Harvest and Honey

An open-ended love letter, culinarily inspired.


the liquid generation


The hum of hungry, progressively caffeinated patrons. Chairs scooting around on floors. Partially used butter and jelly tubs strewn across tables. Syrupy smudged fingerprints from small, eager hands. The crack of an egg. The flip of a flapjack. The waiter or waitress paused, pad and pen at the ready, about to take the next order. 

“What’ll it be ma’am?”

“I’ll have the ginger-carrot-apple juice, with a boost of ginseng please. And also a coffee. Actually, I’ll do a decaf latte … I already had two cups before we got here.”

“Mmm hmm. And for you, sir?”

“I’ll just have a cup of black tea if you’ve got it. I think I’d also like to try your wheatgrass tonic and a large orange juice. And a coffee to go – black – but extra, extra hot. Can you do that? Like   s c r e a m i n g   hot?

“You got it. I’ll put those drink orders in for y’all and be back with your waters.”


 Name your restaurant. Name your town. Name your decade, even. The weekend breakfast rush probably looks and feels and smells and sounds almost exactly the same, no matter where your map dot may be and no matter what year it might say on the calendar. That is, of course, with one glaring exception …

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summer salts

IMG_4673Hibiscus and Honey Poached Plums with Raspberry Ripple No-Churn Ice Cream and Vanilla SaltIMG_4896IMG_4901Hibiscus and Honey Poached Plums with Raspberry Ripple No-Churn Ice Cream and Vanilla SaltIMG_4979Sweet Onion Linguine with Anchovies, Arugula and Walnuts

I hit my head on the overhead luggage compartment as I took my seat on the plane. Wham! Audible gasps, groans, and “ooohhhs” arose from the rows all around me. The kind-eyed man seated next to me got up so as to let me and my bruised head slip past him into my assigned window seat: seat 17F, right on the wing. I smiled at him in thanks.

“Oh, I’m alright! Really it’s okay. I do that all the time.”

It was possibly one of the weirdest things I could have said. For starters, it wasn’t even true – just a complete bold-faced lie. I hadn’t even flown in over three years. Also, casually telling someone that I hit my head all the time makes me seem insane, and now this gentle giant of a man in 17E would most likely sit in wonderment over the peculiar woman to his right. I inadvertently glanced down at his phone, which he was now attempting to set on “airplane mode” per attendant Pam’s instructions. He succeeded, but not before I was able to make out the fact that he was listening to Taylor Swift. It wasn’t even her new album, this had to have been at least a couple albums ago, if my musical calculations are correct. So, on second thought, maybe it was I who was going to be doing the wondering …

Our plane began to creep higher in the sky and as I eased my chair back in an attempt to further relax and calm my now throbbing head, my mind wandered right on back home; to last Tuesday to be exact … Continue reading