I never set out to be a food writer. Until 1980, my main goal in life was staying skinny. When a particular friend first came to visit me in Philadelphia that year, all he saw in my refrigerator was a can of cat food and a few bottles of beer. He swears there was Coke, too, but I never trusted myself to have the stuff in the house - that was for sustenance at my job on the copy desk at the Philadelphia Inquirer. Home is where the calories weren't.

As my friend evolved into my consort, he first convinced me that a little food wouldn't fatten me and then reminded me that cooking it is one of the most pleasurable things a human can do standing up.

By the time I decided I really hated my new job, on the national desk at the New York Times, I knew exactly what to do. I took out a $5,000 loan, gave notice and headed off to the New York Restaurant School to become a chef. My destination turned out to be the Evelyn Wood School of Cooking - we learned French cuisine one day, Italian the next and Chinese on the third - but it was the perfect place for a college dropout with a short attention span who wanted instant knowledge along with credibility in the food world.

After fast but brutal stints at the stove at Sarabeth's Kitchen and as a caterer in my own kitchen, I had another epiphany: Writing was a lot easier on the feet than cheffing. I sold my first magazine story to Travel & Leisure and never looked back.

For 15 years I freelanced for magazines ranging from Esquire to Farm Woman News, from Vogue to Military Lifestyle. I wrote regular columns for the New York Times Magazine and Health and also contributed to Saveur and Metropolitan Home, Food Arts and SmartMoney, Allure and House Beautiful, among the many. I had one book published and two stymied and edited a couple more. My life was my blissful work.

And then the New York Times came calling again. I was lured back in late 1998 to be deputy editor of the Dining In/Dining Out section, but it didn't take me long to realize that rewriting was nowhere near as much fun as writing. Starting in 2001, I reported stories on subjects as diverse as Andre Soltner and Wayne Thiebaud, America's best-selling food magazine (not Gourmet), cooks' and restaurateurs' recovery from 9/11, eating in Chicago, Christmas in Montreal, fruit carts in Manhattan and the post-Euro dining scene in Paris.

For 11 months I had the best job at the paper, until the Dining editor went west and the section went south. I quit and am now agonizing over a book, freelancing for magazines and writing for the Los Angeles Times on contract from New York.

Through it all, I have been lucky enough to travel on my stomach. And even with absurdly restricted vacation time in Times years, my consort and I have still gotten around the world, on assignment or on our own dime. We've eaten everywhere from Hong Kong to Cuba, from Pantelleria to North Wales. Always there are more tips than we can share. And so here is Gastropoda.

(I update Bites and Trails every Sunday unless I'm traveling, Readings whenever I come across a book that's a revelation and Stories when I'm happy with a Story.)

Why I do what I do. . . .