Sharing stories of food stories we love.
Here we are again. Autumn is slowly appearing, teasing its way into the muggy heat that still sticks like a blanket over everything.
Cool, crisp air greets me when I leave the house in the morning. Yesterday I wore a fleece jacket when the sun went down. Walking home today, I skirted an idling delivery truck outside the grocery store, unloading crates and crates of pumpkins in all shapes and sizes.
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Some things in life are too good to be kept to yourself. These cookies are one of those things. I've spent the past few days at home on the farm, and the day I got home I spent about 10 minutes extolling the virtues of this recipe, which I'd made the previous day. Finally, I just stopped talking and started assembling the ingredients. After all, tasting is believing, and I think everyone who tries one of these cookies will quickly become a convert.
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Let's get down to business. The business of toast, obviously.
Apparently toast is a trendy thing to eat (see: $9 slices of toast in San Francisco cafes, entire New York Times articles discussing toast, multiple single subject cookbooks on toast!), which leads me to wonder why the sudden resurgence. Are we rediscovering it? Does that mean people en masse stopped eating it? Did everyone else get a memo sometime in 1992 to stop eating it, and then again in 2014 to start again?
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Treasure hunts: Why don't we do these anymore? With the exception of a team-bonding scavenger hunt throughout New York City to kick off a truly wonderful (jk, jk) summer internship in investment banking, I don't get invited on a lot of treasure hunts. Granted, I am neither 5 years old or a pirate, but still. I feel that we're missing out.
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New York City isn't the sort of place where people just pop over for dessert, or to borrow a cup of sugar, or crash your Wednesday night dinner if they smell brown butter and sautéed mushrooms wafting down the stairwell.
I've lived in all sorts of places where casual near-cohabitation was the norm. Summers in an open tent at camp in Vermont, a few months doubled up in bunk beds in a lakefront house in New Hampshire, and growing up in a sprawling farmhouse with 3 sisters.
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