August and September:
from the rooter to the tooter
I had a couple of weeks where I was really on a roll with dinner, and I remembered to pull out the Bronica to document these rare events. But all the dust accumulating in the apartment thwarted my efforts to scan the negatives myself, so the developed rolls just sat. And sat. And sat. Until! Last week, on a very good tip from Brian, I found a guy who could fix my problem. (In this town, there is always a guy who can fix your problem.) (Thanks, Brian!)
The summer just after we graduated college (11 years ago!), J, A, and I lived together in a dorm room. I was staging at a fancy French restaurant, working garde manger, and scooping ice cream and banging out espresso drinks and preparing to move to NYC for my Saveur internship. At home we were eating Kozy Shack rice pudding by the truckload. I had just discovered gazpacho and couldn’t stop making it. This might be the first time I’ve made it since, and I’m not sure why it’s taken so long because I still love the stuff.
When Carl first wrote about muesli around these parts almost exactly two years ago, I frankly wasn’t particularly eager to make some myself.
Continue reading ‘The Swiss know what they’re doing’
Every time I’m in San Francisco, I make a point of stopping by the Ferry Building farmers’ market, and I usually end up bringing something back. But this was the first time that, months after a visit, I actually requested that Joyce pick something up for me and mail it. (Thanks, Joyce!)
Continue reading ‘Date night (and day and afternoon and morning and any time)’