Bringing Autumn Inside

Dry and scatter your colored leaves. Don't worry if the edges curl up a bit, they look prettier that way. Invest in some tiny seasonal decorations like these felted acorns.

Buy pumpkins of all colors and sizes. These tiny ghost pumpkins march along our dining room table. Traditional orange pumpkins flank the fireplace. Gorgeous knotty squash from our CSA make beautiful decorations -- until we eat them. 

Treat yourself to nostalgic candies that make you feel like a kid again. I can't survive fall without candy corn; the peanut butter M&Ms are a more 'sophisticated' taste. Together, they're a magic combo.  Dahlia season is almost over, but the guy on the corner still occasionally sells big bunches for $5 a pop. 

Roast peppers over open flame.

Roast fall veggies in the oven. This acorn quash was stuffed with a crushed garlic clove, a mix of fresh herbs, and a drizzle of olive oil. The roasted 'meat' became autumnal vegetarian tacos.

Cook with bacon, ideally artisan bacon from a small shop you found while on vacation. Extra points for using a Lodge cast iron pan, homemade stock, and opening an old bottle of red wine to drink with it just because. 

Light a candle. Part of the reason I love fall is because it is a little mournful. The colored leaves that fall off the trees, overcast days, and cozy mornings offer the perfect chance for a little reflection. I like waking up early, lighting a candle, and having a few moments to myself in the dark. The Voluspa Golden Cypress scent from the 'Maison Rouge' collection is my favorite right now. 

How do you embrace this season?

Colored Leaves

Yesterday, as we were driving home to San Francisco from Southern Oregon I must've driven Sean crazy with my ongoing lists of things I loved about autumn: Colored leaves. Red leaves. Yellow leaves. Pumpkins, orange pumpkins, albino pumpkins, fires, fireplaces, candles. The smell of smoke in the air, blankets, boots, scarves, mittens, hats, steaming cups of coffee, apple cider. Picnics, poetry, crisp air, cold nights, fog. Leaves, leaves. leaves. 

In heaven it is always autumn. In heaven it is always autumn. In heaven it is always autumn. 

{Thanks to John Donne for the refrain and to Oregon for the inspiration.} xx

A Simple Autumn Lunch

When Sean's mom gave us an entire set of Staub cookware a couple of years ago, I remember wondering what on earth I would do with the tiniest of the lot, a little casserole that would only hold about a cup of anything. 

I almost gave it to Goodwill but didn't, thinking it might come in handy someday -- maybe for meals or tea parties for someone small and energetic? But now, almost exactly two years later, it's become one of my favorite kitchen items. 

Here's what changed: First, autumn happened. September and October are notoriously warm in the Bay Area but there's still been a shift. And all of a sudden I'm craving fewer salads and more warm and cozy foods. 

Second, we added an egg delivery to our weekly CSA and a healthy dozen arrives every Thursday afternoon. There's just one problem -- Sean doesn't like eggs. Or, to be more specific, he doesn't like "separate eggs." In a pinch, a frittata or strata will be tolerated, and there's no aversion at all to rich baked goods packed with yolks. He'll even gobble carbonara (weird, I know). But dinners that involve just "throwing an egg on it" don't fly. So, I've been eating a lot of eggs lately, and mostly for lunch.

A couple of weeks ago I came up with the totally-obvious-yet-still-brilliant idea of warming leftovers (farro, coconut rice, couscous, rice and beans, roasted pepper and tomato salad) in the tiny Staub and then cracking an egg over the top and setting the toaster oven to broil. 

The resulting egg is perfect. One crack with the tines of a fork and whatever is underneath is drowned in rich, runny, marigold colored yolk. Add a sprinkle of salt and a few minutes for the lot to cool -- warning, it does emerge dangerously hot -- and you've got lunch. It's simple, elegant, and oh so satisfying. 

My hunch is that these tiny Staubs (or Le Cruset) might be pretty easy to find thrifted or on sale, simply because people aren't sure quite what to do with them. So if you see one, add it to your collection. I think almost any leftover tastes better with a good egg cracked on top, and the presentation can't be beat. Needless to say, this makes a great dinner for one or two (how adorable would it be to have a matching set of these?!) and the cleanup is a dream. This is truly a one dish meal. 

One final note: My broil setting is auto timed for about 10 minutes but I find pulling it at 8 minutes is great if you like your eggs nice and runny, which I do.  


Bon Appetit!

The Vacation Drink: A Mai Tai

Sean's dad lives in Hawaii, which means at least two times a year we visit. (Lucky us). Each trip we stay in the same boutique hotel, located way down Waikiki, in the shadow of Diamond Head Mountain, and on the edge of Kapiolani Park. 

This was the view from our room. 

Do you think you'd get tired of this? I didn't. And to prove it, I have about two dozen versions of the exact same photo taken from every possible angle and at every hour of the day. Sun rise, sunset, midday, dark. With billowing coconut trees and misty tropical rain.

The drink of the week was the Mai Tai. 

Seriously, I must have had close to a half-dozen Mai-Tais this trip, way more than any girl should consume in one vacation. Last February when we visited Hawaii, my drink of choice was the Pina Colada. I dreamed Pina Colada. But this trip it was the Mai Tai. Maybe because it's dark hue and sweet-tart taste reminded me a bit of these late days of summer? 

According to See Mix Drink by Brian D. Murphy, the Mai Tai was invented by Trader Vic in 1944. Vic concocted the drink one afternoon for friends who were visiting from Tahiti. After tasting it, one friend exclaimed, "Maita'i roa ae!" which means "Out of this world!" Vic liked what he heard and decided to name the drink the Mai Tai. 

To make your own Mai Tai you need the following:
1/2 oz. Oregat Syrup
1/2 oz. Orange Curacao
1/2 oz. Lime juice
1 oz. Light Rum
1 oz. Dark Rum

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Shake with ice. Strain into a rocks glass filled with ice. Garnish with a Maraschino cherry and a triangular hunk of fresh pineapple (the pineapple is not optional).

If you make a Mai-Tai at home, I highly suggest dressing them up a bit. The one in the above photo is missing the tiny neon umbrella -- something I consider to be The Essential Mai-Tai accessory.

Late Summer, In Photos

Just over a month ago as August was bearing down on me, I wrote a summer do list filled with things I wanted to accomplish before the air got thin, it began to get light earlier, and the crisp evening air demanded that the bedroom window be shut. So, how'd I do? 

I didn't eat an It's-It in the back yard on a sunny afternoon, go to the Coppola Pool, make another batch of jam, or bake with blackberries. But I did can two batches of pickles (a first!), freeze loads of Marcella Hazan tomato sauce, and make a killer Italian Plum Cake no less than three times. 

There still may be time for the things I didn't get to do. After all, summer in San Francisco often starts right about Labor Day. And if not, there's always next summer. 

Did you make a Summer Do list? If so, did you accomplish what was on it? Do you have an Autumn Do List? (Eeep!)

One last note. I've become recently obsessed with Instagram, and all of the above photos were shared there first. You can follow me at "poeticappetite" for photographic bits and pieces of our world. xx

Where to Eat in San Francisco's Mission District

I'm so pleased with how my recent piece for Mix Magazine (THE eat + drink mag in Portland, Oregon) turned out. Curious about where to eat NOW in San Francisco's Mission District? Here's your guide. 

Discovery

 

If you don't know about Remedy Quarterly you must, you must!

RQ is a charming magazine filled with food memories and the recipes that inspired them, interviews with food people, and vintage tips & tidbits. It was started by the very cool Kelly Carámbula who, in addition to being publisher, editor, and designer, also runs the beauty of a blog The Best Remedy. Kelly also gives great travel advice. Thanks to her, Sean and I ended up at the cozy and decadent Manka's Inverness Lodge for our first wedding anniversary. 

My essay about love, discovery, and a life-changing sausage from Rosamunde's Sausage in San Francisco is in the most recent issue of RQ. There's also a killer recipe for curry ketchup, which you're gonna need for all the knockwurst you grill and eat this October. Subscribe today or buy a copy at one of these fine local shops.

Weekend Warrior Smoothie

Usually we're obsessed with granola (the perennial favorite is here) but we go through other breakfast phases too. And this week we've been all about smoothies. 

Many of my most adored smoothie recipes come from one of my favorite blogs, LA in Bloom. I'm so inspired by Heather's stylish LA life, complete with flowers, fabulous dinner parties, and drop-dead gorgeous fashion. But I'm secretly even more envious of her morning routine. There's just something about a super-healthy smoothie followed by yoga, a spinning class, or a long hike that seems so quintessentially Southern California. 

Now that the days in San Francisco are getting a little warmer (August, September, & October are typically our warmest months, just in case you didn't know), the Vitamix has been revving almost every morning. 

Our new favorite is from True Food: Seasonal, Sustainable, Simple Pure, a yet-to-be released cookbook by Andrew Weil, MD, Sam Fox, and Michael Stebner.

I know what you're thinking: Who needs a recipe for a smoothie? 

It turns out we do. Without it I would have never thought to add ground flax or homemade apple sauce* to a smoothie, and I would have never put agave on our grocery list. But what I like best about this smoothie is the name: The Weekend Warrior.  

Go forth and conquer the holiday, my friends. 

Weekend Warrior Smoothie

True Food: Seasonal, Sustainable, Simple Pure; Andrew Weil, MD, Sam Fox, and Michael Stebner

"An all-natural alternative to protein shakes, the Weekend Warrior... provides steady energy. It is the perfect fuel for home renovation projects, Ultimate Frisbee, or other day-off excursions."

1 banana

1 Tablespoon almond butter

1 Tablespoon flax meal

1/2 Greek style vanilla yogurt

2 teaspoons agave nectar

1/2 cup unsweetened apple juice

Put all of the ingredients plus 1/2 cup ice cubes into a blender. Blend until smooth. Pour into a glass and serve. Makes one serving.

* Who needs a smoothie recipe, indeed. I used plain Straus yogurt and 1/2 cup of homemade apple sauce in place of the juice. Because I knew the sauce was made with some sugar, I left out the agave. In the future, I'd make this again with unsweetened organic apple sauce. It adds some thickness to the smoothie that I like, and makes it seem extra healthy. An apple a day, right?

Coming to My Senses

The reason I decided I wanted to write a book about M.F.K. Fisher wasn't because I was obsessed with food and wine. It was because I related on the deepest and most cellular level to how M.F.K. Fisher used food as a metaphor to write about her happiness and loneliness and desire and love.

That piece in Serve it Forth about eating bread and chocolate on a cold hillside? Sure it's about the way a piece of dark, salty chocolate melted into a chunk of crusty baguette and how delicious it is to eat something decadent and unexpected after a long hike. But it's also about getting to the top of that hill. About standing with strangers while your husband (who you don't really get along with anyway) stays at home with his books and his poetry. It's about taking the bread and chocolate from an old man's hand and eating it as the chilled wind whips around your face and you stare off into the distance, alternately happy to be on top of a French hillside taking in the view, and sad because you never wanted to be there without him. It's about realizing that the old Frenchmen standing beside you have been through war and famine in recent years. And yet they are still hiking and laughing and sharing food with you, a young American girl who they can't really talk to and who they have nothing in common with except for this small shared snack.

Those people who think M.F.K. Fisher is just a food writer have it all wrong. 

When Alyssa Harad wrote to me and told me about her book, Coming to My Senses: A Story of Perfume, Pleasure, and an Unlikely Bride, and asked me if I'd read it and consider offering a blurb for the back copy it seemed a random request. I don't even wear perfume. 

But that's the point. Alyssa's book isn't about perfume. It isn't about a fancy bottle or the familiar heady smell that hangs in the air at the mall or a celebrity's newest fragrance. It's about scent. It's about familiarity and treading into the new. It's about discovering who you are and pushing the boundaries  of who you want to be. 

Just like M.F.K. Fisher doesn't simply write about food, Alyssa Harad doesn't just write about perfume. She writes about scent and our sense of smell and how those two things are intimately tied to the people that we are and the women we want to become. Her book is beautifully written and evocative and deeply personal.

I loved this book. In the couple of months since reading it I've found myself picking up small vials of scent and ordering little round jars of solid perfume from artisan producers. Some days I wear nothing at all, others I tuck a little bit here and there and observe how the perfume changes over the course of the day, and how I change when I'm wearing something earthy or exotic or intensely floral.

I'm at the very beginning of my scent journey, that's certain. But just like learning more about food and taste is a lifelong quest, so is this scent business. I love the idea that no matter what my favorite perfume is now, it will change. And that someday, when I look back at these foggy, tomato and basil scented days, ripe with peach juice and mid-afternoon sunshine and sweat, it will remind me of this. August. 

Do you have a signature scent? What is it and how did you discover it?

Making a Real Dinner: Fried Farro and Dark Greens

Here's a dish I simply must tell you about: Fried Farro and Dark Greens. I made it for the first time in Point Reyes, but it's snuck into our weeknight rotation at least two times since. It's easy. It's healthy. It's the perfect meal if I'm eating alone and the leftovers are just as good the next day for lunch, hot or cold. Plus, it's extraordinary topped with a fried egg, or alongside roasted chicken or sausage. 

Last night, I used a big bunch of kale as my dark greens and also tossed in a few fresh herbs (marjoram from our CSA box, basil, and parsley). Sean's was served with a pan fried chicken sausage, mine was topped with half an avocado. 

I like to call this kind of dinner "peasant food." Simple and hearty, these aren't always the most attractive dishes but they are -- without fail -- my favorite to consume.

Add in a little farmer's market bread, a chunk of Gruyere, and a bottle of pink wine. Suddenly the mid-weeknight is feeling less frenzied, more authentic. Just the way I like it.

Fried Farro and Dark Greens

Adapted from Off the Menu by Marissa Guggiana

1 cup farro

1 bunch dark greens (kale, chard, collard)

3 Tbl. olive oil

2 garlic cloves, chopped

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Spread the dry farro on a sheet pan and toast it until a little brown, about 10 minutes. Toasting the farro will enhance the flavor. Note: Alternately, I've done this step in the toaster oven (simply toast the grain) as well as pan toasting it in a hot frying pan before cooking the grain. All methods work well.

Coarsely chop the dark greens. In a medium saucepan, bring 3 cups of water to a boil and add the greens. Cook over high heat for 5 to 8 minutes; drain and set aside. 

Combine the toasted farro with 2½ cups salted water in the saucepan. Bring to a boil, lower to a simmer, cover and cook for 20 to 30 minutes or until done. Drain the farro.

Heat a medium cast-iron skillet or other heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat. Add 2 tablespoons of the olive oil, and the garlic. Stir-fry for a few minutes, until the onion is just tender and beginning to brown. Add the farro along with the remaining tablespoon of oil and continue to fry to encourage browning, constantly stirring to avoid burning, about 6 to 7 minutes. After the farro is fried, add about 2 cups (or more) of the cooked greens and warm through. Serve immediately.

The Summer Do List

The moment the calendar flipped over to August I was struck with a level of panic that's normally reserved for small school children. I know summer isn't technically over yet, but there's no more vacations on our horizon and there's a half-dozen zucchini in every CSA box we get. Not to be dramatic, but the end is near.

The finish of summer is particularly painful because we don't really get what I consider a "real" summer in San Francisco. We can usually sleep with the windows open, but there are no chirping crickets, no hot mornings that require tank tops and iced coffee, and very, very few sunburns. 

Thus, the End Of Summer Do List. It's -- you guessed it--  my attempt to make sure we do some of those things that all of you living in sweltering temperatures do without even thinking about it. Things like eating popsicles and grilling peaches. Things that should be obvious summer goals to hit, but are occasionally hard to accomplish when the fog begins to roll in at 4PM and the August daytime high is a balmy 64 degrees. 

Here are a few of the things on The List:

Eat an It's-It in the back yard on a sunny afternoon. 

Can tomatoes. 

Make another batch of jam. (I made strawberry-vanilla in July, but I'm dreaming about stone fruit. Apricot? Plum?)

Grill anything that can be grilled instead of cooking inside. 

Dine alfresco. 

Drink more rose. 

Do yard work.

Play hooky and go to the Coppola Pool. 

Bake with blackberries. 

Make ice cream. Maybe this recipe? Or this one? 

Ultimately this is a very quotidian to-do list, one that should be easily accomplishable in summer's remaining weeks. Meanwhile, I'll keep on living the everyday, and that means finding things to do with all that August zucchini. This zucchini-orange marmalade tea cake is a start. The recipe is from Tartine Bakery, which is  only a couple of miles from our house. Even though the cases at the bakery are filled with all kinds of pastry and creme and confection, this humble loaf is usually what catches my eye. It's a super moist cake (and yes, I know people hate that word but saying damp just won't do). Those of you who like not-too-sweet cake will find it really hits the spot. 

But, I digress -- and my numerous digressions are part of what leads to the necessity of the End of Summer Do List. So -- get out there and conquer summer. Make a list. Eat ice cream. Because this pang in my heart tells me it's all going to be over before we know it. 

Zucchini and Orange Marmalade Tea Cake
From Tartine Bakery, San Francisco

1 3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 large eggs
1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup orange marmalade
2 1/2 cups grated zucchini
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup walnuts, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 x 5 inch (23 x 12 cm) loaf tin.  Set aside.  Sift the flour, baking soda, baking powder and cinnamon in a mixing bowl and set aside.  In a separate bowl, mix the eggs, oil, sugar and marmalade until just combined.  Scrape down the sides of the bowl and add the flour until just combined.  Add the nuts until incorporated.  Pour into the prepared loaf pan and smooth the top.  Bake for 60-70 minutes until a tester comes out clean.  Let cool on a wire rack for 20 minute, then turn out to let cool completely. Keeps well, up to five days. 

Green Pea Soup

A few weeks ago I made pea soup for M.F.K. Fisher. It sounds kind of silly, but I like to celebrate her birthday every year. I feel sort of like she's my kindred spirit/fairy godmother and to honor her birthday just feels right. I typically make a big, three course meal, drink lots of rose or Champagne, and then ease into the 4th of July celebration. It works. 

This year I was feeling a bit more retro in my approach. Maybe it was because I had just finished reading The Help and was seriously obsessed with the idea of making a layer cake. But it was also because as I've gotten a bit older, I've begun to think of Fisher's creative life a little differently. 

After I turned in the manuscript for An Extravagant Hunger, I got to work curating pieces to include in two new books of Fisher's writing: Love in a Dish and Musings on Wine and Other Libations. Both are collections of "lesser known" Fisher pieces. The books include a lot of pieces that she wrote for magazines like House Beautiful, Holiday, and House and Garden. These are not the lyrical wanderings of a girl eating bread and chocolate on a French country hillside. This is the work she did for pay. The articles with menus for June bridal lunches helped get food on the table and care for her two little girls. 

I've long believed that Fisher felt alienated by the prissy, ultra-feminine, domestic culture that was so prevalent in the Post World War II 1950s. The magazine pieces she wrote during that time embraced the zeitgeist, but they don't really reflect how she felt about food and nourishment. In fact, I think that culture (in addition to her family responsibilities) may be why she didn't publish more during this time. 

I understand more than I used to how hard it is to write for pay versus writing for love. And maybe that's what I was trying to honor with this menu -- Fisher's creativity and talent, her ambition and her hard working attitude. Because there is a difference in the work we do for love and the work we do because we need to work. 

We began with pea soup, followed by chilled chicken-tarragon salad and greens, a cheese plate, and a towering chocolate cake with strawberry icing. Note: I don't really think Fisher was a layer cake kind of gal. But I do think she was a woman of convictions, and I was convinced I needed to bake a cake. Tout suite. 

The pea soup was, of course, a direct homage to Fisher who wrote several times about peas grown on a Switzerland hillside:

"But what really mattered, what piped the high unforgettable tune of perfection, were the peas, which came from their hot pot onto our thick china plates in a cloud, a kind of miasma, of everything that anyone could ever want from them, even in a dream. I recalled the three basic requisites, according to Fanny Farmer and Escoffier... and again I recalled Sidney Smith, who once said that his idea of Heaven (and he was a cleric!) was pate de foie gras to the sound of trumpets. Mine, that night and this night too, is fresh garden peas, picked and shelled by my friends, to the sound of a cowbell."

{From P is for Peas, from An Alphabet for Gourmets by M.F.K. Fisher}

Is this soup heaven? Who knows. But it sure seemed perfect that night.

Fresh Pea Soup

From the Barefoot Contessa At Home

Ina notes: This soup can be served hot or cold. If served cold, allow the flavors to chill in the fridge for a bit. If you can't find fresh peas, frozen are just fine. 

I note: Who wants to shell 5 cups of fresh peas? Frozen are fine.

2 Tablespoons unsalted butter

2 cups chopped leeks, white and green parts (2 leeks)

1 cup chopped yellow onion

4 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade

5 cups shelled peas or two 10 oz packages frozen peas

2/3 cup fresh mint leaves, loosely packed

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper

1/2 cup creme fraiche

1/2 cup chopped fresh chives

Garlic Croutons, for serving

Heat the butter in a large saucepan, add the leeks and onion, and cook over medium-low heat for 5 to 10 minutes, until the onion is tender. Add the chicken stock, increase the heat to high, and bring to a boil. Add the peas and cook 3 to 5 minutes, until the peas are tender. (Frozen peas will take only 3 minutes). Off the heat add the mint, salt, and pepper

Puree the soup in batches: place 1 cup of soup in a blender with the lid on top and puree on low. With the blender still running, open the vent hole and slowly add more soup until the blender is 3/4 full. Pour the soup into a large bowl and repeat till all the soup is pureed. Whisk in the creme fraiche and chives and taste for seasoning. Serve with garlic croutons. 

Garlic Croutons

1/2 loaf good bakery white bread (French, Italian) sliced 1/2 inch thick

1 large garlic clove

2 tablespoons good garlic oil

Kosher salt and black pepper

Remove crusts from bread slices and cut into 1/2 inch thick cubes. 

Crush the garlic with the side of a large chef's knife and discard the peel. In a medium sautee pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat and add the garlic. Cook for 1 minute until the garlic starts to brown, and then discard the garlic. Add the bread cubes, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and cook over medium heat, tossing occasionally, until browned on all sides. 

Untitled

All I have for you tonight is a few photos. Photos from our vacation that I meant to post and write about immediately (and beautifully!) as part of an effort to be more committed to writing and to this blog. And then, I got busy. Except I wasn't busy, I was just avoiding.

For those who have been vacationing in a New York Times free zone, or who reached their limit on free articles like I did this month, you might not know that busyness, and the anxiety that is produced when we worry we aren't doing enough, has been a hot topic lately.

First, Tim Kreider wrote a piece called The 'Busy' Trap. Next, the chorus weighed in with odes to summertime, to hammock swinging, to long afternoons trapped by an all consuming book. {For the record, this wasn't supposed to be another voice in that clamoring chorus. I hope I'm at least successful in this.}

So the thing is, at first I really was too busy to write. Sean and I spent two blissful weeks in Pt. Reyes, where my daily schedule went something like this: Wake, make coffee, move to recliner chair. Work (a bit), think, write. Lunch. Write, think. Long hike. Shower, wine, read till the sun drops away. Dinner. Friday Night Lights. Repeat. Repeat.

Notice there's nothing in there about blogging or pinning or tweeting. And nary a facebook post came out of those 14 days.  It was amazing. I felt more me than I've felt in a long time and spent many hours thinking about how and why.

We drove back into the city on our first wedding anniversary, and I spent the entire next week (yes, week) trying to get over my post-vacation malaise while simultaneously trying to figure out how to incorporate my vacation spirit into my real life. My friend Megan was right, however. It doesn't really work.

Then, of course, after all that, after nearly three weeks of vacations and bottles of wine and mid-week holidays and work avoidance it really did get busy. And yet -- when I look at my calendar I actually have no idea what I did. I just felt busy. Not just busy, stressed. Disconnected. 

But why? I felt busy, and just as Kreider guessed, that busyness was a mask for anxiety. I'm sure it's because there's so much happening that can't be written about and posted next to a neat stack of chocolate brownies. These are serious things. Sean's mom went into the hospital, came out, and today went back in. Last week, during a family meeting, she asked me to blog about her death. It seems like that sentence should be attached to some sort of funny quip but it isn't. Not at all.

Normally, when I take some time away, I jump back in with lots of explanations and most of them involve the world 'travel' and 'busy' (and we all know that travel is busy, much of the time). But thanks to recent thoughts, that busy label seems much less authentic. Because, as I've just mentioned, it's so much more than that.

Summer Reading

I've been plowing through books lately, and consuming them with the same frantic, never-come-up-for-air feeling that I remember from childhood. Back then, I used to check out a dozen books from the library and then descend into the basement for a cool, dark escape. I'd spend days down there, only coming up to eat, run through the sprinklers, or to return to the library for more books.

These days my reading time is more limited. I'm lucky if I get in thirty minutes before sleep (I'm talking book reading, people. I read a lot of blogs and articles during the day. My favorite form of procrastination!)

But one of the best parts of vacation is that there is always time for reading. While in Point Reyes I developed a delicious habit: A mid to late afternoon long hike, followed by a shower and then a long (two hours, plus) cocktail hour devoted to book reading and wine sipping. Finally, when my glass was empty, my stomach gnawing, and a chapter finished I'd go in search of dinner. Just like I did when I was a kid.

Over the past couple of weeks I've devoured Rules of Civility, Bringing Up Bebe, Turn of Mind, and Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place.

On the 4th of July I finished reading The Help (I can't wait to finally watch the movie!) And now, two days later, I'm trolling around for something new. This is on my nightstand, but last night I fell asleep while reading The New Yorker article about Ben Stiller. I also want to re-read Coming To My Senses, which I first read earlier this year in proof and adored.

What's on your summer reading list?

Vacation Meals

Just a taste of what we've been eating while living in a cabin in Pt. Reyes for two weeks.