Something is missing from this weekend's "Living Spring" edition of the New York Times' Sunday fashion magazine T. On the cover, you can see a lady with her mouth open, about to chomp on some sort of sandwich with her painted lips/teeth. There is a food theme if you look close: on one page, there's a piece on sausages, elsewhere there's one on ice creams and one on Japanese mochi. Also a thing on ice buckets in Tokyo bars. Whatever! The whole thing is quaint enough, but aggressively, nauseatingly girly through and through.

And so the people want to know: what happened to the boy Oliver Schwaner-Albright and his column for manly men who love getting their hands dirty in the kitchen?

As you may remember, loyal Weekend readers, Oliver was last seen in T cooling behind the wheel of the astonishingly good "Mantry" column, a regular T feature intended to "[demystify] cooking for greenhorn gourmands." Note the French grammar there, boys: this column was definitely not for the ladies in the room (go play somewhere, was the idea—go read some Maureen Dowd or, heh, 'make us a sandwich'). You could tell by his subject matter that this man meant business: last time he named like 15 million different kinds of salumis; before that, he did a piece on how to cook on a slate, a piece of rough stone machinery that can be constructed out of building materials from Home Depot. Sorry for cussing but Oliver Schwaner-Albright was all dick and that's how we liked it.

Today there is no Mantry. Today Oliver Schwaner-Albright wrote an article about "New Orleans iced coffee" and the "puzzling rituals" involved in its making. He mentions someone's mother in the second sentence. Worst of all, some broad went and wrote about Salumis in "The Talk" this week, a slap in the face as emasculating as it is preposterous.

Go back to what you know best, Oliver. We know you read the blogs so don't ignore us. We like you; we can't all be Harvey Mansfield and we require your help. The world needs the Mantry.