Monday, July 13, 2026
Gardens We Will Tend To
Monday, December 29, 2025
Lemon Chess Pie
Saturday, November 22, 2025
Ladies' Paint Night at the Snap Dragon Lounge
5:30pm (ish) Friday, November 7, 2025
Wednesday, September 10, 2025
Dining Al Fresco- Deconstructed "Pizza"
"This is my Italian summer!" Ava announced as she devoured another slice of prosciutto. I laughed and we set the table- al fresco- on the deck: cushions on the wooden chairs, floral printed cloth napkins, salt and pepper. Ready to relax after a day of working indoors on a beautiful summer day.
Our favorite meal to eat on evenings like these- a cast iron pan filled with roasted cherry tomatoes: charred and bursting, doused with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Seasoned with a sprig of fresh rosemary nestled into the softened fruit.
Once the tomatoes are removed from the oven, we tuck cold balls of burrata into the tomato "jam" and slit the tops of the fresh, creamy cheese open to reveal the oozing soft interior. We slice chunks of fresh crusty baguette and spread the soft tomatoes and silky cheese over them and use the crusts to sop up the juices on our plates. A perfectly deconstructed "pizza" to share as a leisurely dinner sitting amongst the flowers and potted herbs. What could be better?
Serves 2 for dinner
Sunday, July 27, 2025
Bread and Roses
For inspiration, please watch:
Joan Baez singing "Bread and Roses"
Bread and Roses
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill-lofts gray
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing, " Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses. "
As we come marching, marching, we battle, too, for men —
For they are women's children and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes —
Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses!
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient song of Bread;
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew —
Yes, it is bread we fight for — but we fight for Roses, too.
As we come marching, marching, we bring the Greater Days —
The rising of the women means the rising of the race —
No more the drudge and idler — ten that toil where one reposes —
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses!
Friday, July 4, 2025
Gathering Salad-Recharge to Resist (insert American flag emoji here)
Monday, March 31, 2025
Horrible Bosses, Tiny Salads
I wrote this last year when I was at my lowest. Searching on Linked in, indeed and corporate websites, everywhere for an opportunity- a lifeline really so that I could leave the current 9-5 hell that I was living in week after week. Happily, things have now changed for the better.
There are days, most days when I really want to quit my job. Not that the work itself is bad. It's actually not difficult, my hours are pretty good (aside from working in the summertime) and the office is located just a few miles drive along the beach.
The problem is my boss.
She rages like a toddler when she perceives that someone is not doing something her way. Best of all when her thoughts are irrational, she likes to take her insecurities out on those around her.
Melting down and yelling over a silly misunderstanding is her specialty. She once cornered me in the office kitchen, after closing the door so no one else could hear and verbally attacked me because she thought I was yelling at her and disrespecting her when in fact, there was a lot of office noise and I was simply trying to be heard over the din.
She clearly has an issue with me. A few examples cited by her in my yearly (only given once in 5 years of employment) "review":
"You answer the phone so quickly I can't see the caller id."
"You complete projects too early."
"Your planning ahead is problematic."
"It's on you" "That's going to happen" in response to me expressing concern over dealing with completely avoidable last minute issues that derail then entire office staff after I brought up concern over it weeks prior in an attempt to mitigate the situation ahead of time.
And the cherry on top, when I asked for a raise: "You are the reason I want to quit."
But perhaps the absolute biggest offense: we don't take time for lunch.
We eat at our desks, trudging through the workload. I bring a salad of chopped up bits and pieces nestled into a small container from my home refrigerator so that I can easily shovel it all in with a just fork...no knife needed. This way I can continue to type with one finger on my opposite hand.
Self care in this workplace is not made to be a priority and heaven forbid if you want to take a 5 minute walk or grab a breath of fresh air. But, if you are so inclined, you can do planks on the dirty carpet for 1 minute with the team. This is supposed to be an act of taking care of oneself. I refuse to participate.
I've worked for other horrible bosses before. Most of them were openly hostile and equally aggressive to my fellow coworkers as they were to me. This time its personal. I am the only target. So I lay low, and hide behind my computer screen, typing like a mad woman, to get all of my work done and leave for the day as soon as possibly allowed.
I invented my first tiny chopped salad back in the days when I worked for a tyrant of a woman. It was an insanely busy restaurant that catered to tourists eager to catch the ferry to Martha's Vineyard and locals if they had the patience to wait in line. She screamed at me and many others everyday for an entire summer while I bused tables. There was no time to eat during the 12 hours of working. You might be able to shove some oyster crackers into your mouth and the diet coke was free but that was all. Until I became a prep cook. I was in charge of making all of the garden salads for the busy dinner rush. While slicing cucumbers and chopping lettuce, I cut up the ends of tomatoes and peppers, little leftover pieces of lettuce and threw chopped pepperoncini into a small wooden salad bowl housed in the corner of my bench. It looked like a tiny scrap bucket, which it technically was but was made up of bite size pieces of the good scraps. During the few minutes between prep and the front door being opened for service, I managed to grab a fork and a packet of blue cheese dressing. This was in the 1980's and we were all paid under the table. No breaks, no benefits. My days were fueled by adrenaline and fountain soda with lemon. I cried after every shift in the car on the way home that first summer I worked for her. I was 15 years old. I have not cried over a horrible boss and the way they treated me since. I guess I can thank her for helping me to grow a thick, hard and calloused skin.
That wild woman moved on to other targets and I stayed in that summer job for about 5 years, through my freshman year of college. I was tough, I could hang with the rest of the mangy kitchen crew. She told me I was one of her best employees. Then I worked for a madman caterer who acted in the same manner. On top of it, he was also a sexist chauvinist but equal in his bestowing of put downs and anger. No problem. I put my head down, did my work and was rewarded for it. Whenever he sees me in town, over 30 years later, he always said that he would like to have cloned me. Lord. Aside from his behavior, his worst offense? Non of us were given time or food to eat.
We catered large business events and weddings. If you were lucky enough to be in the kitchen when the Caesar salad was plated for 150 guests as the dish room was about to receive the massive silver salad bowls used to mix the chopped romaine and the parmesan laden salad dressing, you may have been able to pilfer a tiny piece of green left behind before the bowl was rinsed and tossed into the dishwasher. The same went for the passed appetizers, the crudite or the cheese platter that were bused as the guests sat for dinner. But never let him catch you plucking a sad, wilted piece of celery that was left behind. Your reward: he would scream, "NO SEA GULLING!!!!" heard throughout the dining room, followed by a tantrum filled with a barrage of swear words that I am not willing to repeat here. I would rather starve.
In honor of horrible bosses everywhere, I have developed a few variations on my version of the "Tiny Salad". Remember to chop all ingredients into bite size or smaller pieces and layer them into a small, inconspicuous container with the dressing lining the bottom, underneath all of the other ingredients. Heavier and more substantial things such as chopped grilled chicken should be added first, lettuces and more delicate additions such as fresh herbs on the very top. Pack in a cooler bag with an ice pack and a napkin and keep it at your desk. When you are ready/allowed/don't fear retaliation for eating, gently shake the container to mix it all together. Don't forget to bring your own fork!
Tiny Salad Rules:
The salads are chopped so that they can be:
1. Eaten with just a fork
2. Eaten quickly
3. Eaten at your station/desk. etc. with little to no mess
4. Eaten without being detected that you are actually taking a moment to nourish yourself to get through the misery of your workday.
Chopped "Garden" Salad
Caesar Salad with Leftover Bread Croutons
Caesar Dressing:
BBQ Chicken Chopped Salad (inspired by California Pizza Kitchen)
Sunday, October 6, 2024
Don't Call It Retro: The Cosmopolitan Cocktail Has Always Been in Style
I hear there is a revival happening right now- a retro cocktail revival. Something about the "fluorescent nostalgia of old school cocktails" as noted by Sam Stone in Bon Appetit magazine this month. In the article they described a new version of the electric green Appletini showing up in a cocktail bar in New Orleans. I have no problem with a comeback story. I love the idea of a phoenix rising out of the ashes. The issue have here is that this drink made popular in the 1990's is considered "old school" as if it were a classic gin martini garnished with a single green olive-the kind my grandmother would have ordered if she actually drank that sort of thing. Designating something that was popular in the 1990's as retro also signals to me that I am now officially old and I don't like to be reminded of that since I will forever think of myself as 25 and impossibly young.
Other "Comeback Cocktails" listed in the article (Neon Retro Redux) include the Cosmopolitan made popular in the late 1990's -early 2000's by Carrie and her fabulous friends in "Sex and the City". But I contend that this very cool drink never went out of style and it continues to be top on my list of go-to's. And those four ladies will always represent the epitome of a cool, strong female power squad. I think we need to channel that energy now more than ever, don't you?
Recently, though the ever glam Cosmopolitan cocktail reached an even higher rung on my list when I had one -dare I say, "the best version I have ever tasted"?- at Fisherman's View Restaurant in Sandwich, MA. Not your typical SATC vibe, a nice-tame place overlooking the water that was way too crowded on a Saturday night after Labor Day but the cocktail was perfection: bright pink hue disguising the booziness of the vodka, eye pleasing contrast with the lime wheel garnish but the best part was the balance of tart and sweet from the ingenious swap out of a cranberry shrub for the typical cranberry juice cocktail. I am salivating just thinking about it now.
Now this is a reboot that I can get behind.
The Fisherman's View Restaurant calls theirs the "Cape Cod Cosmo". If you are ever in Sandwich, MA be sure to stop by and sample it for yourself. Until then, make this at home as this version tastes pretty close to theirs.
Sunday, August 11, 2024
Breakfast Sandwich❤️
It's literally the least I can do. He is barely home at all this summer. Off to work, playing golf, baseball or hanging out with his girlfriend. Everything I want for him the summer before he heads off to college. Except that I miss him already.
So, I get up at 5:00am to see him off. I make him a breakfast sandwich to go. Crisp bacon, one egg cooked over hard- yolk broken, no longer runny, topped with melted cheese. Two slices: one to glue the bacon to the egg and another to glue the bacon to the top of the sandwich. Toasted everything bagel, a skim of sweet butter, wall to wall. Cut in half and loosely wrapped in foil. I rest it on a folded piece of paper towel so that he won't be tempted to wipe his greasy hands on his khaki work shorts. Don't forget the iced (black) coffee, leftovers from yesterday in a to go coffee cup.
"Bye mom, love you."
"Have a great day. Love you."
Some have made comments, teased me for continuing to make my son's lunch for him to take to school everyday his senior year in high school just as I had been doing since he started preschool. Was I doing too much? Was I not allowing him to grow up? Coddling him? I mentioned these feelings to my friend Sheila.
"That is your love language. Don't stop."
She is right. I felt so validated.
I am going to make that sandwich everyday until he leaves for college. Then I am going to make it again when he comes home. I hope I get to make it for a long, long time.
Friday, July 5, 2024
Berries, Balsamic and Basil
Oh what to serve for dessert? I just casually extended a last minute invite to Hot Dog Night. The oven has been broken for a week and the cupboard is essentially bare except for the aforementioned hot dogs and a bag of potato chips which shall be served as the vegetable accompaniment to this lavish meal.
Thankfully, it's just the beginning of summer and the local strawberries are plump and juicy. Around here you can pick your own at Andrews Farm or snag some at a roadside farm stand. And if you are especially brave to battle the crowd on Thursday afternoon at the Falmouth Farmers Market you may be able to find them there. Luckily I arrived early enough before the berries were sold out. Although I was incredibly anxious as I waited in the line that snaked around Pariah Dog Farm's tent and watched as those ahead of me grabbed 1 No! 2 Oh No! 3 pints at a time. I watched in fear as they slowly emptied the table display. Would there be any left by the time it is my turn?
Berries safely in hand, my brain goes to how to serve them? Of course, I could offer these beauties naked on a plate as a super chefy move...barely doing anything to the fruit. Really? No. Short cake is out of the question- no oven and grocery store bought anything with these berries? Nope. Hmmm. Strawberries and cream? Maybe. Strawberries and ice cream? Perhaps. The best of both worlds combining macerated strawberries from the short cake recipe and something creamy sounds about right. But add a twist, something unexpected: balsamic vinegar? OK. Now something green, herby. Basil? Yes.
I learned this simple combination from someone at the farmers market years ago but I can't exactly remember who. An idea presented in a conversation with the farmer or another strawberry fan? It has never been written down by me which I find to be surprising since this super easy and irresistible recipe is my yearly go to when the strawberries are so ripe and delicate that they must be eaten within a 24 hour window. Sliced berries, a few tablespoons of sugar, a pinch of salt and a dash of balsamic vinegar. Mix together just before sitting down for dinner. The berries will have released their juices to create a luscious syrup by the time your are ready to eat dessert. Serve this magical concoction over vanilla ice cream or my favorite: vanilla bean flecked Greek yogurt. Garnish with torn fresh basil leaves.
Aside from all the stress of the broken oven and worry over purchasing local berries, Hot Dog Night is as simple and easy as one can imagine. And this dessert is no exception. Grill the dogs, toast the buns, open a bag of chips and settle at the table. As long as I have mustard, relish and ketchup (heavily back stocked in the pantry year round), the earth will continue its rotation around the sun at least for this evening. Enjoying fresh berries that can only be found at this time of year signals summer and all of its promise of lazy days at the beach, hydrangea blooming, dining on the deck and a certain lightness that can only be felt right here right now.
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