black currants


sweet bing cherries


tart cherries

a flash of color!
berries dance in the market
sweet summer moment.

J. made this for me because he's full of good things and has to share some of them in order to avoid bursting open, which would be terribly unattractive and inconvenient.

A splendid summer sweet, this dessert is lovely to look at and tangy-sweet-refreshing to consume. I will attempt to relay the assembly list for you:

Lime-Basil Gelato (Il Laboratorio del Gelato)

New Jersey Blueberries

Torn Fresh Mint Leaves

Drizzle of Lime-Blossom Honey

If you were serving this to a crowd, I'd ask you to consider chilling the plates in the freezer and putting down a gingersnap or a teaspoon of poundcake crumbs before plating the gelato. That'd keep the meltiness at bay while you do up a series for your lucky guests.

Bon appétit!

You love it when you find a site that's well-organized, nicely designed, a little quirky and rich in information, right? Yeah... me, too.

So you'll understand why I'm so, so smitten with beeradvocate.com. I've been using this site for three hours now (it's for work.... really), and I'm just bowled over by how easy it is to find information on just about anything you need to know about a particular beer or beer in general.

You'll have to join up to dig into the details (fret not... it's free), but if you have any interest at all in learning your helles from your happoshu and what kind of food to serve with Pauwel Kwak (game, salmon), it's well worth eight ounces of your time, effort and info disclosure.

Cheers, ya'll!

mel·on·cho·li·a (n.)

A mental disorder characterized by hopelessness and withdrawal stemming from a realization that the melon season is short, while the rest of the year is filled with charlatans masquerading in the market stalls.

Six melons you need to befriend:

1. Crenshaw... seductive, sexy, sweetly spicy with rich, gold-pink flesh
2. Charantais... queen of the melon patch reigns in a cloud of delicate, floral scents
3. Casaba... custard-smooth sweetness with a hint of its cousin, the cucumber
4. Juan Canary Melons... honey-perfumed and creamy white-fleshed
5. Ambrosia... intensely orange, sweeter and muskier than the muskmelon
6. Persian... firm, orange flesh that blends the fragrant flavors of air and earth

Melons love to be near: ginger, prosciutto, manchego, mint, lime, lemongrass, chili, nutmeg and arugula

ButterBurger. A short argument with a side of junkfood.

Scene: Boy and girl in moving truck enroute from Chicago to Seattle.
Time: 11 a.m.
Place: Somewhere in Wisconsin

Girl: (gazing out passenger window) "Hold on a minute... did you just see that sign?"
Boy: (driving) "Huh?"
Girl: "That sign. I thought it said something about a... Butterburger."
Boy: "Oh, sure. Culver's. Home of the Butterburger.
Girl: Butterburger? Please! As if those things aren't portable heart attacks anyway... Why do they need to go and add a bunch of butter? Everything is so stupid here. I'm glad I'm leaving.
Boy: Shut yer ignorant pie hole... There's no butter in the burger. They butter the bun. They're good. I used to eat 'em in Madison. We should stop.
Girl: We can't! I mean... well, maybe we could. But we just ate breakfast. No, we can't. Definitely no. Hey! What are you doing?
Boy: I'm pulling over. We can't leave the Midwest until you've eaten a ButterBurger...
Girl: No! You can't make me!
Boy: Oh, wait... But oooh! Look who's driving the truck! Aw, yeah... You know who's driving the truck.
Girl: (unrolling window) I'll throw myself out the door and splatter all over the highway! And I swear I'll do it this time!
Boy: Please. Nobody will notice. You'll get chewed up under the tires and look like standard interstate roadkill in the space of five seconds.
Girl: You're heartless!
Boy: You're bluffing.

(Girl stews. Boy drives.)

Girl: Fine. I'll eat one. But you have to order a chocolate shake and dip your fries in it.
Boy: Bgah! Gross!
Girl: No... good. Seriously. It's like... well... I don't know what it's like. But it's good. It's all, like, fat and sugar and hot and cold and... you know... good. Promise me you'll try it.
Boy: I'll promise no such thing. That's disgusting.
Girl: Fine! Fine, then! You expect me to try your filthy cow patty and you won't even try fries in your shake? You're a bully. You're an awful bully and I'm not eating your stupid, ugly burger.
Boy: Suit yourself. You can sit in the truck while I eat my stupid, ugly burger.
Girl: Good. I like the truck. The truck is my friend.

(Boy gets out of truck and walks toward building.)

Girl: (Shouting after him) Do you hear me? The truck is my friend!

(Girl can see Boy through the glass windowpanes... ordering, paying, gathering condiments. Girl stews, then salivates, licks her lips and leaves the truck. She joins Boy in line as he waits for the order.)

Girl: Mine's no cheese, right?
Boy: Yup. No cheese... chocolate shake on the side.
Girl: What? No fries?
Boy: Fryer's down.
Girl: Mmm. No fries.

Oh, no! Cap'in! It's got the FISH!

I know, I know... You thought the future of food came in pill form, like the ones they popped on the Jetsons. All your nutritional needs met in one tiny, utilitarian package. No joy. No flavor. No chewing. No socializing. Just three squares a day condensed into hard, gray pills.

Granted, you don't have your flying car or your robot maid, but aren't you glad you were so very wrong about that food thing? (For the sake of mental peace I'm setting those disturbing national trends toward Jamba Juice, Vitamin Water and Power Bar meal replacements off to the side, of course.)

But lo! Yesterday, a sharp-eyed friend sent me a link to the real deal in space-age dining: the food loop. Yes, the future is here and it comes in the form of epic oven battles between your roast and this wacky pink trussing tool. Place your bets, gather 'round the oven, and watch the gripping death match.

While you're at it, raise a toast to the decidedly old fashioned "meal."

From an article on the tiffinwallahs (lunch couriers) of Mumbai, India... men who daily deliver home-cooked meals to working folks via bicycle, handcart and commuter train:

They are generally hardworking and devout, and they view the act of feeding people as a noble job, "a social service," says Medge. "To deliver good, hot, fresh food is our first satisfaction."

"Reporter: Lunch Couriers" in Saveur, May, 2005

To those who might secretly harbor notions that Paris or Milan have already cornered the market on enchantment, I submit Brown — a shoebox cafe on the Lower East Side with fantastic fresh food fare.

Details are affectionately observed. Fussiness is turned away at the door. Coffees and brunch are crafted with love and presented with the most quiet, subtle panache.

If you're curious about the food you'll be eating at Brown, simply stop by its petite next-door specialty-shop sister... Orange. Here's where you'll see the walls loosely lined with exotic, imported oils; the counter lineup of rich cheeses supplied by Mitica, the savory, fennel-scented sweet Italian sausages; the delightfully spicy chorizos; the juicy, organic cherry tomatoes. Lucky you... these are the components you'll soon see on your plate.

Morning sunshine. Outdoor seating. Eggs baked in tiny skillets. Idyllic, yes? Better yet, my dining companion informs me that a third sibling will soon be added to the taste triumvirate.

A sweet shop, he thinks. Guilding the latte, I think.


Brown & Orange
61 Hester St
(btwn Ludlow & Essex)
Lower East Side, NYC
212.254.9825

More fun at the farmers' market... my produce girl recommmended these lovely 8-ball zucchini. What veg lover could bypass such adorable little squashes? Besides boasting a beguiling green skin, they also have a satisfying heft in the palm. (No squash tossing allowed, kiddies.)

The name is whimsical fun, but in fact, these little babies are closer to the size of a baseball than an 8.

Produce Girl likes 'em sliced, fried and used in sandwiches, on pizza, in wraps, etc. Online, dominant theories seem to lean toward scraping out the insides and stuffing 'em. They'd be fab with a ratatouille, but here's a handful of other fillings to try...

Orzo Stuffing

Sausage & Fennel Stuffing

Feta & Basil Stuffing

Vase of Nasturtiums with Dance II
by Henri(-Emile-Benoit) Matisse

Nasturtiums. Look for 'em next time you're at the farmer's market. Quiz your Great-Aunt Bea to see if she sprays hers for pesticides and plot a midnight raid on her flowerbeds. Prime your windowbox now... there's still time for a late-summer harvest.

Nasturtiums are wholly edible — flowers, stems, leaves, flowerbuds and seeds — and they add a peppery kick to salads, sandwiches, cream cheese and compound butters. Infuse some in your favorite white wine vinegar to lend your winter days a touch of color and cheer.

Praise their beauty. Appreciate their vigor. Devour them whole and grin.