You, reading this. I don’t know who you are, or where you are. I don’t know if you’re just starting your day, padding in socked feet into the kitchen to boil water for the French press, pulling out eggs and cream as you toast an English muffin. I don’t know if you’re still half-asleep, rolling over in a tangle of white cotton sheets to fumble for your phone on the bedside table and read a few blogs to wake up, assiduously avoiding the news for now.
Read moreBUTTERY HERB CRACKERS
Traveling has been a given for so much of my life—and I’ve been thinking about it lately, in the way we’re all wont to fixate on things we can’t have (at least, in this case, for the foreseeable future). I’ve been so lucky to visit far-flung places starting at a young age. And there have been plenty of adventures closer to home too, thanks to an ever-rotating roster of family vacations. We’ve flown in big commercial jets and wobbly prop planes or driven hours in our old blue Volvo to get to places like the tiny island of Pine Cay or the waterfalls in Hilton Head or the turquoise shoals of the British Virgin Islands or the cool, piney forests of the Poconos. We’ve hiked and biked and kayaked and sunbathed.
Read moreSUMMER STEAK SALAD WITH ROMESCO SAUCE
I wear natural deodorant, but I used to swear by Old Spice Red Zone (for exercising) and Secret Platinum (for every day). In fact, a younger me would have pulled a face at the very thought of using a brand you could find in a Vermont co-op that “takes two weeks to start working”. Once I moved to New York after college, I started treating myself to twice-annual trips to the luxuriously quiet spa on the fifth floor of Henri Bendel for haircuts. I assumed I’d continue as such for years.
Read moreHONEY SEMOLINA PECAN COOKIES
I’m remembering a warm evening last summer—in my mind’s eye, I’m driving in the waning light, the day growing dusky and golden, the air soft and humid as the temperature slowly drops. My windows are down and I have the music on loud. The National’s “Bloodbuzz Ohio” is playing and I’m half singing, half humming along to the words. Lay my head on the hood of your car…I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees.
Read moreHERB-CRUSHED PASTA
The hydrangeas are blooming. Yesterday I walked over to the garden and spotted two small zucchini nestled just beneath the bright tangerine-colored blossoms, and one row over, three snap peas jauntily hanging from the vines, their delicate tendrils snaking up the metal trellis. Arugula is coming along nicely, as are various lettuces and a hardy species of blue-green kale. At the far edge of the garden is my favorite plant: a small round bush of basil with broad leaves and pretty purple flowers that grow straight up in whirled cylinders. It’s not regular basil, the sort that you’re used to tasting in tomato sauce and lasagna and piled on top of pizza.
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