Although I’m beyond overdue for my monthly food for thought post, I’m going to ease back into blogging with the various links I’ve compiled over the last month. Then, when we get back to Pennsylvania on Tuesday, hopefully I’ll get to make something refreshing and sweet with some summer peaches. If not, there’s always the recipe for chocolate waffles that I’ve been wanting to share. Until then, I leave you with July’s food for thought:
I haven’t been reading as much as I would have liked recently, but what I have managed to read–one collection of essays by the hilarious and incorrigible Calvin Trillin, Alice, Let’s Eat, and Anthony Doerr’s incredibly beautiful and suspenseful All the Light We Cannot See—has been nothing short of amazing. I read the latter with my long-distance book club buddy and it was one of the best books I’ve read all year (it joined The Department of Speculation and Bleak House). Next on our list: Orhan Pamuk’s My Name is Red. In the meantime, my current road trip book is Go Set a Watchman; despite the early criticism I read, how could I not return for the adventures of Scout, aka Jean Louise, at 26?
I was excited to learn recently that Jhumpa Lahiri, whose short stories I find as captivating as Chekhov’s, wrote a collection of essays in Italian (!)–she has been living in Rome (one of my dream cities) for several years now–that will be translated into English and published in early 2016. One reason I’m interested in this collection is that it discusses what it means to live in another language, how one recreates oneself when given new words and expressions…I often felt this when speaking Russian, a language in which I was known to be a “flirt” (koketka), which seems like the most preposterous thing in the world. The funny thing was that, in Russian, it was essentially spot on, although the word flirt also doesn’t do it justice.
Before leaving California, I decided to make cherry butter; call it my way of avoiding the reality of the move, or my desire to take some of California with me, but I spent a good hour one recent Sunday pitting cherries and watching my fingers turn a vibrant red. I also recently tried cherry plums, which are an interesting hybrid worth whatever outlandish price you may be charged for them (my sampling occurred at work, where fresh fruit is a staple snack).
Although a topic that won’t affect me for too much longer (not that it ever has since I’ve always lived in the East Bay), I think this article sums up the San Francisco housing/rent crisis quite nicely. Something is going to eventually have to give.
There’s nothing better than fresh herbs: a visual guide.
A meditation on pesto’s many charms.
A friend recently sent this to me and it embodies everything I love about the compactness of the Japanese language. I, for example, a person who practices tsundoku, the act of buying a book and leaving it to sit unread with other books.
When we get back to California, I’m going to eat my first ever batch of cheese curds. Any suggestions as to what to do with them besides eat them and enjoy (?) the squeaking sound they make? If not, I have this as a guide.