The Pigeons Go to Church, Barcelona, 2003 I’ve been waiting all year to try this recipe, but when the time came, I was almost too lazy to do it. The end of October Can Jam week was rapidly approaching, and I just didn’t want to get off my butt and deal with a pile of…
Because the apples are falling and the light is fading under its own golden weight. Because a road trip scrubs the rough edges from a tired mind. I threw a bag into the backseat and headed north. Ukiah, Booneville, Philo Elk, Jenner, Freestone I found fruit. I drove. I talked to myself. I drove. I…
When sorting rosehips, bring your patience. As someone who can’t stop putting food in jars, I sometimes get my priorities confused. On one hand, I have a compulsion to forage. I don’t know a lot of other middle-aged, middle-class women in Marin County who scale the fences of foreclosed properties or run off into the…
This isn’t what it looks like. Yes, it is a bunch of booze on a hotel bedspread. But I can explain. Today, I’m on an impromptu road trip to enjoy some fall color in Northern California. Yesterday, I happened to be at BevMo, ho-humming around the aisles while Stewart chose a bottle of wine for…
I spent the last two days at BlogHer Food, a conference attended by more than 300 food bloggers in San Francisco. I don’t know what’s more strange — that I have become a food blogger or that I chose to cloister myself with a crowd of people in a large, downtown hotel on a beautiful…
It’s impossible to hold on to a sour mood when you have three pounds of beautiful raspberries in a farm box on your lap. I tried, but it didn’t work. After a frustrating day on Wednesday, I was dragging when Stewart called to ask whether I wanted to meet him at our local farmer’s market….