NOW EAR THIS: FRESH CORN AND THE SOUP THAT CELEBRATES IT

Galavanting around the Cape, we pass all manner of farm stands. Some are simple; a lone gray wood stand at the bottom of a gravel driveway with an "honor jar" in which to place our coins and dollars. Others burst with local fruits and vegetables, and flowers, too. Black-Eyed Susans, Queen Anne's Lace, and the neon blue hydrangeas that the sandy Cape Cod soil nourish. Still others up the "eat local" ante with beach plum jam and...

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THE ALLURE OF RED BELL PEPPERS (AND THE CHICKEN THEY ADORN)

A bevy of red peppers can’t go unnoticed. At once loudly gorgeous and gratifyingly utilitarian, they beckon me to turn to them from the green lettuces and yellow squash I am admiring among the farmers market stalls. Red bell peppers. Dew-moistened in the cool morning and engorged by the brilliant mid-day sun.  How can I – anyone – turn away? Red bell peppers...

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MARTHA AND ME (AND PRETTY NAPKINS)

My friend, Beth, and I passed each other on Park Street. She was on her way from class back to the Kappa house, I was on the way to my poetry workshop in Richardson Hall. We did this every Tuesday and Thursday (Thursdays often in a hangover haze. Shout out to The Hoot!). This day, she handed me a copy of the newly published book by an upstart who would go on to change the way we think about cooking, entertaining, and style. Entertaining, by Martha Stewart...

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SUMMER IS STRAWBERRIES

July 4th went out like a lion wearing red, white and blue bunting.  July 5th came in like a summer lamb, serene and still.

Our town’s roads once again reveal the pavement that was obscured during the school year by a wave of SUVs and sta-wags driven by moms ferrying kids to school, practice, orthodontist and tutor, and themselves to tennis games, yoga, shopping, and the market.  It’s a dangerous place to be, that road.  Everybody is in a hurry, chatting on phones, putting on make-up, glancing back to check on crying children, or to hand a teenager a water bottle for practice...

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CIAO, AMERICA! (THE BEER)

I drowned my nationalism in a stale beer long before Budweiser was purchased by Belgian corporation AB InBev. Italy’s iconic beers were robbed from their cradles years ago. Ironically, AB InBev purchased Peroni, too, but then sold it off to Asahi. Moretti traded its Italian passport for a Dutch one when Heineken acquired it.

But this isn't about international beer intrigue. It’s about America, damn it...

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