Author Archives: Rob Crilly

Ketchup, jumbo prawns and a scoop at Donald Trump’s golf club

It had already been a pretty rum week for Donald Trump. Imagine leaving Washington under a cloud, with your VP attending your successor’s inauguration rather than your leaving do. And now there was a Brit standing at his lunch table … Continue reading

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Which normal do you want?

If the last American election was about anger – anger at the disappearing American dream and the lies of a generation of politicians – this one is surely about fear. Fear of a pandemic that has claimed 100,000 lives; fear … Continue reading

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Back on the road: Where’s the bacon?

“Crilly,” I barked at the receptionist. “Do you mind if I eat my cold miserable dinner first and then check in second?” “Sure, honey,” she said in the sort of voice that suggested she had seen it all on the … Continue reading

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I’ll have what the president’s having

You don’t need me to tell you it’s been an unconventional convention week. Like most reporters, I covered it from in front of the telly for the first couple of days. The downside was slipping off to bed after filing, … Continue reading

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Texas toast in El Paso

It’s not so much the flowers, those bundles of white roses wilting in the Texas sun. Nor the cards with the handwritten messages riddled with a faith that is blind to the futility of it all. “Through the darkness light … Continue reading

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A win and a bust in Vegas

This is the other Las Vegas. Take the turning off US95 where you see the iHOP sign and keep going past the Olive Garden until you are surrounded by unglitzy bungalows, their front yards filled with yellow, desert rocks (golden … Continue reading

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A Brooklyn metaphor in a bun

  “Where is everyone?” At 12.40 on a Sunday in September – football season – the bar should have been heaving. The regulars would be a fair way through their half pints of Budweiser. (The smaller glasses ensure it stays … Continue reading

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Live and local in Atlantic City

The whole point of being in Atlantic City was to write about the opening of the Hard Rock casino and resort. You know the places, right? Too-loud music and burgers. Guitars on the wall and burgers. Elvis’s roller and burgers. … Continue reading

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What Anthony Bourdain taught me about food and about a ‘secret’ New York burger joint

It must be the worst-kept secret in New York. But still I can’t find it. First one way and then back the other. In on a door on West 56th Street and out through a bar on West 57th. Finally … Continue reading

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The Irma burger

There was a point when I wondered whether they were pulling my leg. I got the bit about their elegant home being built on the highest point of Broward County. And I followed the logic of wanting to be in … Continue reading

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