, the engine pumping out a growly blat. It’s a wolf in wolf’s clothing—make that a cyborg wolf with big plastic teeth—and polarizing as hell. But the design commits. And in characteristic Lexus/Toyota fashion, the bones feel indestructible, among the best in the business. EMBLEM OF THE…

And Introducing: The Esquire Anti-Death Panel Dr. Michael Roizen, chief wellness officer at the Cleveland Clinic and author of This Is Your Do-Over: The 7 Secrets to Losing Weight, Living Longer, and Getting a Second Chance at the Life You Want Dr. Steven Kaplan, director of benign urologic disease at Mount Sinai Health System Dr. Kimberly Gudzune, assistant professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine Dr. Donald Hensrud, director of the Healthy Living Program at the Mayo Clinic Dr. Mark Litwin, chair of the department of urology at the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA *Or your money back, guaranteed! (Kidding.)…

You’ve probably heard of the calorie-restriction diet: You eat at least 30 percent fewer calories than normal humans, about 1,750 instead of 2,500 for an adult male. If you keep yourself on the verge of starvation, CR devotees claim, you can extend your life span past 100 years, perhaps 120. (The theory is that the body switches into an emergency defensive state and slows your metabolism, producing fewer cell-damaging free radicals.) A few years ago, I tried the CR diet for a book I was writing about health. I spent hours a week filling in spreadsheets with apple calories, weighing food, and watching friends eat. I was perpetually hangry, though CR fans say that you get used to it. In fact, you start to love it. You feel energized. “I…

I.LET US BE LOVERS, LET US BE OPEN TO SIREN songs of death cheated and lives prolonged. Two and a half years ago, a well-known woman published an essay in The New York Times, “My Medical Choice,” about how she decided at thirty-seven years of age to prophylactically, preventively surgically remove her healthy breasts in order to reduce her chances of dying from cancer. “My mother fought cancer for almost a decade and died at fiftysix,” the woman wrote. Ovarian cancer. The woman’s six children had asked her if the same might happen to her, and “I have always told them not to worry, but the truth is I carry a ‘faulty’ gene, BRCA1, which sharply increases my risk of developing breast cancerand ovarian cancer.” Her particular genetic marker, BRCA1,…

During the recent New York Fashion Week: Men’s, designer Thom Browne unveiled a collection of men’s tailoring to salute his commitment to American craftsmanship in an office space made entirely out of mirrors. This dramatic vision of the classic Thom Browne wardrobe not only made his 28 looks appear endless, but it also showed his kaleidoscopic genius for reinventing modern-day dress codes. Seasonal collection themes are famously illustrated by his theatrically inventive presentations, where meticulous attention to detail remains Browne’s constant. Key factors emerge: the influential sense of proportion, the consistency of his extraordinary workmanship, and the imaginative use of luxurious fabrics. With the help of the global authority on Merino wool, The Woolmark Company, technically advanced fabrics like Cool Wool bring innovative benefits to Thom Browne’s designs. Starting with…

FOR STORE INFORMATION SEE PAGE 152. GROOMING BY LOSI FOR HONEY ARTISTS. SET DESIGN BY MARY HOWARD STUDIO.…

Remember that time—it was about a month ago—when we mentioned that we were gonna put every single Esquire onto the Interwebs? A thousand issues (a thousand and one, counting this issue in your hands), and God knows how many words, images, and ill-advised jokes, all in one digitized space? Well, damn, we actually did it! And you can get there two ways: Go to classic.esquire.com. (Easy enough.) Or use this other thing we did: Shazam this magazine. Just pull out your phone, bring up your Shazam app, hit the little camera icon, and point the viewfinder at this blue box. If you do that right now on this page, it’ll take you to classic.esquire.com, where you can subscribe (for cheap) and read every Esquire ever. But you can also do…

Date of birth: March 25, 1934 Which makes her: 81 And she has: “Every intention of living to be 100.” Hometown: Toledo Evidence of hometown pride: “You can definitely sneer at Toledo.” Alma mater: Smith College Known for: Presiding over the second-wave feminist movement. Which involved, among other things: Going toe-to-toe with nemesis Phyllis Schlafly in support of the Equal Rights Amendment; speaking out about her abortion at the age of 22; writing “After Black Power, Women’s Liberation.” Famous third-wave fans: Lena Dunham, Ariana Grande, Amy Schumer Early career catalyst: The exposé she published in Show magazine in 1963 about her undercover stint as a Playboy Bunny. Whose ethnographic findings included: An exhaustive catalog of materials used to stuff Bunny chests (plastic dry-cleaner bags, cut-up Bunny tails); a roundup of…

THE CIRCLE OF SELF-AWARENESS WHERE ARE THIS MONTH’S CULTURAL TROPES IN THEIR LIFE CYCLES? Learning from the past Planet Earth descendant Earth’s Natural Wonders (premieres on PBS 11/4), a luscious stoner-bait exploration of “the most amazing places on our planet.” Nostalgia Goosebumps (in theaters now), Jem and the Holograms (in theaters 10/23), and The Peanuts Movie (in theaters 11/6), film adaptations of discontinued properties from the ’90s, ’80s, and ’50s, respectively. The present is now Drama I Smile Back (in theaters 10/23), in which Sarah Silverman follows comedians like Jim Carrey and Adam Sandler in seeking critical validation through a role as an uncharismatic depressive. THE VAGUELY RECOGNIZABLE WOMAN MATCH EACH WOMAN BELOW TO HER NAME AND PROJECT — KETHER DONOHUE, from FXX’s dysfunctional romantic comedy You’re the Worst (Wednesdays…

By Shann Ray The train—in so many western novels and films—is the defining symbol of industry and expansionism, and the sentences in Shann Ray’s debut novel, American Copper (Unbridled Books, $16), race across the page like the hammering of spikes, the clatter of ties, the banshee wail of the steam engines that signal the violent seizure of the West. In one scene, a train wreck mangles the tracks and crumples the cars. And in another, a railroad crew building a mountain passage misfires a bundle of dynamite, which hurls bodies and rocks into the air and drives a railroad spike through a jaw and out the top of a skull. These touchstones capture Ray’s brutal, beautiful vision of Montana from the years 1864 to 1935, a time of rapacious growth…

SOMETIMES THE REASON to buy a watch is perfectly simple. You see it and you know. But sometimes there are more variables, each of which forces you to make a series of mental calculations to define what you seek. The search becomes a science. Take that watch up above: TAG Heuer’s Carrera Calibre 18 automatic chronograph ($4,800). Yes, it’s beautiful. But there’s also its capabilities (great for driving, less so for diving), quirks (a telemeter on the flange), and racing roots in the ’50s. Maybe it’s one of those factors that you value most of all—that makes it right for you. Or maybe it’s one of the other elements we examine on the pages ahead.…

1. RADO HYPERCHROME TOUCH DUAL TIMER It reveals its power through what’s missing: a crown. To set both time zones, you press and swipe the ceramic case. You can also flip the zones magically (or, okay, electronically). Ceramic watch ($2,900). Capability index: 2. MONTBLANC TIMEWALKER URBAN SPEED E-STRAP Embedded into its strap is a small screen that enables you to preview (as in screen) your texts, calls, and social media. It also jogs your memory about that meeting—and then tracks the distance of the jog you should take afterward. Steel watch ($4,900). 3. MICHAEL BASTIAN CHRONOWING It reaches beyond the new necessities—texts, calls, appointments—to follow stocks, the weather, and sports scores. It also cycles through your music. It’s modernity with a pseudoanalog face. Steel watch ($350). 4. FOSSIL Q Stealth.…

I want an everyday watch. I thought a Shinola Runwell with a green face would do nicely, but my wife says I should get a blue, black, or white face because I don’t wear green. Should men match their watch face to their wardrobe? TOM MUELLER DALLAS, TEX. Tom, it used to be said (sometimes even by me) that matching the color of your dial or the color of the case metal to other things on your person—like your cuff links or your tie—was a sign that you had made an effort. Fortunately, things are not as rule-driven these days. If anything, worrying unduly about what matches what is a sign that you are thinking about things too much. To my mind, a good watch should stand on its own…

Bobbie Gentry’s above the bar, her hair a windswept riot as she crosses the Tallahatchie Bridge. And the furniture— bentwood chairs with floral-patterned cushions—would not look out of place in the sitting room of a jilted Faulkner character. But chef Laura Rhoman, an eighth-generation native of Tupelo, Mississippi, has conjured more than a shrine to the South. At Muscadine, in Portland, Oregon, the needle’s as likely to drop on Bell Biv DeVoe’s “Poison” as it is on anything by Johnny Cash. The coffee, Cellar Door, is local. And the food, southern standards plucked from family-recipe books, revels in the Pacific Northwest’s abundance. The creamed corn from a Portland farmers’ market is fresh and crunchy, not stewed; Rhoman’s salmon croquettes swap the customary payload of briny canned salmon for fresh sockeye…

Josh Ozersky claimed the only person he trusted for L. A. restaurant recommendations was Veronica Rogov, who was then a server at Chi Spacca. Now she’s our authority on the Los Angeles dining scene. Broken Spanish Ray Garcia’s food is unique but comfortable, and the service is soulful but efficient. Michael Lay, one of the best beverage directors in the city, designed the cocktail program. 1050 South Flower Street; 213-749-1460 Nicole Rucker’s Doughnuts at Cofax Coffee Rucker just became a partner at Cofax Coffee, where she collaborates with local tastemakers, like Compartés chocolate, to capture L. A. 440 North Fairfax Avenue; 323-424-7485 Gjusta At Travis Lett’s new spot, an army of cooks makes whipped burrata and rabbit-pheasant terrine and oil-cured anchovies and just incredible porchetta—it’s an orchestra of delectables. 320…

Years ago, when I was a grad student, I worked at an ice cream shop in Oxford called George & Davis’. Students from Teddies, one of the local private schools just up the road, used to come in all the time. One of them was Emilia Clarke. ¶ She’s twenty-eight now, one of the stars of Game of Thrones, the mother not just of dragons but of John Connor in the latest Terminator movie, and Esquire’s Sexiest Woman Alive. It’s Sunday lunchtime. I was supposed to be taking my kids to Legoland. But I’m not—I’m going to interview Emilia. ¶My taxi pulls up at a house in Hampstead, an inner London suburb. Academics and writers used to live there. Now only bankers and lawyers and movie stars can afford it—you…

2016 ROLLS-ROYCE GHOST You think to yourself: This is what driving a cloud would be like. You think: I have never enjoyed so much interior space. You think: This is nice. Not $290,000 nice. But nice. Then you emerge from the car, and at the edge of the door compartment, you see a silver disk that begs to be pushed. And so you push it. And out pops the handle of a Rolls-Royce umbrella. And you think: Worth it. 2016 LAMBORGHINI HURACÁN When you were a kid, you had the Lamborghini Countach or Diablo poster on your wall. You were happy. Then one day you came to realize that you’d probably never actually see a Lamborghini or ever drive one. You were sad. Then, thirty or forty years later, you…

When the big drunk guy drives back for the third time, slanting his SUV to the curb, he steps out with a gun on his hip and stops in the middle of the street. “Who am I talking to?” he says. “Anybody? Everybody?” On the sidewalk stand thirteen heavily armed Texans, a six-yearold boy, and a baby in a stroller. They’ve got AR-15’s on their shoulders, Glocks on their hips, cute little 9mms in ankle holsters. One of the women has a pink tactical weapon that looks like it might deliver lethal valentines. They’re from a group called Open Carry Texas, and they’re out on this hot summer night in the small town of Temple, an hour north of Austin, to exercise their constitutional right to carry firearms. The drunk…

THE KILLERS THE MULTIVITAMIN Why: It’s been shown to reduce the risk of cancer in men over the age of fifty. For men under fifty, it enhances organ function and optimizes cell repair. Daily dose: One pill, half with breakfast and half with dinner, to optimize absorption and maintain steady levels in your bloodstream. For maximum effect, an older-guy make like Centrum Silver has higher amounts of the most impactful vitamins and minerals. Prevents: BABY ASPIRIN Why: Thins the blood, prevents clotting, and protects against arterial disease and strokes. Also decreases risk of six cancers, including colon and prostate. Daily dose: Two tablets, at night, with warm water. There can be risks—aspirin can affect the body’s platelet function, making your bleeding time longer; it can also irritate your stomach—so as…

1 BUTTER RDA: About one tablespoon (or an eighth of a stick) a day. Even though recent studies found no evidence linking butter to higher incidence of heart disease, most doctors still advise moderation. 2 EGGS RDA: About one a day (but no more than six a week). Also: Poached and boiled eggs are better for you than scrambled and fried. 3 MARIJUANA RDA: One joint a day; studies show anything more could lead to respiratory problems. 4 RED MEAT RDA: You shouldn’t be eating red meat every day; instead, limit yourself to 18 ounces of lean, unprocessed red meat a week. (Processed meats like sausage, bacon, and salami have been linked to all kinds of ailments and should be avoided.) 5 COFFEE RDA: Five 8-ounce cups of filtered coffee…

Hello, folks, welcome to Atavist. My name is Jason, and I’ll be your server this evening. As you’ve probably heard, Chef is very passionate about honoring the whole animal with his cooking. While you’re looking at the wine list, I have a few specials to tell you about. For appetizers, we have a kimchi tripe soup, which is a bit spicy, finished with sriracha and topped with a thin slice of beef tongue, which is fried to a nice crispy texture, and a single dollop of locally sourced headcheese puree. Next we have Chef’s wry take on Cracker Jacks. It’s a brown cardboard box full of crispy cod-cheek morsels and deep-fried cod livers drenched in a maple marrow butter and topped with grated, cured cod skin and spider legs. Also,…

For reasons that are too insignificant to get into, I used to see Donald occasionally. We played some golf. Anyway, a couple years ago, maybe a little longer, I was in Chicago with Esquire’s publisher, Jack Essig, when my assistant called to say that Mr. Trump must speak with me. We set a time for the next morning, and at the appointed hour, the phone rang and it was his assistant. And then it was Donald. The conversation began as every phone conversation with him begins: “David: Donald.” He was calling about some disparaging remarks that had been made about him on Esquire.com. And here—in a rough transcript that I started typing while I was on the phone with him—is how a conversation with Donald Trump goes: “David: Donald. David,…

Outside of biopics, black actors rarely get to play the hero in boxing films. And so Creed, the seventh Rocky installment, due November 25, represents a real opportunity. The film was written and directed by Ryan Coogler, the architect behind Fruitvale Station, a movie about a young black man who was shot in the back by a public-transit police officer. If a film about race can be told through boxing with any nuance, Coogler is the guy to do it. Creed, which was not being screened for journalists when this issue went to press, centers on Adonis Johnson (Michael B. Jordan, who starred in Fruitvale Station). He’s the son of Apollo Creed, who, if you remember 30 years back to Rocky IV, was killed in the ring by Russian giant…

by Ryan D’Agostino Eight years ago, Bill Petit sat tied to a pipe in his basement, listening helplessly as his wife and two daughters were tortured and later murdered upstairs. Today, he is remarried, has a young son, and runs a foundation he hopes can carry out a fraction of the good his family would have done had they been given the chance. How does a man get from there to here? It’s a question former Esquire editor Ryan D’Agostino first broached in the pages of this magazine in 2011, and he answers it even more fully and grippingly in The Rising (Crown, $26). Though D’Agostino is unflinching in his reporting—covering both the crime and the trials in devastating detail—The Rising is above all a compassionate and thought-provoking look at…

The best, most enduring cocktails are almost always simple things, with no more than two or three core ingredients. Gin and dry vermouth; whiskey, sugar, and bitters; rye, sweet vermouth, and bitters; white rum, sugar, and lime juice; tequila, Cointreau, and lime juice; cognac and white crème de menthe (okay, so we like stingers). Made with care and quality ingredients, they are delicious 100 percent of the time, day in, day out, world without end. And yet. After 100 perfect old-fashioneds, that perfection doesn’t stop us from wondering if just this once it could be a little . . . different. Back in the 19th century, in the first golden age of the cocktail, bartenders remedied the situation by keeping the drink exactly the same except for the addition of…

THE OTHER KIND OF BACKSTORY: WHERE TO BUY A USED WATCH Without all that worry about getting scammed At last: No more back-alley dealings with anonymous Craigslisters only to realize later that your new vintage watch has the right hands but a bum bezel. Online company Crown & Caliber, founded in 2012, acts as a trusty middleman between sellers and buyers of pre-owned timepieces. Its staff of watchmakers–some of whom have worked for brands like Rolex and Breitling–open each consigned piece to authenticate its parts. “But you can have an authentic nightmare,” says CEO Hamilton Powell. So they also test and adjust timekeeping and pressure, oil it, and remove any dings. Then your journey with the watch can begin.…

I feel naked without a watch. I switch mine out from time to time—from a Tudor Pelagos to an Omega Speedy to an IWC Mark XVII—but mostly I love my pride and joy: a 1930s pilot’s watch from Hermès. It’s a mechanical watch. It loses a minute a day, and I often forget to wind it. I wear it anyway. Call me shallow, but function is not everything. Yet out of fear of missing out, I also have an Apple Watch—an instrument purported to be so capable that I keep expecting it to change my life. And so I spent much of the summer trying to become the sort of person who needs an Apple Watch. I started with all the possibilities. But stopping the thing from blinking or vibrating…

Josh Ozersky was hungry. He looked like a man who could put it away. And put it away he did, for his own satisfaction, sure. Because Josh Ozersky lived to chow and tell. He was hungry for whiskey and argument (always a good pairing); hungry for validation of his work, which he received but probably distrusted (writers are like that); hungry for camaraderie and song. And, of course, just plain hungry, for the new-school and the old, the salty and fatty, the crispy on the outside and juicy in the middle—especially if it once possessed four hooves and a tail. But deeper than his need to ingest great cooking was his hunger to share his discoveries and to soak in the pleasure of affirmation from his audience. In that sense,…

When I was growing up down south, my only exposure to New England food was postchurch lunch at Red Lobster. As we waited to be seated, I would push my nose against the fish tank’s glass and marvel at the miserable and valuable lobsters inside. I knew never to actually order lobster, even at restaurants that had “lobster” in their name, because they were the most expensive thing in the world. We could order anything except lobster—that would bankrupt us. My fascination only increased when a friend raised in Connecticut informed me about the lobster roll. There was a part of the country where these magical sea beasts were so plentiful that their precious flesh was slopped on hot-dog buns? Apparently, this abundance was God’s way of saying “Sorry for…

In a former Jim Crow–era Greyhound bus depot in Savannah, the Grey melds history and a modern take on southern food. A horseshoe bar frames the former departure gates. Bronze greyhounds stand watch from banquette corners. Faces from the First African Baptist Church—blackand-white photos from 1978—fill the oncesegregated waiting room. And the kitchen pass occupies the old baggage counter, where chef Mashama Bailey doublechecks dishes. Though she grew up in Queens, Bailey spent summers in Georgia and is no stranger to the pork-laden pleasures of soul food. But as a New Yorker (one who matriculated through the kitchen at Gabrielle Hamilton’s Prune), she has a fresh perspective, freeing her from the clichés of the Savannah diningscape: shrimp and grits, crab soup. Her collards, fragrant with pecan smoke, camp out over…

Bang! We arrive at Andrew Carmellini’s seasonal American restaurant in Tribeca, .Little Park, determined to best the “bang bang”—Louis C.K.’s term for two full meals eaten back-to-back—at three of the Best New Restaurants in New York. Our combined weight is probably less than Louis’s, and we’re going to outeat him. This will be fun. Here we are, carefree as a butterfly in a Lunesta ad, all snug in our circular booth at 5:30 with the early birds. Bread? Why not? Cured salmon, beet risotto, rosé. Get the last bite of the duck, because what are we, sultans? We’re going to leave food this good on our plates? Strawberry shortcake before the walk to Shuko. By the time we get there, we might even be hungry again! Bang. We are not…

I look at each experience talking to someone as a whole new world. We were a lower-middle-class family, and every time we bemoaned our fate, my mother would say, “I wept because I’ve no shoes, and then I saw a man who had no feet.” That was my mother’s mantra, and it’s a good one. My father was a beautiful man. When I was a kid, his whole preoccupation was the search for the meaning of life. If a fireman came to the door, he’d invite him in and immediately engage him in some kind of philosophical discussion. Why are we here? Who put us here? What is our purpose? So I had a very down-to-earth, compassionate mother and a head-in-the-clouds, searching father. It was like being raised by the…

Cholesterol Why: Heart attacks and strokes. You want to see your HDL over 50; anything lower could be a red flag. For both triglycerides and LDL, you want to keep things under 100. When to check it: Every five years. Blood pressure Why: Heart attacks and strokes. Keep it around 115/75. When to check it: Every time. Blood glucose Why: Diabetes, which is one of the major risk factors for heart disease. When to check it: Every three years, starting when you’re forty-five. Colonoscopy Why: Colon cancer. When to do it: Every ten years, starting when you’re fifty. (Unless you have parent or sibling family history, in which case start at forty.) After an initial colonoscopy, you may be able to skip future ones and instead get a prescription for…