Now that was a great summer.
Mild weather.
Lots of swimming.
Long lazy afternoon lunches.
Twilight dinners.
Old and new friends.
Cooking for 30. Cooking for 1.
Immersed in a river in Eastern Washington with a cup of Sangria made by a dear friend.
The carving of a massive 20 pound slightly perverse zucchini.
Things have changed.
The boy mentioned frequently in my last post is no longer in my life. I will no longer refer to him or his culinary choices. It was a good run while it lasted but consistency is key.
Speaking of consistency, I have sorely neglected this seedling of a blog. I have thought of it often, maybe like one thinks of the mountains of boxes lying in the attic above them. Treasures galore, but the weariness sets in and summer is just outside.
But I can honestly say, I have fallen more in love with food than ever and this summer I cooked with feverish joy and curiosity. With time and space (physical and mental both), inspired by articles, books, moods, friends and boredom.
As we venture into Autumn, my favorite season, I hope to reflect back on some good recipes and good times. This blog currently lives in Los Angeles where seasons are subtle and intricate. A bounty awaits. I want to follow it, pick at it, explore the possibilities.
Back in my small apartment with my clumsy ill-equipped kitchen. My cat lies next me, eyes closed, arms overhead in full surrender. Fall down, fall in. Eat up, eat out. Record these adventures. They come and go so fast.
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