It's been a rough month. In one small bright spot, there is the fact that, right now, in November, after the hurricane, after the first snow, you can eat a better-tasting tomato than you have eaten all year. (Thanks, global warming.) Over in Park Slope, Scalino on 7th Avenue and 10 Street is still serving up a "Jersey Tomato Salad," but not for long. Go today or within the next week, because the guy who runs the place told me that's as long as he'll have this particularly fantastic batch of tomatoes he gets from a farmer he knows who probably likes Bruce Springsteen.
Reports intrepid Elle reader Emily Gould, whilst at the pedicurist: "The Reese Witherspoon profiler, as per Reese Witherspoon usual, had to try to make a story out of how Witherspoon has become an expert at being completely opaque to reporters. They met in a courtyard outside Reese's production company, Reese was late, there was some confusion about salads, one assistant ushered the reporter in and another told Reese when it was time to leave, and in the meantime they talked about absolutely nothing." And more.