My arms were full but they were so cute. Perched on the edge of a table at the farmers market, you couldn’t walk passed without giving at least an endearing glance at the little cartons of donut peaches. They would become dinner.
I love salads with oomph. It’s hard to accomplish without bacon, but it’s possible if you have cheese and grill marks. Both were at my fingertips.
I started with the cheese. The thought of creating it yourself in your own kitchen is extremely exciting. What’s fantastic about homemade ricotta, is that it’s delicious and incredibly simple to make. I’m not joking. I’d never tried it before because I hadn’t taken the 3 minutes to buy cheesecloth (the only specialty item required). That’s actually the hardest step, buying the cheesecloth. So, once that laborious process is over, you can get into comfy clothes, make ricotta and drizzle the leftover (nutritious) whey on your dog’s dinner. (Yes whey.)
Some things don’t need a long explanation, they just deserve a “kwik” acknowledgement. Farm fresh heirloom tomatoes with burrata, basil, a drizzle of balsamic and olive oil, a dusting of salt and pepper…and Bob’s your uncle.
note: If you haven’t heard of burrata, it is a purse made out of solid mozzarella filled with mozzarella and cream. It is as good as it sounds.
It must have been the sound of women’s gymnastics in the background. I wanted to make ratatouille, but didn’t want it in just one form. I wanted two incarnations, two opposing flavor profiles. A competition of nations. So, I made rata-TWO-ie.
It was too hot to move, but I thought ahead to later that afternoon when it would still be too hot to move, but we’d be hot and peckish. Wishing for something crisp, refreshing, quenching. Then it hit me. Thanks to my late grandmother, Irene, I had a simple and delicious idea. It was something she would make on hot summer days at the farm in New Hampshire. It was time for Danish cucumber.
10 years after a cliché, yet life-changing experience as a backpacker through Europe, I returned. We went to Paris. But, I didn’t have to stuff a pack into a locker and wear flip-flops in the shower. This time, there were chocolates waiting for me on my pillow, along with the weather report for the next day. I could get used to this.
There’s no time to beat around the bush, so here is the long and short of it. 2 weeks ago, I walked into my local pet store to get cat food and walked out with a puppy. Since that fateful day, our days and nights have consisted of puppy training books, vet visits, thousands of comments uttered such as “good girl”, “No!” and “ouch!”, and more conversations regarding “number 1” and “number 2” than I ever thought humanly possible. People in the neighborhood actually started talking to us despite the fact that we’ve lived within the same block radius for 6 years. I’m also still begging forgiveness from the cats.
Ah, wilderness. Oxygen. I was fortunate enough to escape the city Memorial Day weekend to Montauk.
I woke to the sound of trees rustling – actual trees – and the chatting of birds over the comforting low hum of the ocean. Aside from my feeble attempts to tan (I swear, I can tan) I knew the days would consist of meal plotting by day and evenings with hungry, sandal-clad friends and family…
Sometimes, there is no competing with hamburgers and hot dogs. My mission: feed the masses with large mounds of summertime flavor. I wanted something that would scream, “Look at me, I’m delicious…and you can have seconds without awkwardly asking for someone to throw another dog on the grill.”