I semi-forgot that I was going to be at a very wholesome hen do in Herefordshire last weekend, which really tells you how last minute I write my newsletters. The good news is that, as expected, the sun has topped up my serotonin levels, so goodbye sad girl spring and hello Cool Tomato Summer (IYKYK) and on Sunday I will actually publish a short essay that’s a call to arms to transition from Coastal Grandma to Forest Aunt. Until then, here’s a bunch of things I’ve been eating, drinking, reading and thinking about this week.
To elaborate on Cool Tomato Summer: it’s tomatoes-on-toast season, which signals morning coffees in the sun and not spending too much time in the kitchen because we all would rather be drinking rosé in the park. I spent £3 on a perfectly ripe Isle Of Wight tomato and I can’t regret it, because it’s lasted me a week, each thick slice a portal to my kind of heaven. To be specific: toast, lashings of mayo, fridge-cold tomato, Maldon salt, cracked black pepper, a drizzle of peppery olive oil and some snipped fresh chives.
On a similar theme, Tuesday’s 26ºC weather meant a morning spent at the Ladies’ Pond, cooing at mandarin ducklings and spooning homemade egg salad onto bread and slicing cucumbers. No signal, a few offline Google Docs and multiple podcasts. Bliss.
Many people (unsurprisingly) sent me this Guardian article about chucking out recipes in favour or eating intuitively. Which is pretty much the premise of Since No One Asked. I wholeheartedly agree.
This piece on the solace you can find in the aisles of a discount grocery store.
Splaying your chicken! Easier than spatchcocking with the same effect! Thank you New York Times Cooking.
More evidence of the upcoming Cool Tomato Summer.
Alternatively, if you’re into a hot girl summer vibe, may you use Georgia O’Keefe as inspiration.
Tomato content won’t stop coming. Towpath by way of George Reynolds.
CTS also means eating meals at strange times, so before a dinner at Brutto last night: a glass of dry white wine and a simple salad of rocket, tomatoes, cukes, feta, spring onion and avocado dressed with lemon and olive oil. Chef’s kiss!
Finally, the prospect of a sunset picnic on Telegraph Hill drinking Cornish rosé and spooning creamy burrata onto the fluffiest and oiliest rosemary foccacia. Hope you plan on doing something just as sun-soaked and decadent.