On figs and cats and torches and summer coming to a close

Tonight Jack convinced me to drill a small hole through a stick he'd found so that he could insert a match and light it, thus making an Olympic torch. As you may not be surprised to hear, a match burns pretty quickly, so "torch" was an ephemeral status.

"No, Mom, I've got it! We need gasoline!"

"No, Jack, we're not pouring gasoline into a handheld twig. Thank you. Goodnight."

"Moooooooooooom."

"No."

30 minutes later, T and I are presented with this.

Another 60 minutes later, I check on the children to find that both have drawn red marker and black ink pen beards on their faces and are wearing Italia hoodies. Oliver is drooling onto his pillow-whilst gnawing on corn last night, another top tooth dislodged and so he is now minus his front four which is really pretty significant- and Jack is still awake which does not bode well for tomorrow, the final day of camp.

The good thing about camp ending is that I do not have to pack another lunch until next summer.

The bad thing about camp ending is that camp is ending and we have three weeks left until school resumes. LAWD! SO MANY HOURS IN A DAY!

I will seek refuge in the Nut who continues to be adorably imperious and delightfully plump, and I will continue to encourage anyone listening to vote not only Donald Trump off our island but also Ryan Lochte. At least he hasn't resurrected his grill.

Today I admired and photographed figs and also cooked the boys a lovely dinner that required no more than three teeth to eat and then made a rainbow carrot and raisin salad. The evening light glows so becomingly this time of year; if you can avoid the mosquitan bandits out for all your blood, you will be rewarded with beautifully lit, no flash photos. 

As an added bonus tonight, I leave you with this truly HYSTERICAL Ode to Synchronized Swimming. 

A review of Kinship and a quiet night in my kitch

Last night, Tom and I went to a work event at Kinship, a marvelous new contemporary American restaurant in DC's Shaw neighborhood. Opened by Eric Ziebold (former chef of CityZen) and his wife and partner, Célia Laurent, Kinship is a relatively small (just 55 seats) place on 7th St NW with an unassuming exterior and a minimalist but very warm interior.

Last night's menu was set but still a terrific way to first experience Kinship. Frankly, I enjoyed the lack of decision-making. I enjoyed simply being fed by people who seemed to care deeply about the food they prepared and served.

Passed hors d'oeuvres included mushroom fritters with a sunchoke reduction, lobster profiteroles, tuna atop a fried chanterelle, and duck loin. A beautiful sparkling rosé complemented and enlivened each bite, although a zippy Sancerre, a smooth red, and an open bar were also up for grabs.

Isn't this butter pleasing? I love the serving plates too. 

My favorite dish of the evening was our first course once seated: grilled okra and baby corn atop chilled summer succotash, cilantro vinaigrette, and red pepper sorbet.

Yep, that is straight up red pepper sorbet.

I ADORE okra, succotash of any stripe, cilantro and red peppers so felt good about this from the moment I first saw it. But oh wow, each bite was nearly blissful. The sorbet could have so easily derailed the whole thing, but it didn't. It was so bright and herbaceous and cool- a lovely compliment in both taste and color to the rest of the plate.

Next up was a pan-seared redfish with shrimp and bell pepper jambalaya and Old Bay emulsion which was lighter than air, and finally, a dry-aged ribeye with mustard-braised spinach, Gruyère steamed pudding and a sauce Dijonnaise. 

People, the mustard-braised greens were TO.DIE.FOR. Do you hear me? TO.DIE.FOR. 

With all that goodness we drank a Burgundian white, the 2013 Alain Gras, Saint-Romain, as well as a 2011 Spottswoode Cab from St. Helena. I adored the white, admit to hardly paying attention to the Cab (egads!) as speeches and toasts were ramping up at this point and had to leave to relieve our sitter just prior to the serving of whipped chocolate nougat with whipped crème fraîche, espresso caramel, cacao nibs and chocolate sorbet. What a tragedy to miss that.

I did have a lovely cappuccino and tried to buy this cup and saucer from Kinship, but to no avail.

The service was impeccable, the ambience lovely and welcoming- think Scandinavian rustic-chic meets peonies and a hide rug in a library. I look forward to returning soon!

***

Tonight, after I tucked the kids in, I decided I did not have the stomach to stand watching the RNC and so took to my kitchen, perhaps inspired by last night and the fact that T left town today and so I could go vegetarian with no sad face carnivore peeping over my shoulder.

I'd bought some stunning, plump Turkish figs today (which then prompted the purchase of some creamy blue cheese and visions of caramelized onions and a tart) and, while rummaging through my freezer this afternoon, found some puff pastry squares I'd bought at that fab Persian market the boys and I discovered in April.

I also had some beautiful chioggia beets, and as they happen to love blue cheese too, I tossed them in the oven to roast. Long story short because now I see that it's getting very late and I'm tired and teaching in the morning, tartlets. 

STUNNING roasted and peeled chioggia beets

Aren't they darling and tempting? I ate four. And those beets. G'night!

Figgy Flatbread

Last night, I had after-dinner plans with dear friend, M, to drink champagne and look at each other's wedding albums. As I had not laid eyes on mine in years and have only seen one of M's wedding pics, I knew it'd be a lovely way to spend a Monday evening. But first, migraine elimination and dinner. I pretty much gave up on the former but was determined to make a lovely meal regardless. During my writing class on Sunday, Lili told us about her son's new job as a line cook at one of John Besh's new spots in NOLA and in doing so dropped word of some ridiculously amazing pizza that included mascarpone, fresh figs and prosciutto. As I had just bought some figs and could not stop thinking about this pizza, I took a break from Jack's room yesterday afternoon to make a batch of Peter Reinhart's Neapolitan pizza dough.

After letting it rise for several hours, I pulled off about a sixth of the dough, shaped it into a thin crust and spread it with a film of mascarpone, some caramelized shallots I'd just made, sliced figs, salt, bacon (I just can't find the love for prosciutto; I do love speck but couldn't find it yesterday.) and a bit of fresh mozzarella. Once the pizza stone and grill were adequately heated, I popped this baby on until just done, spread some fresh arugula on top and dove in.

Today, my migraine is largely gone, Jack's room is finally clean, last night was so lovely and fun and I have two small wedges of figgy flatbread left!