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My grandparents emigrated to New York from Russia. I went in the opposite direction and consequently have spent the last 13 years as a New Yorker in Paris. People are always asking me if I miss New York and seem shocked that I chose to leave. The truth is I like being a New Yorker in Paris more than being a New Yorker in New York, where, let’s face it, we’re a dime a dozen. It’s kind of like Superman. On earth, he’s a superhero — faster than a speeding bullet ... able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. But back on Krypton (with its presumably higher gravitational pull), he’d just be one Kryptonian among others, a mere pedestrian going about his not-particularly heroic business. Not to suggest that New Yorkers are some sort of super race or that living there is a bore, but being an expat does have its perks. For starters, you get to actually miss and appreciate all those things you once took for granted. And if you’re like me, this phenomenon will manifest itself almost exclusively through food. What begins as a minor homesick craving — say, for a fresh bialy from Kossar’s or a piece of cheesecake from Junior’s — builds into a full-blown culinary obsession. The next thing you know you’ve spent two weeks trying to make the perfect fill-in-the-blank from your composite food memories, which pretty much explains this book. Basically, these are the recipes I crave most when I miss New York and, as such, they reflect my own idiosyncratic experience of New York food — a mix of Greek diners, Jewish delis, old-school Chinatown, American junk food, American health food and a bunch of other stuff tossed into the melting pot. Put it all together and you’ve got a one-way ticket to NYC. Enjoy the flight! M.G.