I've spent the past few days in the mountains. My mother has just completed her final summit to become a 46er, which means hiking all 46 mountains in the Adirondacks over 4,000 feet. It's a serious badge of honor amongst hikers. She's been at it for a few years now, logging miles of trail and generally becoming even more of a badass, epic all-around person. To mark the occasion, my sisters and I joined my parents for the last few hikes. After a very grueling 14 hour hike on Friday, we got to the trail bright and early on Saturday for the final ascent.Read More
Strictly speaking, it's not quite peach season. It's that odd, in-between month where stone fruit spills over the stands at the grocery store, but hasn't shown up at the farmers' market yet.
But once you start thinking about peach pie, it's really hard to go back. We're already down that path. So we're going to make some pie. Except, the early days of June make 8 ripe peaches hard to come by, so we're going to throw some strawberries in to make up the extra volume!Read More
Lunchtime was rough for a few years of lower school. I brought sensible lunches from home; my friends ate strawberry Pop-Tarts and Pringles and crustless PB&Js in little individual packages. My second grade teacher once caught me sneaking a plate of French fries in the cafeteria. She pulled me aside and sternly asked if my mother knew I was having those, and would she approve? Instead of meekly answering (no, of course she doesn’t, sorry), I gave a sassy "yup!", hurried to my table, and savored each salty bite.Read More
What do you cook during a summer rain? I like pasta – comforting and simple, but light enough for wet but warm June evenings. I worked on Squam Lake in New Hampshire as a backcountry caretaker one summer, and there I’d eat a lot of quick, easy meals cooked over a camp stove. Each night, I drive the Boston Whaler out to my worksite: a tiny, worn cabin on a small island with dried pasta and pesto from the fresh basil in our garden.Read More
Strawberries have reached peak perfection at the farmer's market. The red Tristar berries are tiny and deep red, stems still attached. Pale green cardboard pints of them crowd the tables, jostling for view. They win out for me over more sensible purchases: zucchini, snap peas, radishes. You know you don't need 2 pints -- strictly speaking -- but they're juicy and voluptuous and enticing. Everyone oohs and aahs over them, like wedding guests seeing the bride for the first time.Read More