Nowhere is it written how to comport oneself upon having been unhorsed right in the middle of a victory lap.
But Ruth Reichl, locks tousled and banged in that trademark Grace Slick cascade, tunic-and-pants outfit right out of the '70s, was giving it - on a book-tour stop here Monday - a chin-up and not uncharming college try.
"What's next?" she answered a questioner at a dinner at Supper, the restaurant at 10th and South: "Beats me."
She is (or rather was, for 10 years) the editor in chief of Gourmet, the 68-year-old dowager of food magazines she'd whipped into the 21st century, in her estimation shocking the fuddy-duddies with pieces on the "Tomato Slaves" broiling in Florida's fields, and Water (yes, a "Water Issue"), the Latino culinary revolution, and David Foster Wallace's unsparing essay on the final agonies of the innocent Maine lobster.
