Laura Anderson

No need to be a lonely vegetarian on campus anymore­—just head to the Lerner Party Space at 7 p.m. on Tuesday nights.

In the never-ending rivalry between Columbia and NYU, our downtown adversary usually has the edge when it comes to neighborhood bars.

The first time I walked by a branch of France’s frozen food emporium Picard, I was not overtaken by a desire to go inside.

You can find a café on almost every corner here, but it’s nearly impossible to get a good cup of coffee in Paris.

On clear days, when the forceful cold winds known as “mistrals” have carried the clouds and mist away from the horizon, you can see the Alps from the top of Mont Sainte-Victoire.

It’s fitting that Isaac Peretz looks a little as though he could be a member of the Israeli mafia, given his incontestable domination of the Parisian falafel market.

Last semester, for the final project of a journalism class I was taking, I decided to interview a French chef named Gilles Ajuelos about the current state of French cuisine.

I lived in the spare room of a Parisian family’s apartment for the majority of the fall semester, and though I had a number of reasons for wanting to leave, being unable to cook for myself was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Taste memories are funny things, especially when the food evoking them seems as though it couldn’t be farther from the food that’s being remembered.

My friend Nick, who had spent a summer in Paris studying fashion, told me before I left the States about a particular sandwich shop he loved during his months abroad. “They had these huge, like, prosciutto and cheese sandwiches on baguettes,” he said. “And they were so cheap! I know you don’t eat ham, but they had some without meat, too. You should try to find this place.”

Late autumn comes to Paris much as it does to New York. Cold air slinks in and takes up residence in the spaces between buildings.

Quick, the fast-food restaurant chain indigenous to France and Belgium, recently mounted a widespread ad campaign around Paris to celebrate its newest menu items. In what its advertising team has christened “Cheese Mania,” Quick is offering three new kinds of cheeseburgers for two weeks each.

Ironically, my big French food revelation came when the only food in sight was a half-empty bag of chips lying forgotten among empty beer bottles and ashtrays.

My mother, who came of age in the ’60s, has told me for years that a woman should be able to go to a restaurant and eat a meal all by herself.

The French don’t make eye contact, so to keep myself from inadvertently offending or flirting with my fellow Metro passengers on my daily commute, I’ve found that it’s useful to keep my nose in a book.

There is a corner bakery-cum-pastry shop on the three-block walk from the Raspail Metro stop to Columbia’s campus at Reid Hall.

During academically stressful periods, one may yearn for the days in which women had little to worry about but their appearance and charm.

Most people are content to leave macrobiotic food to celebrities.

Vegetarian food has struggled for decades against a reputation for being bland, stodgy, and painfully unhip.

In his famous poem, Don Juan, the ever-Romantic Lord Byron writes: "[H]appiness for man-the hungry sinner!/ Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner."

New York is a tough town for a chocolatier. To make it here, you have to compete with the likes of Max Brenner's chocolate-topped waffles and crepes, Vosges Haut-Chocolat's bizarre cheese-and-chocolate concoctions, and La Maison du Chocolat's snooty Parisian attitude.

Columbia University has been home to many debates throughout the years over issues such as racism, war, and free speech. One debate, though, that has not reached critical mass in Columbia's halls, despite being at least as contentious as the ones that have, is the debate over foie gras.

The stretch of Broadway between 112th and 113th streets is one of those quintessential New York blocks on which a number of different restaurants share a small amount of space-and not much else. Deluxe and Tom's Restaurant deliver old-fashioned American food, while Caffe Pertutti serves fettuccine and gnocchi.

You've undoubtedly noticed them as you've reached for your Greek yogurt across the aisle. There they lurk, suspended between the tubs of hummus and the stacks of tortillas. Perhaps you've picked one of them up, looked at its label, and asked yourself, "Vegan turkey salad? Who would buy such a thing?"

Yes, they are the vegetarian, vegan, and macrobiotic prepared foods sold at Morton Williams, mostly under the brand names Karen & Sisters and Macro Vegetarian.