Sour Cherry Pie & Pizza

Lawd a'mercy was tonight's pizza sublime. It hit every spot that needed hitting. T was working late, so I changed his side up for him a bit; you know, variety being the spice and such. I hand-painted the rolled out crust with a thin film of olive oil and sprinkled on just a bit of crushed red pepper flakes and some basil leaves. Half the pie I dressed with mandolined pattypan squash ribbons, mozzarella di bufala, dollops of ricotta, weensy dollops of pesto and some Sungolds from the yard. The remaining crust was gussied with thinly sliced heirloom tomatoes, grilled artichoke hearts, the aforementioned mozzarella and some coarsely grated smoked Piedmont, a local sheep's milk cheese that sings. Both sides were equally satisfying, and I managed to squirrel away the last piece for lunch tomorrow.

While we ate, a sour cherry pie for two cooked in the oven. I'm not a huge fan of regular cherry pies as they're so darn sweet (same for most blueberry pies; gack!), but sour cherry pie? Well, that's just magic.

Yes, I ran out of crust hence the lazy lattice. There's a story behind that and I'll share it with you tomorrow.

Is Mercury in retrograde?

Is there a full moon coming? Are End Times nigh? Is the heat making people crazy? I ask because I have seen some crazy s&*(t lately, and it's not pretty.

On Saturday, I, and about six other people, witnessed a very public, serious ado between a middle-aged married couple. They had just bought a large window screen and were storming through the hardware store parking lot screaming at each other in full throttle. She was near tears, screeching that "You're always mad at me, mean to me now. You scream at me. You're so mean!" He megaphoned back, "I'm trying to help you" before slamming her door, jumping behind the wheel of the convertible, slamming his door and burning rubber, the screen hanging out the back. He'd not driven five feet -at his weird 0-60 in 1 second flat- before pounding the breaks, yelling some more and then burning rubber again. As they roaringly careened out of the lot, the Mrs. was crying and screaming, and he was just screaming. It was awful.

Us spectators were struck dumb with sadness and a bit of horror. Where does a couple go from there? What's the next thing you say to each other, and how? Did the screen stay in the car, what with the insane slamming and speed cycles?

About an hour ago, right as rush hour commenced, I saw a bad wreck a block from my home. Some gal in a white car hit a mail truck and then continued to try and turn but hit another car (gray), hard. White car is fairly totaled, all the air bags deployed, gray car is smashed and the older lady inside was stuck between her seat and air bag, someone's car knocked down the no-turn sign (ironic) which was laying sadly in the street near the front tires of the mail truck, the mailman was pacing back and forth, spectators were gawking, a man got out of a Mini and started gesticulating wildly, a woman from the Mini joined him but said and gestured nothing, someone brought ice and water but only to Gray car, the fire trucks screamed up, the ambulance came too although it didn't seem super indicated, the city bus had to drive over the median to get past and everyone else started detouring. I was lucky to be walking and send vibes of health and hope for everyone involved.

Last night, felled by too many hours of a migraine and thus sadly kept from a party I wanted to attend, I still cobbled together a beautiful dinner. It was all red, white and green - think Italian flag more than Christmas - and just ungodly fresh. Watermelon with feta and mint; juicy Cherokee Purples sliced and layered with mozzarella and basil; red cherries; and toasted multigrain bread smeared with homemade ricotta and arugula, and drizzled with peppery olive oil and vin cotto. It was the stuff of dreams. Sad to say all my photos were blurry.

Damn Mercury.

Shrimp, cherries, a very good article

T and I have been burning.the.candle y'all, just burning away at both ends. Yo! I am what's called tuckered out. He is in bed right now. Not even kidding. Oliver spent the night with a friend last night which seemed like a big deal to everyone except him. For god's sakes, Jack has never even had a sleepover. Second children for you! He had an absolute ball. I mean, it was a homerun of a sleepover, and I say hat's off to friend E's family. He is completely wiped out now, naturally, and is vacillating between bliss and batshit. Cue the early bedtime music. I think J-bird needs to go in that direction too. He ate an entire(!) order of 2Amy's meatballs + bread + an ice cream sundae last night before bathing and then asking for another meal. We watched a movie and this morning went to the farmers market. He has been eating ever since and is gaga because his mind is a hamster wheel on speed. Our family is positively abuzz, people. Last night, Tom made me dinner: shrimp and grits, and it definitely hit the spot. He made shrimp stock from the shells, used sherry and butter, the works. He did manage to dirty ever pot and bowl we own, but bygones; he cooked for moi!

I was extremely pleased to find sour cherries at the FM this morning and bought three quarts which I've just finished pitting. Some are already freezing; the rest will be made into a pie sometime very soon. Sour cherry pie is an absolute highlight of this time of year.

Lastly, I want to draw your attention to this article, The Trauma of Parenthood, published in this morning's NY Times. Though trauma is a heavy word, this piece is right and important, especially in its call to spread kindness not judgment towards parents. The easy or blissful time you might be experiencing may be something someone else only feels fleetingly, and a lack of support for their tougher times only serves to make them feel judged, lonely, guilty and/or other negative things. I emailed the author, Eli Finkel, to say thank you, and he emailed me right back. Turns out we were a year apart at Northwestern, where he is a professor now. Very cool!