Local Grazing

It's full-fledged summer here in the Berkshires, and I'm doing the best to live each day as its own, resisting the urge to mindlessly move towards the weekend. Living on a lake has been such a privilege. I can savor the water, be it watching the sun move across the sky, kayaking and canoeing, practicing yoga, lounging, or even swimming. The depth off the dock is just about chest height for me, with clear water that's algae-free due to its own variety of herbicides, but otherwise the perfect temperature.

This year I wasn't as ambitious with my garden plantings, but I decided to fill the patio garden box with lettuces. The garden bed attached to my neighbor's home has dinosaur kale, bok choi, zucchini, a few tomatoes in serious need of cages to keep them upright, and hopefully beautiful rows of sunflowers. In the kitchen window there are basil and parsley plants growing in pots.The greens are absolutely thriving in this full sun and semi-frequent rains. I've actually reached a critical mass with lettuce, and find myself passing it along to friends and neighbors before it grows to tall and bitter. It is certainly the most gratifying vegetable I've grown yet, and the best part is its low maintenance and resilience. Less than 4 weeks after the first planting in a bed of manure-based fertilized compost (redundant, I know), the little leaves are bursting spirals of greens, yellows, purples, and reds, that can be plucked from the outside-in, or cut at the base for a full head. I relish in making a salad any time of day that was grown a few feet from my door.

As you may remember, I strive to keep my food purchases and consumption as local as possible--a locavore, if you will. In a polarized global economy where most supermarket produce has traveled thousands of miles for several weeks out of its indigenous season after being drowned in pesticides on an industrial farm that's indentured to the patents of its corporate parent seeds and utilizing underpaid migrant labor in hazardous conditions, well... you should be able to see why where your food comes from matters. Don't even get me started on meat. My heart squeezes in a terrible way when I think of the more than 450,000 concentrated animal feeding operations (CAFOs) where cattle and poultry are trapped to a life of confinement, stuffed with corn, then slaughtered à la Upton Sinclar's The Jungle to become our $3 burger, also while exhausting water resources and producing methane gases. No, I'm not a vegetarian, nor a a devout PETA supporter; I simply believe in giving all creatures a life of dignity.

It's easy to assume that local, "natural" stores and markets are too much for your wallet. So, I challenge you to take a 1-2 week inventory of what you actually completely eat in your household. I'd make a bet that most of you waste at least 40% of what you've purchased, because it degrades too soon (also a symptom of industrial, far-traveled produce), the expiration dates are mislabeled, or you just don't feel like being reinventive using leftovers for new meals. I'm not blaming you; it happens. Maybe you went out for dinner more often than originally planned, or realized that no matter how hard you try, Brussels sprouts are gross in any form (not true for me~!). Those food stuffs in the garbage, though, add up as lost dollars and needless space in our garbage dumps, when it potentially could have been purchased by another family, rescued by gleaners, or donated to a community kitchen. I was really proud to be part of these efforts with the Campus Kitchens Project at St. Lawrence University.

While the prices at small-owned stores may be more expensive, you should inquire a bit further. Usually the products sold at organic shops and co-ops are from companies with equitable, sustainable sourcing and production processes. Think: fair wages for farmers in developing nations, no genetically-modified (GMO) plants, recycled packaging, a community-owned business model, and so on. At the store itself, these employees tend to be have a better living wage and working environment. This sounds like a pain the ass to do all this investigation, because unfortunately, marketers understand how to label, package, and brand deceitfully. We're all at risk here, but have the ability to be conscientious consumers and hold the food industry accountable. In our capitalistic society, dollars matter. The extra effort and overhead is an investment into your local economy. You'll buy a bit less, waste less, and enjoy it more.

Farmers markets proliferate New England this time of year in the open air, where children and pets can wander to produce, dairy, meat, coffee, jewelry, craft stands, all things imaginable, away from harsh supermarket lights and heavy crowds. Some cities have bustling markets, yet the shoppers tend to be relaxed and friendlier. It's great if you know in advance which farmer's will be there and zip in and out with your purchases, but it's also wonderful to stroll through for the holistic, sensory experience. Many towns are even holding winter farmer's markets so you can support your local producers year round.

I must give a shout out to the Downtown Pittsfield Farmers Market, whose wildly successful Double Value program has truly made the market economically equitable (say that five times fast). The Double Value Program is a money-matching program available to mothers, senior citizens and low-income residents who are using their SNAP, WIC, and Senior Farmers Market Nutrition Program benefits. According to their website, the program’s reach far surpassed the market’s projections and in just thirteen weeks during the summer 2015 launch, putting over $20,000 worth of fresh food on the tables of families in need and leveraged federal SNAP dollars to support local farms and the Berkshire economy. As a personal antidote, I took advantage of this program when I was still an AmeriCorps VISTA receiving SNAP benefits. My food budget was limited to those dollars each month, yet this market afforded me twice as much incredible, local food. I'm so thankful for the visionary directors of the market, and the businesses that fund this venture.

At the farmers market, you can taste the difference. Your luscious, heirloom, tomatoes will remind you why it's worth the 11 month wait between seasons. Strike up a conversation with producers. Don't be afraid to ask questions; they want to share their bounty and labor of love. They will teach you so much more about nutrition and this world than a sticker ever will. The relationships that blossom will make you feel more connected and in touch with your community, while eating with a conscious. If you're not sure where to go, the USDA has a market locator that even filters the types of products available and accepted payments.

I can't wait for Saturday morning, the next downtown farmers market! And ifyou're in the area, please stop by so I can give you some greens.

Digesting NYC, part II: Falafel

There is no shortage of falafel in New York City, it's simply a matter of finding the good ones.  This is a challenge that could take years, and if I ever take up residency, it is one I shall gladly accept!  Now, the origins falafel-- a fried fritter of mashed chick peas or fava beans with handfuls of parsley, onion, garlic, cumin, cayenne, lemon, tucked into a pita with tahini or cucumber-dill yogurt sauce, tomatoes, and julienned cucumbers-- are contested: it is the national food of Irsael, but claimed by Palestine; perhaps rooted in Egypt, but undoubtedly Arab.  Having never traveled to the Middle East, I haven't tried a native version (yet), but I have indulged on some of the best falafel in Paris, and have some sense of how the ideal pita should taste.  In my 2 days, I had falafel from two establishments: Maoz Vegetarian and Oasis.

When I arrived at Equity Point hostel in Times Square my first night, I dumped all my bags, changed clothes, then walked one block to Maoz Vegetarian (see, I knew there was a reason I picked this hostel!).  It's a narrow shop with a single counter where you order, stand back, and wait.  There's a slim counter to eat on as well, but this is definitely a grab-and-go establishment.  You can chose between white or wheat pitas, a pita salad (on a bed of spinach), and the full pita with five fritters or a half pita with three pitas.  I went for the full sized on whole wheat, which came to $6.50.  It's also possible to upgrade to a meal with a soft drink and fries.  The best part is the dozen or so toppings on their free-for-all salad bar: marinated chickpeas, roasted cauliflower, pickled cabbage, peppers, tahini, hot sauce, and more.  It was one packed pita, not greasy at all, and fun to eat with all the variety of toppings.  Post-consumption, I investigated a bit more online and as a chain throughout the city, Maoz is actually very reliable and consistent.  That merits a huge thumbs up from me!

Not even 24 hours later, a simple transfer on the subway from Union Square/14th to the (L) line into Brooklyn, and stepping off the first stop at Bedford Avenue, I feasted on falafel yet again at Oasis.  I noticed the restaurant when I exited the subway, but it wasn't until meeting my best friend's boyfriend, Deonza (a Bronx native), did he lead me here.  Ignore the shabby facade; this Middle Eastern deli is cheap, fast, tasty, and super convenient.  The falafel pitas are $3 with fritters much larger than Maoz, as well as hot schwarma kebabs, fries, and other bites to statsify those late-night treks home.  It does not have the same array of offerings as Maoz to fill the pita, but the fritters are so well balanced with the cucumber, it doesn't matter.  You can also order it spicy, which is a nice slather of chili sauce-- just don't forget to ask for a container of yogurt sauce.  I'm a fan!

Deonza, caught in the act of degustation.

So, if you're in Williamsburg or on your way back to Manhattan from Brooklyn, I highly suggest stopping at Oasis because it is outrageously cheap.  You can order three falafels for the price of one drink from the bars in the area!!  However, if you find yourself craving falafel in Midtown or somewhere else unfamiliar in NYC, keep your eyes out for Maoz Vegetarian and know that your chickpea pita is in good hands.  I really enjoy falafel from scratch, but there's nothing like stuffing your face with this fried pocket of worldly delights after the bar at 2 AM.  I can't wait to return to the city and investigate more of the eateries!











Listening: "The Hobo Girl" by the Fruit Bats

Digesting NYC, part I: Chinese & Thai

New York City is the proverbial global smorgasbord of eating, and an absolute thrill for food geeks like myself.  You can find everything from mobile food carts and trucks, to Michelin-starred restaurants that are booked months in advance.  But let's be real, I came to New York to find a job and I still needed to act on a student budget.  Though I can't stand hot dogs, I am not above hounding $3 falafel from dingy shops outside subways.  To break up the review of where I ate during my 2-3ish days, this concerns the Chinese and Thai restaurants.

I knew I needed to take full advantage of my sole free day in the City.  I had a loose itinerary in mind, yet more than anything, I was desperate for Chinese food!  Once my stomach has decided what it craves and a restaurant is mapped out, there is nothing that can stop me.  I consulted my favorite food blog, Serious Eats, and poked through their NYC guide by neighborhood and discovered the prime restaurants for authentic cuisine in Chinatown.  Granted, anything would have tasted fantastic to me because it’s been months since I was in China, but I wanted to devour some of the best. 

Chinatown is marked by the immediate presence of Mandarin characters on all storefronts and signs, mainly in simplified forms.  The farther you explore the streets, the more locals you encounter that embody so much of the 'Mainland' culture: lingering, gossiping, card-playing, cooking, spitting, haggling, and living street-side.

 The walk was a straight hustle down from Times Square down Broadway, traversing across fourth, and eventually onto the Bowery.  Unsurprisingly, I circled the correct block and passed the hole-in-wall three times before I saw the sign for A-Wah.  Word to the wise: never pass up a Chinese restaurant because of outward appearances, because you may be rejecting one of the most well-valued meals you'll find.

Upon entering, there are glazed pigs and poultry hanging in the window, carved for flavoring and the starring protein of many dishes, three chefs zipping between sizzling woks, bamboo steamers, smoking grills, and boiling pots.  After squeezing by customers placing their orders to go, you can sit at one of the tables in the back.  The waiter (or perhaps laoban boss, I couldn't be sure) brings your chopsticks, a fresh cup of oolong tea, and an overwhelming menu with hundreds of dishes in Chinese and English.  I huddled around my tea cup to warm my hands and glanced over the offerings, but I knew what I had come for: bozaifan 波仔饭 or shaguofan 砂锅饭, known in English as clay pot rice.

When I was in Beijing this summer, during my lunch break at the internship office, my lady co-workers and I would stop eat this clay pot rice at least twice a week for $3 at a Korean restaurant.  Although there are slightly different variations for offerings, the concept is the same: rice is filled in a clay pot, the meat and/or vegetables are set on top, and the bowl is fired on the grill until the crisps and sizzles as you stir everything together.  It's textural madness, especially between the fine grains and soft toppings-- I always burned my tongue because I was so eager to eat!  At A-Wah, the clay pot rice bowls (listed as casseroles) are $7-$12 and I ordered the vegetarian Buddha's Delight.  It arrived too hot to touch, filled with baby corn, snow peas, mushrooms, water chestnuts, and ribbon tofu; basically common vegetables of the Chinese variety, yet I never learned their specific names.  I doused a lot of chili powder (我很喜欢啦味道的菜!), soy sauce, stirred, and went after it.   From other reviews I have since read, it seems that their pork bowls are also delicious, and I would be curious to taste the seafood.

In another decision of nostalgia, I ordered wonton and noodle soup 馄饨面, harking back to my host mom in Shanghai who woo'ed me with her incredible homemade Shanghainese wontons (the noodle is distinctly different from Fuzhou or other wontons... more noodle and larger).  The soup came with six boiled wontons filled with pork and a piece of shrimp, along with ramen noodles and white cabbage.  This was nothing spectacular; the fillings were not bursting with taste and needed lots of chili and vinegar.  Nonetheless, at $4.50 a bowl, I was pleased and finally warmed up.  Between that and the clay pot rice, I looked like a happy Buddha who has just rediscovered her dumplings (oh wait--!).  And yeesh, I couldn't even finish it all!  I had the rest of the rice packed to-go, and devoured it the next day post-interview.  I heard that if you order the clay pot rice to-go initially, they actually send you along with the clay dish!

I miss Chinese food SO MUCH, and this was a divine fix.  They're good at what they do, and they know it!  I had quite a convivial conversation with the waiter/laoban, even in broken Mandarin.

The crispiest rice is stuck to the side of the bowl, so scrape and enjoy!

Wonton soup is the Chinese counterpart to chicken noodle soup: comfort in a bowl.

Basically, do yourself a favor and visit the heart of Chinatown for A-Wah! It's across from the bubble tea shop.

For my final night in New York, I met up with my friend Caroline who I met while studying in Shanghai last spring.  She is a beautiful lady inside and out, a women's rights activist, a gifted writer, and was gracious enough to take a train from Jersey to meet me for dinner!  Due to a suggestion from one of her friends, we ate at Pure Thai Cookhouse in Hell's Kitchen, which is the next neighborhood northwest of Times Square.

It took me a few minutes to find PTC because it's wedged between many other eclectic restaurants.  It's only a few meters wide with seating for maximum twenty patrons, yet the ambiance is unbeatable.  The walls are full of festive flowers, instruments, vintage photos of Thai celebrities, while Thai pop music blares in the background.  It's run by a pleasant, efficient staff all wearing floral aprons, including two female chefs in the front soup bar.  Despite the constant line, they were polite enough to allow my friend and I enjoy our drinks during the dinner rush. And most importantly, the food is delicious. It tastes authentically like what I ate in Thailand while vacationing there last year, with it's subtle spices, Thai basil, sweet curries, and punching chili-- you can even order Chang or Singha beer!

For my meal, I ordered a Coney Island pilsner and the [insert Thai name that I don't recall here] seafood soup with thin rice noodles-- sometime I would like to try their homemade egg noodles.  I wish the broth was a bit spicier (rated 2 out of 3) and saltier, but the fillings were substantial.  I also followed up with a Chang beer.  Everything on the menu costs twice as much as it should, but then again, this is New York.  I felt fortunate to enjoy food at what turned out to be a very popular restaurant in the area!  Between two beers for each of us and an entree, the meal was $52 (tip included).  I highly recommend going their with a friend and enjoying their food because it's worth the whole ambiance.

Apologies for the terrible exposure; iPhone flash.

Dinner with sweet Caroline!  She ordered the spicy, dry curried beef and vegetables, which was a generous serving along with jasmine rice.  You could also order brown jasmine or sticky rice.

If you're looking for a certain taste or food-induced memory in New York, you will surely find it.

Listening: "Lost" by Frank Ocean

Shipping Off to the East Coast

I'm in the humid, warm respite of Florida!  Until next Thursday, that is, then back to Boston and a long drive to school with my roommate for the final semester.  This past week was hectic but in the best way possible.  I don’t recommend planning Northeastern flights during the darkest winter months because you’ll inevitably fly west just to go east and some blizzard or icy storm will leave you stranded-- which was terrible.  I became another statistic along with all the other reasonably irritated and desperate travelers. I knew I should have taken a train, because the time I spent from Rochester, Detroit, then Boston would have been the same amount of time on the railway!  Lesson learned, I suppose.

After delays, too many Delta flight respondents that had no clue what was happening, and finally squeezing onto a flight to Boston, I arrived 15 hours later, hopped on a bus to Newburyport on the Massachusetts North Shore.  Kat, my partner in crime, picked me up as my host for the weekend.  We’ve been close friends for about a year now—from dancing through the clubs of Shanghai, to swimming in the Gulf of Thailand, to combatting patriarchy and researching women’s issues.  She’s studying abroad in Kenya this coming semester, and leaving in less than a week, so I enjoyed being acquainted with her hometown while reminiscing of our crazy adventures.  

Chasing light in the dining nook of Kat's kitchen.

The partially-frozen Merrimack River in Amesbury.

Everything in New England is so historic and quaint, almost delicately so, yet has proved its resilience against centuries of harsh northeastern weather.  Kat and I spent a lot of time catching up over tea and hot cocoa, watching The Carrie Diaries on Hulu (come on, Anna Sophia Rob, you can do better than that), and visiting sights around Amesbury.  Newburyport is a five minute drive away, known for its clipper ships and 18th century admiral homes.  The downtown village was revitalized a few decades ago and now thrives with local restaurants, artisans, and small businesses.  We even had dinner and drinks in, what we didn't realize at first, the local dive bar (ha, oops).  At least the clam chowder was delicious!  We had brunch mimosas and Bloody Marys with Kat's mom, then drove to the preserved Plum Island community.  The coastline is gorgeous but unfortunately, powerful storms and sand erosion have washed away historical homes and pose a risk to many others.

On the coast of Plum Island with Kat and her wonderful mom, Meg.

A beautiful snowy owl perched on this abandoned house drew crowds of people along the road!

Kat’s house also served as a launching point into Boston for a career fair.  I'm not sure how I feel about the suburbs (all that sprawl makes it a bit too middle-of-the-road for me), but the perks of living near a major metropolis means an efficient public transportation network... sort of.  The trains into Boston were running late, subsequently overfilled, and led to more stress and crowds in the subway (called the T)!  Nonetheless, I made it to the conference center near Copley Square, and spent the morning and early afternoon trying to market myself in the most appealing way possible.  Along with several dozens of other 19-22 year old students in ill-adjusted suits.  It's a hilarious and bizarre sight because we're all cracked out on nerves and caffeine, handing out resumes from our leather portfolios like free candy, though I at least am not looking for a job that demands head-to-toe suits everyday! 

Copley Square with its namesake man eternalized in bronze, along with Trinity Church and the John Hancock Tower in the background.

Super-artsy iPhone shot of the JH Tower. Just emphasize it's veritable blade-like appearance against the rest of the skyline.

By the time my interviews wrapped up, it was 2:30 PM and I was famished.  Across the street, I found Blue Glass Cafe in the bottom of the John Hancock Tower and indulged.  It's divided between the cafe with drinks and pastries on one side, then a buffet-like restaurant on the other.  It's very similar to the self-service food bars in Wegmans and grocery stores: conventional bagged snacks and bottled drinks, plus a deli bar, daily sushi, soup, hot dishes, and the 'health bar.'  This section is a glorified salad bar with organic toppings, homemade dressings, and sides such as sesame-marinated tofu, wheatberry salad, spiced butternut squash, and fresh goat cheese.  You can fill a take-out box or porcelain plate and it's priced according to weight at $8-9 per pound.  I was stoked on eating a loaded salad with quinoa after only having a Cliff bar and a piece of coffee cake.  My only complaint was the layout of the restaurant, with the majority of tables and sitting room on a second floor, but that's probably the result of moving into the John Hancock Tower after something else.  Otherwise, I completely recommend Blue Glass Cafe for a convenient and health-conscious meal!

I'll continue on about my East Coast sprint in my next post.  Hope you're all staying warm!
Listening: The Tallest Man on Earth's album, "Shallow Grave" (2008)

Wahoo! I'm published.

Winter views and blues from my townhouse at school.  It's all blanketed in snow now.

A midst the terror and hilarity that concern the last three weeks of school, I managed to contribute something the world beyond the North Country bubble: a travel essay that was published online!  After discovering my blog, a start-up bilingual media site based out of Madrid, Spain, called RoosterGNN, asked if I would like to write for their student travel section called GapBrave.  After taking a few creative English writing classes, spilling my thoughts here, and jaunting between continents, this was an awesome opportunity, and of course I related it to food.  My food-travel-personal essay titled "A Taste of Northern France" can be found here.  There are definitely some flaws and I need to work on eliminating the passive tense whenever possible, but I hope I granted a fresh perspective on a highly visited monument in France.  I look forward to contributing more to GapBrave in the future, and wdging my way into the world of online journalism.

This week was a mess, including 5-hour then 11-hour library sits on Monday and Tuesday, but I'm proud to announce that I crushed my several-thousand word essays and put finals week 2013 to rest.  Heading home in the morning and can't wait to blog more about December very soon.

Listening: The Talking Heads, always, all the time. Especially "This Must Be The Place"

Finger Lakes Rendez-vous

These last three weeks at home have been a rushed blur of family, friends, food, work, cleaning, recovering, and gearing up.  Long gone are the days when I could call several friends for pool parties and bonfires late into the night, but I still managed many dates with my people-- usually under the premise of food.  It's almost better this way because I can have a real in-depth conversation with friends, each who manages to elicit different aspects of my China experience to share.

 >> Coffee in town with Caitlan and Kristen on the regular.

>> And some wine and dine at the golf course where Caitlan's boyfriend works (love the perks of free dessert~!).

 >> Into the suburbs of Rochester at Jenny's house, one of my good friends from school.  She's a grilling master, and that night we prepared dinner for the family with food from her dad's garden.

>> Kayaking the serene Canadice Lake with my dad, only 15 minutes over the west hills.

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>> Breakfast date with Brad, who's always working at his summer camp, and Trevor, who I haven't spent time with in ages!  Twenty minutes south of Honeoye is Naples, which sits in the valleys at the end of Canandaigua Lake and is a gateway into Finger Lakes wine country.  The downtown village is a pleasant two-mile street of small grocers, artisans, and eateries.  The Grainery is a particular favorite for locals because it's open by 6:30 or 7 AM every day and serves organic and locally-sourced breakfast fare until early afternoon.  The bagels are homemade and available for purchase as breakfast sandwiches or as they are to bring home.  They also serve fajitas, paninis, homefries, sweet baked goods, and a variety of coffee drinks.  On a warm morning I love sitting street-side, but the interior is also enjoyable with polished wood booths reminiscent of Adirondack lodges and charming, outdoorsy decorations.

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>> My mom is part Simply Crepes' brirthday club, so we have made it annual rite to eat there in Canandaigua every August.  The other location in the Rochester Area is in Pittsford, but this one is much closer to us and has a more relaxed atmosphere.  Nonetheless, when you walk in, the kitchen is in full view as white-uniformed chefs deftly spread batter across the traditional, edge-less iron skillets with wooden rakes.  The interior is wooden with pastel accents on the walls, making it feel like a welcoming French cottage.  I've only dined here for lunch and dinner, but on Sundays they feature a brunch buffet with eggs, fruit, sausage, and breakfast crepes.

After devouring so many crepes on the streets of France (usually before our 2-hour marathon that was History of Art at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Rouen), I've taken initiative and attempt to create them at home.  Yet sometimes, you just want someone else with more resources and creativity to dazzle you with a thin, malleable pancake, and that's where Québecois owner, Pierre Heroux, has filled the need.  In fact, when I was in middle school, he and his mother came to my French class for a demonstration!  In Québec, their specialty is maple syrup crepes, whereas in France they tend to favor Nutella.  It's all heaven to me.

At the Canandaigua location of Simply Crepes, during rushes you have the sense that they are understaffed but working very hard to deliver an exceptional experience for every table.  I'm usually not phased because there are so many varieties of crepes -- appetizers such as fried crepe chips with powdered sugar; breakfast crepes with eggs and sausage; minimalist crepes with asparagus, ham, and hollandaise; vegetarian crepes with arugula,tomatoes, and goast cheese; Philly steak crepes; Thai-inspired crepes; Buffalo chicken crepes; Nutella crepes; ones filled with fruit and ice cream, and more.  I pretty much pick something different each visit, and I was very pleased that they added buckwheat crepes as an option., It's acutally closer to the authentic French galette from Brittany for savory fillings.  Otherwise I believe they use the same batter for entree and dessert crepes, which is a white flour and egg-based, with a soft texture and mild flavor.  Unfortunately, they were out of buckwheat when we arrived so I haven't tasted their take on the heartier version.

It does seem far-fetched that you could be full from a flimsy French pancake, but order correctly and you will be groaning with fullness after an entree and dessert -- even if you order the smaller portion to share!  If you're in Rochester and are inerested in eating something different but not entirely off the map, Simply Crepes is worth the visit.  Just don't buy one of their over-priced coffees and smoothies.  In the last few years, they've also opened a location in Raleigh, North Carolina!  If you have some Franco-gastronomic urges in the South, I suggest you stop by.

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>> Lunch date at Aladdin's Natural Eatery with Jen, another great friend from high school who actually now attends college about 15 minutes up the road!  Despite the closeness, I preferred having our heart to heart because if she ever visits at school, there's too many distractions for long conversations.  This was my first meal at this Mediterranean restaurant, which also warrants a review :)

 >> A visit to my miniature horse, Tina.  My family had a miniature horse farm for years, but as we downsized, Tina was one of our last.  Once I left for college, we realized it would be best to give her to a friend that would provide the just amount of attention and care.  It pains me a bit, because as pets, they have no choice in their ownership and where they head next; but I know we made the right decision.  Tina now lives next the corn fields of old friends, and their granddaughters just love her.

>> A stroll along Canandaigua Lake with Kristen and Tucker, finishing with gelato from one of my favorites, the Muar House Cafe.  Tucker is an untethered spirit and usually on the move, which I admire; but he always manages to find time for old friends.

Canandaigua Lake, above -- Keuka Lake, below, which is the next Finger Lake to the southeast.

>> And lastly, a visit with Phil to Eric's cottage on Keuka Lake.  It's arguably the best of the Finger Lakes as a fresh water paradise; boat traffic never too heavy, unpretentious residences, deep, clear water, and bordered by charming towns.  I've lived with these two guys in the Habtiat for Humanity theme house, so we had a lot to laugh about, reminisce, and plan for this fall.

 

The cottage has been in Eric's family for a while, and it's filled with momentos and vintage knick knacks and lake decorations.  On the fishing boat, for example, they use an old record player that's been converted into a trolling reel with steel line-- but no snags for us!  We had a bonfire with friends around the lake, dined on grilled corn and his mom's peach crisp, went fishing at dusk and early morning, took turns sailing the white caps (and almost capsized!), tried water-skiing for the first time (I wasn't able to stand up, my balance is pretty poor), and tossed a lot of frisbees with his beautiful dog, Max.  

What a glorious end to a brief summer in New York.  

My parents are taking me to St. Lawrence for the last time today, which is bizarre and depressing.  Though after being away since January, I am reeling with excitement!  Of course I will miss home and I'm always thinking of China, but this is the next step in my journey.  I'll finally be on campus the entire year for the first time since freshman year, and I'm predicting that it will be the best one yet.

Listening: "Silly Fathers" by Rubblebucket

Cooking Chronicles: Brown-Butter Fruit Cake

Summertime brings gorgeous fruit.  

I have difficulty justifying baking or cooking with fruit because now is the best time to eat it, raw and whole.  However, last summer I found this recipe on the blog Eat, Live, Run for a brown butter plum upside down cake-- and it has since changed my perception of baked fruit desserts.  The brown butter makes all the difference here because it adds a nutty, rich taste to the more sour fruit.

Supplies

Two mixing bowls / non-stick saute pan / cake mixer or electric beater / spatula / 9" round cake pan / oven @350 deg. F / a fancy apron (optional)

2 pounds of firm plums, or peaches!  This would be 5-7, depending on how you slice and how many layers of fruit you want.  As you can see, I used both and the effect was gorgeous and added varying tastes to the cake.  

1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour

2 tsp baking powder, 1/4 tsp salt, 1/2 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp vanilla

2 eggs, at room temperature

1/2 cup of milk

3/4 cup of granulated white sugar

1 stick of unsalted butter, at room temperature

    *(room temperature ingredients make for better cakes!)

1/2 stick (4 tbsp) of unsalted butter, at room temperature

3/4 cup of packed brown sugar

Directions

1. Cut peaches and plums into 1/4" slices.

2. Melt a 1/2 stick (4 tbsp) of butter into saute pan on low heat (very important, otherwise the butter will burn), stirring occasionally.  First it will separate and clarify, then foam, then gradually turn brown -- the darker the brown, the nuttier and more rich the taste.  This should take 5-10 minutes.

3.  Once the butter is browned, stir in the 3/4 cup of brown sugar and cook for another 3 minutes.

4. Pour into a round cake pan, then arrange the fruit slices in a layered, circular pattern.

5. In one bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon.

6. In another bowl, cream the remaining stick of butter and 3/4 cup of white sugar.

7.  Add eggs one by one, then vanilla.

8.   Fold  in dry ingredients, alternating with the milk, beating until fluffy.

9. Spread batter onto the fruit, then baking for 40-45 minutes until the cake is golden brown.

10.  Let the cake cool for a few minutes.  Run a knife around the edge of the cake, and if you want, flip it onto a serving platter and enjoy!  It's incredible with vanilla ice cream and a semi-dry white wine (heh).

There is nothing like homemade cake with seasonal fruit.  I've followed this recipe exactly, but I think next time I'm going to try to substitute oils and apple sauce, reduce and sugar a bit and hopefully make a cake that's less heart-stopping yet equally delicious.  If anyone happens to try themselves, please let me know how it goes.  Man, have I missed baking!

Listening: "Jump in the Line" by Henry Belafonte