Brussels making their first appearance at the market may as well be a holiday- I get that happy, that excited. Not even kidding. I completely, achingly and absolutely love them. On second thought, “Love” might not be the word Im looking for…its a bit light yeah? It downplays the seriousness of my affection. Love fades, existing as an ebb and flow of emotion- my interest in Brussels does not.

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This might just be the last of it. The last of my garden, the last of my beets and carrots, kale and salad greens. Good riddance…I mean that, I do. This past season was brutal- growing less than kind. A portion of this years beds, a number of my beautiful little food producers suffered and in the end collapsed. The worst part? I was powerless as my plants devolved to pathetic. My kale became infested with tiny bugs early on and it seemed there was nothing that I could do to deter the little fuckers. Resigned, I ate (a lot of) insects and tried to not think about it too much.

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Rain is quickly becoming our citys backdrop again. Its happening fast, this change. Grey- the favorite color, damp- the most familiar sensation. Fall, means leaves tracked into the house & an increase in time spent inside doing whatever it is we do when it gets dark at four in the afternoon- read? Drink? Both, simultaneously? Yes please.

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Its only appropriate right?

Culinary school, food writing, farm chasing… all of it was bound to culminate somewhere- and so it has, and here I am and at long last…

here we are.

Im finally doing food & my partner in crime is Vanessa- a good pal of mine that is as talented as she is easy on the eyes. We make a damn good team…believe you me, the two of us are a force to be reckoned with. 

We’re calling ourselves Forage & Feast and we’re doing catering/personal chef work with a focus on local and seasonal fare.

Our food is simple, the flavors delicious, the ingredients well sourced and if I may say so myself-

its all real pretty to boot.

Camping is not something I do too often and theres a couple reasons for that. First, I dislike tents (and people for some reason are always really opposed to me sleeping by the fire- which is where Im most comfortable) and second, I love food too much to suffer through canned chili and fucking trail mix for days on end. Well, I can finally put one of those issues to rest- I was sent a cookbook to review and I am smitten with it. This is no ordinary recipe book…this is a cookbook for me and for all the other folks out there that want to camp but are unwilling to settle for sub par meals while enjoying the outdoors.

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I dont like pie. I know, I know- everyone fucking loves pie, I hear about it all the time. Pie this and pie that and “oh its so good” and “you dont know what you’re missing” and “you’re the devil” and “its really in right now” and blah blah blah. But I dont- and do you know why? Because I still have all my teeth. Pie is old people food. Dont get me wrong, at 70, Im sure Ill adore pie- hell, Im sure Ill eat it for every damn meal and enjoy each soggy bite- but until then, no thanks. But cobbler, (which is kind of the cousin of pie) is a different story. Im a fan. Admittedly, my tastes dont always make a whole hell of a lot of sense, but there it is. Im complicated- dont judge.

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Im quickly nearing my asparagus threshold. Real quickly. And when I say “quickly” what I mean is I have surpassed it altogether….a week ago. Asparagus in any and all forms makes me scowl. Perhaps I overdid it by eating it every day? Well…yes, yes that may be the case but who knew? It was so delicious and fresh and screamed Spring and I loved it and ate it greedily knowing that it would be gone just as quick as it had come and then I liked it too much and now I hate it. And that folks, is the story of my life.

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Im not sure what to do with these. Im oddly stymied by how darling they are. Carrots usually dont have this effect on me mind you…but just look at them. They’re small and bright and just damn perfect. Oh and they’re deliciously sweet as well so it seems as though cooking them would border on criminal. I plucked these from my garden this past weekend as well as some lovely lettuce (which was consumed almost on the spot as I went about collecting the carrots). And kale! I grew so much (maybe too much?) kale. Dino kale is something I eat copious amounts of on a daily basis. Love it, cant get enough of it.

As a kid I loved a good raised sugar donut. That soft yeasty deliciousness was my absolute favorite treat- I was loyal, no other type would do. Throughout my childhood, I can recall many a messy car ride with that particular donut in hand, the sugar finding its way into my hair and coating my face as I attempted to eat while my Mama drove. Sweet memories like that are sometimes all it takes to push me into the kitchen.

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Beautiful aren’t they? I started these adzuki beans a few days ago and have closely watched their transformation from hard, tight & brown to soft & green. That shit never fails to amaze me. Now they’re ready, ready for me to toss into generous salads coated with creamy dressings, to incorporate into meals making each that much more tasty and most importantly, ready for me to eat by the loving healing handful following my long runs.

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