Cocoon Summer
and a menu for the last of warm weather produce.
Time passes differently in summer. Time passes differently in LA. Time has passed differently this year, more than ever. Most of the time, it has just… evaporated.
In January, just days before the LA fires started, my friend Jeff Baena took his own life. I was in the middle of cooking dinner when I found out. Every long hot day– every moment of peace, of awe, of confusion, of anger, of profound joy and profound sorrow– grief has been the container for my moments. But what I have not been able to find, is a container for my grief.
Food has been a way to show other people that I love them, to comfort myself. The ideas and inspiration usually come easily. This year has been very different. Being as gentle on myself as possible, trying not to force it, I’ve just found that things haven’t tasted quite right since I lost my friend. And that has felt particularly cruel in the middle of writing a cookbook. And so I’ve been angry, and depleted— which is a terrible place to cook from. Even though my recipes are so personal, and my books are such a reflection of the year I’m writing it, there really is no space for it in my book. So, instead, I have kept it close and quiet. I had a cocoon summer.
June was the month of the hummingbirds. Alone on our big property, while trimming the long hot pink fingers of bougainvillea by my studio, I found the tiniest nest; hair, spiderwebs, and two jellybean-sized eggs inside. The next two weeks, it was all-consuming. The eggs hatched– two of the smallest living breathing beings I have ever seen. It seemed impossible that they could survive even moments in this world, but day by day, they grew. Their quick heartbeats made their whole bodies pulse. Their beaks got longer, they started to get fuzzy. Curled up together in that tiny nest sleeping head-to-toe so snuggly. It wasn’t fair that they had to listen to my neighbor’s construction, so I played them Brian Eno and Harold Budd’s The Pearl, over and over again.
The babies grew little feathers and began to move their wings. Their necks stretched; thin tongues began to reach for nectar from their mother. Around day ten, they opened their eyes. I just stared at them really. I guess that’s where a lot of my time went. I felt so grateful to see something that truly felt like a tiny miracle. And the truth is I really loved them, and I knew they weren’t mine. There was this ache too, because I knew that soon they would fly away.
One day, the nest was empty. There were two hummingbirds on a branch of the elm tree. Their mother buzzed by, they both hesitated a beat, and then they were gone.
I thought somehow it would make me stronger to be able to be witness to something so beautiful and let it go. But the tenderness stayed, filling all the quiet moments. And still, beauty kept breaking through.
Filling my shirt with big juicy tomatoes from the garden. Finally a recipe that tasted new and fresh and right. Late nights of playing The Mind with old friends and new ones, learning about the LA of another time (Club Fuck!). Walking around in the same circles with the dogs. Ice-cold cantaloupe sorbet, swirled with creamy vanilla, a drizzle of olive oil, and the tiniest sprinkle of salt.
The Wong Farm mangos, heavy with summer.
THE MENU
…to savor summer, even in September.
***For this particular menu, adapted from a wonderful party I hosted with House of Hackney, Martha Stouman did custom wine pairings which I’ll be sharing and I suggest you try! Her wines are special and a perfect compliment to the food. They can be ordered online (there’s even a subscription).
Apricot Focaccia with Fennel Pollen and Honeycomb Butter
Simple Serpent Cucumber Salad
Solo Act 2022: Irreverent and singular, Solo Act can’t be pinned down. This distinct white co-ferment has floral aromatics and a long saline finish, soaking your palate in tart umeboshi. It’s a Martha fave!
Post Flirtation Rose NV No. 4:This food friendly rosé brings the whole fruit stand—a hint of strawberry-watermelon meets crisp jicama-like freshness.
Paccheri with Sungolds, Yellow Squash, and Sweet Corn
Syrah 2021: Let yourself be moved by this bottle, which takes a second to show itself. Syrah 2021 has a splash of Viognier, a French technique that adds freshness to Syrah’s more gamey notes.
Nero d’Avola Rosato NV No. 2: Hard candy! Jolly Rancher! A touch of residual sweetness makes this off-dry rosato something really special.
Cantaloupe Sorbet and Vanilla Ice Cream with Olive Oil and Sea Salt
