Yesterday, I met a new friend who says I must indulge in MFK Fisher. In particular, her essay: A Thing Shared. “New friend” seems v. private so I won’t say too much, but he’s the type of guy one listens to when it comes to words, wine and gourmandise…as well as philosophy, art and maybe G-d. I’m really just interested in the food.
I was introduced to him, and a few other Cali gems, at a “Stragglers Welcome” dinner party I cooked for last night. I made the corn that Mango & Tomato emailed me, alongside warm mustardy potatoes and garlicky chicken breasts.
Chicken was pretty but dull, like the the Plain Jane who plays soccer but isn’t sexy. Contrary to the poultry’s unremarkableness, the potatoes were bold and beautiful, illuminating shades of electric purple and slutty red. But the Queen Bee was the corn, confident as hell, effortlessly stealing the farm table thunder.
Shelley brought a badass banana bread with cream-cheese frosting from Buttercake Bakery. Be. Yond. If Best Friend Necklaces were still in style, I’d have given her one.
