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Herbed peach salsa
Posted by Chie In Japan, a part of summer was people exchanging oseibo, gifts to celebrate the season and show thanks to the people in your community. We would receive individually wrapped, plump,...
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Crimini duxelle
It’s funny how, in a season when abundance is the mot du jour, we also live with a forced spareness. My husband is slammed at work and has to accept that he won’t be caught up by the end of the week in...
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Rutabaga and hijiki salad
We only got around to pruning half our crabapple tree before the snowstorm hit. But the skies have been clear all week, setting the un-pruned suckers into relief against the now-blue, now-white sky. No...
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Salad of the sea
Before my kids were in school I remember parents of older kids telling me how much they like vacation days. The kids sleep in. Everyone eats breakfast in their pajamas. Then they might go on a family...
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Black rice salad with shelling peas
Last night as I was cleaning up after dinner I found a piece of basil on the keyboard, stuck between the Z and the X key. It was tricky to fish it out with a fingernail without holding down one of the...
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Chimichurri over portobello and pearl couscous
Summer has decided we need less fruit landing on the pavement in an end-of-season downpour and more blue-stained cuticles and lips. My son and I acquiesced and set out for some blackberry bushes that...
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Blanched collards with cilantro and Jaspée de Vendée squash
Last night I was sitting on a concrete floor, getting a kiss from a big sweetie of a dog. My husband called the pup over while I sat in the chair, listening to a shelter volunteer read bits of the...
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On pause
This week my friend Pat sent me a birthday gift (I love it when my birthday goes on and on like that). The box was stout and heavy and wrapped in black and red paper. Inside I found a real mortar and...
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Hope = Ripe + morels
I love a good recipe, especially one I’ve committed to memory. I’m busy, like most people, and a lazy cook at the end of the day. Skipping the part where I hunt through a tiny-fonted index and instead...
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Pesto
The other day my friend Larry told me that when he was a boy, he used to take the bus down to Fisherman’s Wharf with his brother to go fishing. The two boys, they were no more than 10 or 12 years old,...
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