My grandmother’s cornbread was a crisp golden brown. It was cast iron. It was a mason jar of bacon grease kept in the cupboard and a jug of buttermilk in the door of the Frigidaire. It was “home again …
Blueberry, Basil, and Goat Cheese Hand Pies
I once found them dull, but they’ve grown on me, the blueberries. They’re the stray marbles populating the bottom of my basket, rolling across the red cottage oak floor, staining the soles of my bare …
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Roasted Tomato & Scallion Tart with a Whole Wheat Cheese Crust
It’s tomato season, or ‘mater season as it were, and summer is bearing down on us with apocalyptic might. I find myself daily brewing iced tea with new found diligence, but being a cold natured thing …
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Buttermilk & Berry scones: Blueberry Lemon & Blackberry Thyme
Not being a Briton, I don’t believe I can weigh in on what constitutes a “proper” scone, but I do know that the ubiquitous dry lumps languishing in coffeeshop display cases do not tempt me. Except for …
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Peach Curd & Rosewater Tartlets with Basil Whipped Cream and Nasturtium Flowers
The summer solstice is fast approaching, and this is food for the denizens of summer, the fair folk of the emerald isle of Tír na nÓg, the faeries. I used to believe in them. I believed in diaphanous …
Peanut Butter and Chocolate Cake: Perfect Imperfection
I prefer a life lived in. Real perfection is necessarily imperfect: it’s polymorphous, in flux, crooked, and warm, cluttered and lopsided. You won’t find it in a catalogue. That contrived, mechanical …
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