Dog whisperer.
Please follow the steps.
Notice the dominant stance, reminiscent of his days as a team leader:
Resistance:
Indifference:
Adoration:
Submission:
Acceptance:
A moment between mentor and pupil:
“It was a pleasure, Mr. Charlie, sir.”
After weddings and farming and Athens and Louisville (more on that later), I spent a week with Caroline and Meredith at their house in glorious Nashville, Tennessee.
I taught Caroline my best kitchen skill: peeling cherry tomatoes.
I have a recent obsession with both breakfast radishes and sugar snap peas.
Caroline’s boyfriend’s friend’s cousin’s uncle’s dad or something or other has a barbecue place a little ways outside of Nashville. Heed my word: don’t try the hot sauce.
Stickin’ with the ol’ One-Ear-In One-Ear-Out policy. Classic.
“Let’s call this piece ‘America.’”
Chaw
Before leaving I went over to my friend Matt’s house to meet the newest additions, Waylon and Reba, the cutest black Labs other than my own.
Reba: poised. Waylon: ??
is a band comprised of some of my mom’s high school buddies. Three days before my birthday they’re playing a concert in San Sebastian in the same building where I used to work (seemingly) 24/7. Coincidence? I think not.
Beneath swaying Spanish moss and chandeliers made of cotton branches, I was the guest of a guest at the most lovely of lovely Southern weddings.
A stranger told us that we “had eyewear just nailed.” Andrew replied by saying they were rented.
I left Athens late one evening and drove down to Douglasville, Georgia, where my friends Katherine Kennedy and Rebecca Ennis have been working on a little piece of the good Georgia earth that they call Ivabell Acres. Katherine, a cat named Jolene, and a rotating cast of volunteers sleep in a modified camper; Rebecca and her husband Patrick stay in the main house with the farm’s owners Skip and Cookie; and when I was there, a guy named John was bunking in a farm shed. We got up when the sun rose, Katherine whipped up a batch of muffins, and our friend Carrie came down from Atlanta to spend the day with everyone.
I was assigned to strawberry picking, and after eight rows of them, I decided that they should cost at least fifty dollars a pound for all the trouble they are to harvest. When we finished up weighing greens and washing turnips, Carrie and I, as the guests, plucked some vegetables straight from the hot earth (and some eggs straight from hot hens) and made everyone some lunch.
Sleepin’ porch:
No idea what was funny:
The day I left Athens I had lunch with my friend Lauren Anne, who works as chef Hugh Acheson’s assistant; when I told her I was heading to the farm, she sent me off with a stack of t-shirts from Hugh’s new restaurant to pass around to fellow former Athenians.
All in all, it was a beautiful day in the hot sun with some wonderful friends. A winner in my book.
Part one of my road trip: Athens, Georgia.
My first stop was dinner at my favorite restaurant, The National, with my dear friend and host for the weekend Kathryn, brilliant photographer, brilliant redhead, and top-five road-trip partner of all time.
Brunch at Mama’s Boy came next with a special episode of Behind One Fern with host Ethan Payne.
Mama’s Boy with Jessica and Katie.
My high school friends Tom, Hubie, Hank, Nat, and Dan all live out in nearby Winterville on Three Pigs Farm where they tend to chickens, pigs, and a few vegetables. Katie and I went out there after breakfast, and Nat and Hank had been awake since the day before roasting this pig…
Hank’s schoolbus/fort:
One of the farmhouses:
So, she became part of the FourCoursemen dinner shortly after our visit…
At Winterville’s Marigold Festival with our friend Ben, whom I hadn’t seen since he moved to South Korea a few years ago.
Jessica, John, and Leg.
Robbie + Katie
Nate.
Love this
Bartons
We couldn’t get enough of each other, so we all went to Taquería del Sol for SUCH a good dinner. Seriously, I love this place.
A chip. In the shape of Georgia. Unbelievable.
A little Sunday morning stroll around town before taking Katie to the airport :-( There was a delightful little stand with the most delicious Arnold Palmer (tea + lemonade) popsicles.
I love the Thompson’s apartment.
My friend Cameron has been cooking at Hugh Acheson’s Five and Ten for a while now, and I tagged along for an evening in the kitchen. It was a slow Monday night, but I got to check out what goes on and chat a bit with each of the cooks at this Athens landmark spot.
Dessert sketches:
Cameron:
After quick cocktail or seven at Highwire with Kathryn, Patrick and Matthew Lee, next-day lunch at White Tiger, and a house-tour with Lauren Anne and Traveller, I headed on my way to do a little farming…
A few days before I left to go back to the sweet South, the usual group - me, Cass, Lutxi, Iñaki, and Beñat - went to nearby Hondarribia to pay a visit to Gran Sol, a bar known for its creative pintxos.
Gran Sol is another one of those places mentioned in the oft-referenced New York Times article last summer about the gastronomy of Hondarribia rivaling its far-more-famous neighbor. Chef Bixente Muñoz, a former protégé of Basque superstar Martín Berasategui, serves up inventive and playful plates, and between the five of us we sampled at least one of everything on the menu.
We made it inside just before the heavens opened up and all the world’s water fell upon Hondarribia:
The atmosphere is warm and unpretentious with a cool mural opposite the bar and plaques and awards on the walls and shelves. One thing seriously lacking, however, is a bit of menu editing. The very literal English translations were pretty funny and a couple were incomprehensible without a Spanish menu at hand, but even that was wrought with misspellings and random punctuation.
Without further ado, a Who’s Who of Gran Sol’s offerings, with Gran Sol’s attempt at translation (see if you can guess what they are):
“Jaizkibel” champiñon relleno de mousse de queso con jamón ibérico y alioli/”Jaizkibel mushroom stuffed with cheese mousse, Iberian ham, and alioli sauce:
“Medieval” estofado de hongos con juego de verduras, huevito de cordoniz, aire de espinaca y bruma de jaizkibel/”Medieval” Game of vegetables with egg and Jaizkibel mist.
Huevo mollete al oro sobre migas de pastor al txipirón y jugo de ave/Quilded soft-boiled egg on straw potatoes with squid’s ink and chicken broth (ok, a hint: the “quilded” egg was a soft-boiled egg “gilded” with a bit of edible gold. Super cool, actually.)
Confite de pollo relleno de queso de cabra y compota de manzana/Confit of chicken stuffed with goat cheese and applesauce:
Capricho de txipirón, foie y arroz con pan crujiente beltza/Squid whim, foie gras and crispy rice bread beltza:
Laminas de bakalao a la galega y crema de setas a la albahaca/Prints of cod, the Galician and cream of mushroom with basil:
“Hondarribia” tosta de bacalao con pimiento de piquillo, foie, y dulce de melocotón/”Hondarribia” smoked cod on toast with red pepper, foie gras, and peach syrup:
Foie-gras a la sartén con cabello d angél y reducción de piña/Pan-fried foie gras with pineapple juice and grated pumpkin:
Carrillera cocinada a 63º con foie jengibre y polvo de palomitas/Cheek cooked to 63, with foie gras, ginger, and powdered popcorn:
Foie con queso carameizado y reducción de mosto con mostaza a la antigua/Foie gras and caramelized cheese, concentrated grape juice, old-fashioned mustard:
A few short days later Caroline headed back to Nashville in the blessed South where the weather is warm and sticky, country tunes hang in the air, and the cicadas are swarming with a 17-year vengeance.
We sent her off properly with some delightful pintxos from Astelena, a fantastic place in the Old Part.
Black rice risotto:
Seared foie:
Quail drumsticks:
Duck magret:
She fits in nicely, no?
There’s nothing I loathe more or miss less than the tiresome Facebook updates of and/or conversations about “engagement” pictures.
We took some typically touristic pictures at the Peine del Viento, a series of three steel sculptures by the Basque artist Eduardo Chillida located at the far end of Bahía de la Concha, the main bay of San Sebastian.
It looks like we’re excited about our upcoming nuptials and are just delighted about how much our life is like our favorite rom-com.
After finally finishing our luscious and luxurious lunch in the mountains, we stopped in the town of Espelette to take advantage of a bit of sunlight and a bit of spice. Espelette is the home of the piment d’espelette, or espelette pepper, a red capsicum that lends quite a punch to otherwise mild-mannered Basque cuisine. Its growing region is limited to a small area of the French Basque Country, and in the early 2000s it received the A.O.C. designation, meaning that only those grown in the area can be labeled as ‘espelette.’
The town is covered in them, being hung to dry on every available surface after their late-summer harvest.
Imaginations have run wild in the pepper-processing, and the main street is lined with shops offering every possible manifestation: powders, flakes, salts, sauces, vinegars, jellies, pickles, and even a few spicy chocolates.
After a little stroll, we headed back to Donosti, got an ice cream, and sat at the port like any proper girls should do on a beautiful evening.
I love her.
