The costs of 30-year mortgages and new car loans have been inching down in recent months, welcome news for borrowers who have endured years of high prices and high interest rates. These borrowing costs are expected to fall further: The Federal Reserve is poised to cut its benchmark interest rate on Wednesday, and officials are […] More
The legislation would require state employers — not workers — to pay for mandatory safety instruction. It awaits the governor’s decision.The California Legislature is moving to require employers to compensate food service employees for the cost of food safety training mandated by the state’s public health laws. If signed into law, the legislation would overturn a common practice in which employees cover the expense of obtaining the certification themselves.The measure, Senate Bill 476, which cleared the State Senate by a wide margin in May, passed the Assembly on Tuesday, 56 to 18. After a Senate vote on concurrence with amendments, the bill will be sent to Gov. Gavin Newsom, who has not signaled whether he will sign it or veto it. Asked for comment for this article, the governor’s office said it had nothing to report.The bill’s sponsors cited a New York Times investigation published in January that showed how the National Restaurant Association, a lobbying group, raises millions of dollars from workers through the fees charged by a food safety training program it administers, ServSafe. The most widely used safety program in the country for food and beverage handling, it is used by waiters, cooks, bartenders and other retail food workers.The restaurant association, a business league representing over 500,000 businesses — along with state affiliates, including the California Restaurant Association — is frequently involved in political battles against increasing the minimum wage or the subminimum wage paid to tipped workers in most states.The investigation found that more than 3.6 million workers nationwide have paid for the industry group’s classes, bringing in roughly $25 million in revenue since 2010. That is more than the National Restaurant Association spent on lobbying during the same period and more than half of the amount association members paid in dues.Labor leaders and some business owners said they were unaware of the arrangement.“I had no idea that’s what they were doing,” said Christopher Sinclair, a restaurant owner from New York now based in Sacramento, who helped organize a push to outlaw the practice.The training, costing about $15 for most workers, involves mastering information in a set of slides, typically over a few days, and then passing a test that lasts about two hours. Much of the information is basic, with lessons like the importance of daily bathing and how to recognize mold on produce. In four of the largest states, including California, such training is mandated by law; in other cases, companies require the training for managers and some employees.The California Restaurant Association and the National Restaurant Association declined to comment for this article, but both have vocally opposed the bill, arguing that workers benefited from training. The “food handler” card received upon completion of the training is portable from job to job, and it is valid for three years before having to be renewed.At a rally with workers outside the State Capitol on Tuesday evening after the Assembly passed the legislation, Saru Jayaraman, the leader of the labor-advocacy group One Fair Wage, said the legislation could have an impact beyond California.“They are using that money from low-wage workers to fight us all over the country,” she said, referring to the restaurant association. “The biggest part of this bill is that it will stop the flow of cash from two million workers in California to the nation’s largest restaurant lobby.”Member dues typically make up a large share of funding for industry business leagues. But executives with the National Restaurant Association have noted that dues make up a small portion of the group’s revenue compared with ServSafe and other business initiatives. More
Sign up to watch the livestream and connect with online attendees about solutions to the climate crisis on Thursday, Sept. 21.Climate change is an issue that stretches across borders, touching every facet of our lives. Addressing it likewise requires shifts in almost every industry and institution. On Sept. 21, The New York Times will bring together newsmakers, including innovators, activists, scientists and policymakers, for an all-day event examining the actions needed to confront climate change.The livestream is available for Times subscribers.Sessions will include:Ajay Banga, president of the World Bank GroupAl Gore, former vice president of the United StatesBill Gates, founder of Breakthrough Energy and co-chair of the Bill & Melinda Gates FoundationEbony Twilley Martin, executive director of Greenpeace USAEleni Myrivili, global chief heat officer to U.N. Habitat and the Arsht-Rock Resilience CenterMarie Kondo, tidying expert and founder of KonMari MediaMichael R. Bloomberg, founder of Bloomberg L.P. and Bloomberg PhilanthropiesRobin Wall Kimmerer, scientist and authorTimes journalists, including the managing correspondent for the Climate Forward newsletter, David Gelles, and domestic correspondent, Somini Sengupta, and national food correspondent, Kim Severson, will drive the conversation.Signing up for the livestream will also give you an opportunity to connect with other online attendees on the messaging platform Slack. Each day will feature a different topic and guests, along with prompts from Times editorial staff.Details about the Slack channel and event schedule will be shared after registering. More
When the pandemic first disrupted the U.S. economy — and economic data — in 2020, The New York Times changed the way it reported certain government statistics. Now, with the pandemic shock no longer producing exceptional economic gyrations, it is changing back.On Thursday, with coverage of the Commerce Department’s preliminary estimate of U.S. gross domestic product for the fourth quarter of 2022, The Times is again emphasizing the annualized rate of change from the prior quarter, rather than the simple percentage change from one period to the next.In the United States, G.D.P. figures have traditionally been reported at an annualized rate, meaning the amount the economy would have grown or shrunk if the quarter-to-quarter change had persisted for an entire year. Annual rates make it easier to compare data collected over different periods, allowing analysts to see quickly whether growth in a quarter was faster or slower than in 2010, for example, or in the 1990s as a whole. But annual rates can also be confusing, particularly during periods of rapid change. When shutdowns crippled the economy early in the pandemic, G.D.P. contracted at an annual rate of nearly 30 percent. To nonexperts, that might sound as if economic output had shrunk by nearly a third, when in reality the decline was less than 10 percent. As a result, The Times decided to emphasize the quarterly change in its coverage, a decision explained in detail at the time. (The Times continued to provide the annualized figures as well.) But now — despite ongoing disruptions tied to the pandemic and new challenges, like high inflation — economic data is beginning to look more normal. So The Times is returning to its practice of reporting G.D.P. and related statistics as annualized rates. More
I created a hype coin to show how risky an investment can be. The coin had other plans.Times Insider explains who we are and what we do, and delivers behind-the-scenes insights into how our journalism comes together.When I conducted a little experiment recently for an article to highlight a corner of the cryptocurrency world, I knew I was creating something that would live on after the piece was published. But what happened still took me by surprise.As a business reporter based in London, I have been riveted in recent months by the booming popularity of so-called hype coins. These are the down-market, volatile cousins of Bitcoin, the graybeard of the cryptocurrency world. There are more than 70,000 of these coins — with names like Klaytn, Chiliz, Helium and others you’ve never heard of — and a few dozen new ones are created each day.On its face, the hype coin phenomenon is one of the most baffling financial crazes in history. At least if you went bust during the tulip mania in the 17th century, you could end up with some tulips. Hype coins have no intrinsic value. But investors and venture capitalists have swooned for them. More than 80 have a market value in excess of $1 billion.To enlighten readers, and myself, I made my own hype coin. I spent about $1,000 of The New York Times’s money — yes, I first cleared this outlay with editors, and we discussed the legal issues of this project with Times lawyers — to create and promote it.I christened it Idiot Coin. The name was just one part of an effort to dissuade anyone from hoping it would “moon,” or soar in value. I wanted this thing to flop, and for very solid legal reasons. Two lawyers who specialize in cryptocurrency law explained to me that hype coins are securities and that anyone who markets one with the intent to get rich could earn some unwanted attention from the Securities and Exchange Commission.I made 21 million Idiot Coins and put seven million up for sale. Here’s where I really tried to sabotage this enterprise. Developers of new crypto will kick-start trading by putting money into a “liquidity pool.” The details here get complicated, but suffice it to say, most coin makers pour about $10,000 into their pools. I put up $30.I had essentially created a car that had two sips of gas, max. The point was to demonstrate how easy it is to make and promote an utterly useless commodity. Then, I would watch that commodity wobble into oblivion. That’s not what happened.After the article was published online, a few dozen people showed up in the Idiot Coin account on Telegram, an encrypted messaging platform. A handful started making very amusing memes. Someone named DragonX posted an image of a wide-eyed toddler, tonguing a window, under the words “Wen [sic] I’m not licking windows I’m buying Idiot Coin!”Others were eager for the coin to earn a fortune. “Let’s get on that idiot moon!” IceMaster0x wrote. It will never moon, I kept replying to would-be boosters. That didn’t stop a few dozen people from snapping up coins, often by the hundreds of thousands.On the morning of Aug. 10, the total market value of the coin stood at about $6,000. By that evening, it had gone up 10 fold. The next afternoon, nearly all of the coins were sold and the market value had reached $108,000. It went down, then to a new high. On Monday afternoon, it stood at $68,000.Selling the coins would probably crater the price. This modest pot could vanish in a few frenzied minutes. But if the increase persists, the money will go to charity.For now, a curious kind of camaraderie has taken shape in the Telegram account for Idiot Coin, with voices and opinions from all around the world. (Shout out to Rusty from Kazakhstan.) “Only buy if you are an Idiot,” reads a meme that keeps getting posted. Some urge stratagems that might cause the coin to appreciate. Others argue that such a notion is way off brand for a currency named Idiot Coin.As I type this, I have no idea what will happen next. What’s certain is that some people will invest in just about any venture, even one designed for failure. More
A recent Times project that examined how the tech giant manages its workers took months of reporting and hundreds of interviews.Times Insider explains who we are and what we do, and delivers behind-the-scenes insights into how our journalism comes together.Last summer, amid a hiring spree at Amazon so gigantic it left historians struggling for comparisons, Karen Weise, a Times reporter who covers the company from Seattle, brought up a puzzling question to her editors. Approaching the million-worker mark, Amazon was on track to becoming the largest private employer in the United States. Yet, in spite of solid wages and generous benefits, it was quickly cycling through employees. Why?Executives had an “almost palpable fear of running out of workers,” she said later.In August, she got a call from Jodi Kantor, a Times reporter in Brooklyn who was talking to workers from a variety of industries who were struggling with strict rules about time and attendance during the pandemic. She wanted to look more closely at “time off task,” or T.O.T., Amazon’s practice of monitoring workers by the second and disciplining them for too many unexcused pauses.One hot day in a New York City park, Ms. Kantor met with Dayana Santos, an employee who had been repeatedly praised by her bosses but fired for too much T.O.T. during one bad day filled with mishaps she said were beyond her control. Ms. Santos’s story raised fairness questions, and a business one: Why would Amazon, voracious for workers, fire a good employee?Those questions led to a recent Times investigative report on the company that revealed systemic problems in its model for managing workers, such as unbridled turnover, minimal human contact, an error-plagued leave system, delayed benefits and mistaken firings.Ms. Santos had worked at JFK8 on Staten Island, a compelling setting for a potential investigation: the only Amazon fulfillment center in the nation’s largest city, operating under maximum pandemic pressure to deliver to homebound customers. Other media outlets had examined working conditions, injury rates and numerous other aspects of Amazon warehouses. The Times reporters, focusing on JFK8, had a different goal: to understand the connection between the company’s employment model and its astonishing success. They set out to chronicle Amazon’s core relationship with its humongous, growing work force — who got hired and fired, and the rules, systems and assumptions that governed everything in between.But JFK8 was vast — about 5,000 employees in a space the size of 15 football fields — and managers and human resources workers were reluctant to talk. Ms. Weise contacted corporate employees, many of whom never responded. To help tackle the huge project, Grace Ashford, a researcher on the Investigations desk, joined the team. Together she and Ms. Kantor spent many hours on the phone and at the bus stop outside JFK8, including on Prime Day, asking workers about their experiences.Often, Ms. Kantor and Ms. Ashford found that new hires were grateful for the pay but left after a few weeks. “Amazon was a lifeline for them, until it wasn’t,” Ms. Ashford said.Knowing that their requests to interview Amazon’s most senior executives were long shots, the reporters had to find creative ways of understanding the culture inside JFK8. They spoke with human resources staff and corporate leaders, who described Amazon’s glitchy, strained systems and the business challenge of maintaining staff during a public health emergency.Ms. Weise took masked walks with Paul Stroup, a data scientist who had tried to steer Amazon through the crisis but left thinking Amazon could do better by its workers. Ms. Kantor spent the fall shadowing Ann Castillo, who was struggling with Amazon’s treatment of her severely ill husband, a JFK8 veteran.Back office employees at a different location, in Costa Rica, described the partial collapse of the company’s leave systems early in the pandemic, leading to problems like halted benefits for Mr. Castillo.Data obtained through public records showed that Amazon’s overall work force was largely Black and Latino, but internal documents revealed that Black workers at JFK8 were disproportionately fired.After Ms. Santos, the worker fired for T.O.T., applied for unemployment, Amazon contested her benefits. In an obscure New York administrative court, the company filed internal policy memos that provided a rare inside glimpse of the T.O.T. system.After almost 200 interviews, a picture emerged of a company that “seemed far more precise with packages than people,” Ms. Kantor said. Amazon had tried to grow its business quickly by creating a giant semi-automated machine for hiring and managing — but that system often stumbled.Ms. Weise was able to confirm that while the company boasted of job creation, turnover at the warehouses was roughly 150 percent a year — a figure never reported before — meaning Amazon had to replace the equivalent of its entire warehouse work force every eight months.That number, and the entire project, took on deeper meaning when David Niekerk, the architect of Amazon’s warehouse human resources system, told her the turnover was more or less by design. Jeff Bezos, Amazon’s founder and chief executive, had sought to avoid an entrenched work force, fearing laziness and a “march to mediocrity.” So upward mobility and raises for warehouse workers were limited.As Ms. Kantor wrote and Ms. Ashford continued to report, Ms. Weise led a delicate, six-week effort to confirm the voluminous information in the story with Amazon and garner its responses. By then, the company had provided some input, including a tour of JFK8 by the general manager and an interview with Ofori Agboka, head of human resources for the warehouses, who defended Amazon but acknowledged that the company had leaned too heavily on technology and self-service.As part of the fact-checking process, the reporters repeatedly asked Amazon about the T.O.T. policy and Ms. Santos’s firing. Shortly before the article was published, Amazon announced an immediate policy change: No longer could someone be fired for one bad day. Ms. Santos and others were eligible for rehire.The article elicited a strong public reaction, tips from other employees who want to tell their stories and an outpouring of reader comments. (“It was not Bezos who made Amazon. It was all of us who bought from it,” one said.) On July 1, Amazon announced an addition to its leadership principles — critical guidelines for internal decisions and management — that focused on being a better employer.In coming months, the focus is likely to be on whether Amazon will change some of the practices that have propelled it to dominance, either because of internal action or outside force.“They say that broadly, their work force is happy, and their internal surveys say that more than 90 percent would recommend working at Amazon to a friend,” Ms. Weise said.“But 150 percent turnover in a year means that something isn’t working for many people.” More
Times journalists asked leading companies about the racial makeup of their work forces. The responses, or the lack of them, were revealing. Here, the reporters discuss what they found.Leaders in the fashion world have pledged to address racism in their business. But to determine whether anything is improving, reporters for The New York Times felt they needed a concrete set of data about the current state of Black representation in the industry.Reporters asked prominent brands, stores and publications to provide information about the number of Black employees and executives in their ranks — including those who design, make and sell products; walk runways; appear in ad campaigns and on magazine covers; and sit on corporate boards. But of the 64 companies contacted, only four responded fully to a short set of questions.In a recent article, a team of reporters published the responses from the companies, along with personal comments from Black stylists, editors and publicists. Below is an edited conversation with those journalists: Vanessa Friedman, Salamishah Tillet, Elizabeth Paton, Jessica Testa and Evan Nicole Brown.What was the biggest challenge in telling this story?VANESSA FRIEDMAN The absolute lack of consistency. You’re dealing with global organizations that speak to a variety of markets, tapping into a whole bunch of different kinds of cultural areas. They’re headquartered in different countries with different demographics, different histories, different issues with racism and different laws. We had one set of very simple questions, less than 10, that felt like the most basic, obvious things everyone could answer. But only four companies out of 64 answered completely.When did you realize the inability to answer the questions was the story?FRIEDMAN You write what you find, and we felt that it was important to get across that if you have that level of chaos in the basic information, until you can make that into a clearer picture, you can’t actually know when progress is happening.Why weren’t the companies able to answer these questions?ELIZABETH PATON Every company had its own reservations and issues and reasons. I think, to a degree, it had to do with culture. For example, how the Italian brands perceived what we were trying to do was different than the Americans. I mean, legal reasons were part of it, but the American companies notably provided more information than the European companies did. I actually think that America is in a slightly different place in its conversation about race at the moment.JESSICA TESTA It was almost surprising how reluctant some of the magazines were about participating because their numbers were the ones that were actually going to reflect well on them. I do feel like we were getting resistance from all sides, but one thing we did hear was, “I’ll be interested in participating next time.”What has the response been like to the story?PATON The majority of brands do understand the work that we’re doing, even if they found the questions really uncomfortable. A couple of brands were disappointed that their efforts were not more recognized, even if they hadn’t given us full answers. I haven’t heard any brand telling us that we made a mistake in trying to undertake this project. They recognize they need this scrutiny to change.You also interviewed people about their experience working in the industry. What did you take away from that?EVAN NICOLE BROWN It was important to me to find the intersections, but also the differences, in what Black professionals in this space felt. Sometimes people in the past have been asked to comment on things, and there has been a fear that might work against them, or their concerns would be misunderstood, but I feel like this project did a really good job at making people feel comfortable to speak. I think that this platform was appreciated, and it felt like there was no fear in terms of just sharing those really honest experiences, which definitely helped the piece and helped confirm the data or lack thereof.What questions remain really interesting to you?SALAMISHAH TILLET For me, how do you continue to diversify the leadership at the top? And then what are the structures and what are the assumptions that happen in those spaces that prevent that leadership from becoming more and more diverse? Because we would like to continue to change all aspects of the industry and all levers of the industry, but if the top remains monolithic, then really they’re the ones who are determining how the other aspects of the industry are also changing alongside it.BROWN I was really interested in the tension of where classism comes up in this conversation as it relates to representation. Even if representation in the fashion industry improves on the race front, there’s still work to be done on the socioeconomic front. Through this reporting, that was illuminated more for me — which communities are being reached and what the ideal consumer is for so many of these places we’re discussing.What do you want readers to take away?FRIEDMAN I think we learned a lot about where the sticking points are and the need for a clear picture of what is going on. You cannot move forward until you know where you are. And it is just time for us all to know where we are with this industry. More
#masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Coronavirus OutbreakliveLatest UpdatesMaps and CasesRisk Near YouVaccine RolloutGuidelines After VaccinationAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyTimes InsiderA City Strapped: Photographing a New York in NeedThe pandemic shattered the city’s economy, affecting people’s homes, livelihoods and wallets. One photojournalist documented the hardships, as both a lament and a tribute.Madison Avenue on the Upper East Side, last September.Credit…Ashley Gilbertson for The New York TimesMarch 10, 2021, 5:00 a.m. ETTimes Insider explains who we are and what we do, and delivers behind-the-scenes insights into how our journalism comes together.Last year, as the coronavirus began spreading in New York, I worked closely with Renee Melides, a photo editor on the Business desk, on a photo essay that visualized the city as it became a global epicenter of the pandemic. When that piece was just a concept and life still seemed somewhat normal, the two of us sat over a coffee. To this day, it’s the only time I’ve had an editor green light an idea mid-pitch.“Yes,” Renee said, interrupting me. “Do it. Now.” And I walked outside and started photographing.Back then, anxiety and uncertainty dominated New York, and when the story ran, it led with an image of a man praying during a meal in a Greenwich Village McDonald’s.With that story published, I pulled back from daily assignments as a freelance photographer in an attempt to understand the virus, as well as the risks that my family and I faced. I never stopped working, though. Instead, I moved through many parts of New York on long daily runs. Nine miles out, nine miles back. I’d pass through different neighborhoods, assessing and acknowledging changes by shooting on my iPhone.For a while, the pictures were mostly empty streets, ambulances and those frightening freezer truck morgues. Then the spring surge abated and people started emerging, and the vulnerabilities of our city, exposed by the virus, became more apparent than ever. I would post images to my Instagram account, unsure of what else to do with them or even what I was trying to say.I could see that inequality had become more pronounced, observing the rich and the needy forced to share the same sidewalks. I watched as stores closed down on street corners one by one until nothing but “For Rent” signs remained, and I found myself stunned as I moved through parts of the city that were once thronged by tourists but were now empty. One day in Times Square, as I sat waiting for a pedestrian to pass through a composition I had made, it was quiet enough for me to hear the sounds of the traffic lights changing.The Coronavirus Outbreak More
#masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }At HomeMake: BirriaExplore: ‘Bridgerton’ StyleParent: With ImprovRead: Joyce Carol OatesAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyTimes InsiderChange by the Plateful: Covering Restaurants in a PandemicTo capture New York’s food scene in these times, I’ve adapted to many roles. But the essence of my job remains the same: hunting for a good meal.Pete Wells’s review of the restaurant Falansai was his first based solely on takeout and delivery.Credit…Adam Friedlander for The New York TimesFeb. 17, 2021, 5:00 a.m. ETTimes Insider explains who we are and what we do, and delivers behind-the-scenes insights into how our journalism comes together.In November, Falansai, a Vietnamese restaurant that had closed at the start of the pandemic, was taken over by a new owner and chef named Eric Tran. I was intrigued by his menu, which included confit duck necks and a seafood curry soup made with peanut milk. The backyard was supposed to be open for outdoor dining on warm nights, but there weren’t any. Too curious to wait for spring, I placed a delivery order, using my own name instead of an alias so the courier would know which bell to ring.Mr. Tran told me later that when he saw the order, he and his sous-chef asked each other whether they were cooking for the Times restaurant critic.“Why would Pete Wells order delivery from us?” the sous-chef asked.“Maybe he’s hungry?” Mr. Tran replied.I was. But I was on the job, too, and that first order persuaded me to review Mr. Tran’s restaurant without eating on the premises at all. It was the first review I’ve written based solely on takeout and delivery but, as restaurants, and my attempts to cover them, continue to adapt to the pandemic, I imagine it won’t be the last.For months after all the restaurant dining rooms in the city were forced to close last March, I wrote nothing that resembled a review. The entire business and all the people in it were suffering, and I spent my time as a reporter, finding out how some of them were getting along. I quickly learned that when talking with anybody who had earned a livelihood from restaurants or bars, I needed to budget at least an hour.Before the pandemic, I normally called chefs after I’d written a review of their restaurant but before it was published, to check facts. The chefs usually sounded as if I were calling with the results of a lab test. One chef called me back from a hospital and told me his wife was in the next room giving birth to their first child, but — oh no, don’t worry, it’s fine, he said; in fact, I’d picked a perfect time to call! These were, in other words, awkward conversations.The ones I had last spring were different. It was as if the fear and distrust all chefs feel toward all critics were gone. They talked about going bankrupt, they talked about crying and not wanting to get out of bed. What did they have left to lose by talking to me?By June, the crisis had settled into a kind of desperate stability. I was starting to run out of restaurants-in-extremis ideas when, midway through the month, the city announced that restaurants could serve on sidewalks and in the streets. On the day outdoor dining began, I rode my bike into Manhattan to have lunch at the first open restaurant I could find. I was as thrilled to eat someone else’s cooking as I was to do something that resembled my old job.It still took a few weeks before I wrote any reviews. At first, I worried that any opinion of mine would be unfair when restaurants were trying so hard to adapt to the new reality. Eventually, I understood that that was exactly what would make the reviews worth writing. Good food in a pandemic was great; great food seemed like a miracle, and I was finding great food all around.My pandemic reviews note the ways that restaurants have trimmed menus and simplified dishes, but even the shorter, stripped-down versions had a lot to praise. There was something that got to me about these small businesses — some of which had opened in the pandemic, all of which were fighting for survival — trying to bring New Yorkers some joy while keeping them healthy. I didn’t want to just report on it. I wanted to bang a drum so people would pay attention.The decision not to put stars on the reviews, as The Times has since the 1960s, was easy. Formerly, I tried to make the stars reflect how close any given restaurant came to being an ideal version of itself. But in the pandemic, there were no ideal restaurants, only places that were making it up as they went along.Almost everything about outdoor dining appealed to me: the street life, the flower pots, the shoestring architecture of in-street platforms. Even the weather played along, staying mostly dry and temperate nearly through the end of December. But there was no question that by Christmas it was getting too cold to dine al fresco.In my reporter mode, I had been told by scientists, airflow engineers and other experts how Covid-19 is transmitted, and all last summer and fall I felt fairly certain that eating outdoors could be relatively safe for everyone. (Some public-health experts believe that now, even outdoor dining in New York City is unsafe while the local risk of Covid transmission remains very high.) I did not have the same certainty about dining indoors or about some of the plywood structures I call enclosed porches, particularly their windows and doors, which are closed so they have almost no ventilation. I have walked away from several of those.I wanted to keep reviewing restaurants, but I didn’t want to go back into their dining rooms both because of the risk and because I was afraid readers would take it as an all-clear signal. When the governor halted indoor dining again in December, my selfish reaction was relief. Then I briefly got depressed. How would restaurants survive? And how would I keep writing about them?One answer had already started to appear on sidewalks and streets in the form of small greenhouses, huts, tents and yurts. Inside these personal dining rooms, you can (and should) sit just with people from your own household. If the restaurant thoroughly airs the space out between seatings, any germs you breathe in should be the same ones that are bouncing around your home. Many restaurants instruct their servers to stay outside the structures as much as possible, though some don’t. Indoor dining is back on in New York, but for now, I order more takeout than I’ve ever done in my life. I am still going on my rounds, too, but I dress differently these days. The other night, I put on thermal underwear, thick wool socks, a heavy shirt, synthetic-blend trousers and a bulky sweater. After lacing up my lined hiking boots, I packed a scarf and a Microfleece travel blanket into a tote bag. Then I strapped on a couple of masks. I looked like I was embarking on an overnight snowshoeing trek, but I was only going to Manhattan to chase down some tacos.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More
