Rasmus Munk, the celebrated Danish chef, has such memorable eyes— they are a piercing blue, and often bloodshot—that when a waiter at Alchemist, his restaurant in Copenhagen, served me an eyeball, I recognized it immediately. The iris was f lecked with brown and rimmed with red, and the eye stared up at me unwaveringly, at least until I picked up a long-handled spoon and dug in. It had a gleaming gelatinous surface and was both salty and creamy, with a surprisingly nubby texture and a distinct taste of—what was it?—shrimp.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة September 30, 2024 من The New Yorker.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
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هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة September 30, 2024 من The New Yorker.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
HOLIDAY PUNCH
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THE ARCHIVIST
Belle da Costa Greene's hidden story.
OCCUPY PARADISE
How radical was John Milton?
CHAOS THEORY
What professional organizers know about our lives.
UP FROM URKEL
\"Family Matters\" and Jaleel White's legacy.
OUTSIDE MAN
How Brady Corbet turned artistic frustration into an American epic.
STIRRING STUFF
A secret history of risotto.
NOTE TO SELVES
The Sonoran Desert, which covers much of the southwestern United States, is a vast expanse of arid earth where cartoonish entities-roadrunners, tumbleweeds, telephone-pole-tall succulents make occasional appearances.
THE ORCHESTRA IS THE STAR
The Berlin Philharmonic doesn't need a domineering maestro.
HEAD CASE
Paul Valéry's ascetic modernism.
