I was in kitchen, making dinner, when my 8-year-old son yelled from the family room. “Dad, car chase!”
Here in Los Angeles, we have our share of high-speed car chases — if you’re old enough to remember the O.J. Simpson murders, you’ll recall we even have slow-speed car chases. We’ve got a lot of cars, a lot of freeways, and a fair percentage of people doing things they shouldn’t be. I typically don’t pay much attention — it seems prurient, like staring at a car wreck or a topless woman on a European beach. But once in awhile, I get sucked in. Which is what happened the other night, as I cooked chiles rellenos. More
