Why not: a birthday collage.

Dear Scott,

I made you this internet collage comprised of (beautiful) images that remind me of you. I really hope you like it.

Love,

Taylor

 

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coffee and whiskey

 

 

 

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Happiest of days to you, friend. I hope your weekend is full of even better things than Ellie giving the sneaky middle finger to you in a photo, though it’s hard to imagine what’s better than that.

 

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Jokepoem (mine).

Being Jewish

 

I’m writing a cookbook

it’s a sequel

to the much-renowned

& world-beloved

Joy of Cooking.

 

Mine’s about disasters

that occur

in the kitchen.

It’s called

The OY! of Cooking.

 

joy-of-cooking-color

(illustration via The Studio of Summer Pierre)

 

Hot damn, horseradish (poem & photograph)!

Let me tell you

about a spicy experience

a very spicy experience indeed

when I made pickled horseradish

from thick dirty roots Misha dug up

from our little vineyard in the frontyard

which I washed and scrubbed in the sink

with a round bristled brush and let them soak

in the righthand sink and peeled them with a lefty peeler

and chopped them and threw them in the Cuisinart with salt

and whey and pulsed it pulsed it added water blended it until HOT DIGGETY OUCH

I ran yelling from the stuff when I opened the lid and horseradish slid down

my throat and in through my eyes and cut off my breath and my tears

and cleared my sinuses. Hot damn, not since hot sauce have I been

that spiced outta town. Now the stuff’s in jars, stuff you’d say

you’d never eat and I rarely eat it either but every year

there it is on the seder plate and Geoff from work

tells me you can take a tablespoon of it

with lemon juice to cure an asthma

attack and hey if horseradish

is just out there growing

in your yard all free

and spicy, you’d

jar it, too.

 

 

photo-2

Image hungry (photo; painting; list).

 

First harvest.

 

 

 

Many of the houses on our hill and on surrounding hills are huge estates. Acres and acres of lawn. One lone, beautiful building. Like something Hopper would paint, or has.

 

 

 

(Edward Hopper, “House by the Railroad,” 1925.)

 

In the belly

 

baguette in spicy olive oil

eggplant parmesan (homemade!)

gazpacho (homemade!)

English muffins (homemade!)

wild grape jam (made by Misha’s dad!)

fresh burrata

dark chocolate

 

 

 

On the table

 

pint of raspberries

plums

eggplants

apple chips

summer’s last cantaloupe

a tiny tower of sheep cheese

small, wussy avocadoes (we’re not in California anymore…)

black turtle beans

 

 

In the yard

 

calendula

hops

raspberries

cherry tomatoes

rose hips

three types of grapes

black apricot trees

various plum trees

apple trees

thyme

lime thyme (!)

acorns

horseradish

Jerusalem artichoke (l’chaim)

 

 

Happy Passover (I’ve been cooking) (image).

 

 

plus I made smashed potatoes with fresh chives and rosemary. the matzoh balls are made with spelt matzoh and coconut oil and the charoset has organic diced sour cherries in it. in honor of tradition, i’ve cleaned the house of (some) crumbs. and i’ll be very, very hungry by the time we eat (it’s not passover unless you’re starved by the process!). happy first night of passover/and happy easter on sunday/& happy springtime coming in/& a very happy full moon to us & plants. amen.