Someday, I hope to have a home (that I actually own, though right now it seems more likely that I’ll win the lottery — especially sad, given that I don’t even play the lottery) that is filled only with things made by my friends or by me. This weekend, on his trip down from Montreal, David made good on his end of our barter and put me a little closer to that goal. I have about five months to get him outfitted for next winter, since I couldn’t seem to get my knit on this past one.

But back to my pasta bowls: Beauties, aren’t they?

And best of all, because David knows me and knows food and knows how I like to roll, he cleverly placed a little divot at the bottom of each bowl to catch some extra sauce.

We were in the process of scarfing down the entire basket of strawberries when I remembered that I owed winnie a photo of farm box strawberries.

Sadly, the strawberries this week are only about 2/3 as delicious as they were last week. That didn’t stop us though, and only five strawberries survived the first onslaught, only to be murderously dismembered and put in the icebox.

The survivors did not last long, as they were sacrificed along with a bowl of Shredded Spoonfuls the next morning.

The best banh mi I have ever had, hands down. Ba Xuyen in Sunset Park. This is the No. 1: a perfectly balanced combination of crusty, yeasty rice-flour baguette, a generous slice each of creamy, velvety-rich pork pâté, delicately gelatinous headcheese, salty-sweet smoked ham, and the zingy acidity of pickled julienned carrot and daikon. Cilantro and mayo bind all of it together into one truly transcendental mouthful. I could eat one every day. Actually, I could probably handle only half of one every day; you get a lot of banh mi for your $3.50.

I can’t believe it took me six years to get my hands on this. I have been remiss. But believe you me, I am going to make up for lost time. And lost sandwiches.

Also: trust the nice lady when she tells you that the avocado shake is really good. It is.

Probably best not to go here if you’re feeling the least bit hungry.

This is definitely becoming a regular Sunday brunch.

(Thanks, Matt, for the perfect soundtrack. Too bad you’re working, or I’d invite you over too.)

Chambers Street, enroute to the Tribeca Greenmarket, 7:45 a.m. this morning.

When I got home on Wednesday, our usual farm box pickup day, A. complained about how light it was, implying that we hadn’t gotten very much this week. When we opened it up, we realized that the majority of the farm box value was represented by a basket of succulent red jewels. Technically strawberry season began last week, but I was out of the country and thus opted out of last week’s box.

Also, my CSA has a blog now.

Did you know that Chris Ware looks just like a character out of his books? Not only that, but he acts like one too. I saw him with Art Spiegelman at a talk at the JCCSF, which has a fabulous lecture series. Definitely see Art Spiegelman sometime — he is hilarious.

Just queued up at on the SFPL request list: Ice Haven by Daniel Clowes (both Ware and Spiegelman are huge fans of him), Black Hole by Charles Burns, and Blankets by Craig Thompson. Also Battlestar Galactica Season 2 Disc 2. Have I told you how much I love the library?

You might end up in a video about mangosteens (4:17 if you can’t sit through the whole thing). I think this was the day Mike convinced me to buy a pork shank.

Dear Taco Truck,

Better and more knowledgeable writers have penned their own love letters to you, the petition to save LA’s taco trucks is more than encouraging (come on, you too!), and I’m only just really getting to know you. But I needed to write to say this:

You had me at cabeza.

For someone whose childhood imprinting of Mexican was the Taco Bell Nachos Supreme, this is revelatory. So juicy. So flavorful. So… multiple. So I’ll be back. You, taco truck, are the town troubadour of tastiness. Your ambulatory existence draws crowds wherever you go and inspires legions. You have replaced the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile in my fantasies of meals on wheels.

Same place same time? See you there.

yours,

joyce.

Aida taught us how to make empanadas asturianas today. I have no idea how she pleats those things so perfectly with just her index finger. And no, it’s not easy as it looks.

Inside, she’s got browned ground beef with onions, olives, raisins, and a few other things I can’t recall right now. And yeah, they taste as good as they look.