The day before we left for Minneapolis, my mom brought me a bag of peaches from her tree. I wish I could say this peach cobbler with brown butter chestnut biscuits was made from her peaches, but I’d be lying. I thought about saying it anyway – how would you ever know? – but then I remembered something: I’m a terrible liar.
After surviving a Minneapolis heat wave last week – humidity and all – I feel like the Bay Area is never allowed to complain about heat ever again (like that’s going to stop me…my face melted off into cobbler today). The Airbnb I booked for Lucas, Zoella, and my mom said it had “AC units and fans fans fans to keep it tolerable on the hottest of days.” Let it be known, the sweltering 97°F inside was anything but tolerable. Dear Airbnb host: popsicles might make it tolerable. Highly recommend these hibiscus lemonade popsicles, for example.
I’m chopping up this mint jicama cantaloupe salad while practicing my breathing. The world said goodbye to a magic maker last week – unexpectedly too early. Two, actually. Just two weeks ago, I woke up to a group message to the 2007 cast of The Ash Girl. It was our former director letting us know of the sudden passing of our Prince Rocky, who suffered a heart attack – “So sad. I’ll see you tomorrow at the service. Best to all ❤.”
These were his last words to us. Last weekend, by way of his own heart attack, Paul Backer joined Rocky wherever they are (acting silly somewhere, I’m sure). The world is less energetic, goofy, loving, and creative without these two souls. I found out about Paul’s passing as I was writing about my sleepwalking nightmare, which would have tickled him.
Last night I did something dangerous. After I finished off the last of this vegan coconut black sesame ice cream with strawberry swirl as a night-cap. Long after we put Zoella down in her crib – where she instantly rolled onto her belly to drift off to sleep. After we too had snuggled in for the night with the cats.
I studied French for five years – from high school through college – but I still can’t say “financier” properly – 50% of the time it comes out with a harsh American R trailing behind. Fortunately these nut-free pepita financiers are much prettier and more delicate than the sound of their name rolling off my tongue.
With temperatures reaching about a billion degrees, cold dinner is where it’s at. I could live off this vegan sunflower butter buckwheat noodle bowl through the dog days of summer. It’s my jam. With the house all but melting into The Bay, we’ve found another new evening groove to keep the babe cool and mama sane.
On Zo’s first playdate with the neighbor baby, he pulled her hair so hard she cried. I told her it means he likes her (or else is jealous of her 3-month-old floppy mop of locks). I think she understood because on their next playdate, she stuck his hand in her mouth. Assertive and knows what she wants. Licking something to claim it as your own is a valuable life skill. Take these berry, herb, and cheese toast bites, for example. I licked them all. They’re mine.
I used to be a kid who loved dirt. Over the 4th of July, I could camp by the lake for a week without a shower, not worrying about the crud under my fingernails or whatever was nesting in my hair. Back then we ate s’mores over the campfire every night. Twenty years later, we still return the same lake every summer, but now we stay in a cabin and eat this gluten-free pistachio rose cake topped with rose-scented strawberries for dessert.