August suppers

Terrace nights. Late August is pretending to be September, which is wonderful. The air is dry, the light is clear. September in New York is one of the best months. Apart from that September, of course. The spookily blue sky can be chilling, when that date comes around.

But back to the present. The cicadas have begun their static chorus. Sometime after eight the big trees in the background start to vibrate. A cricket in the garden below krieks, as we say in Afrikaans. The Frenchman and I refer to all black crickets as Chester (from a long-ago and very charming childhood story called The Cricket of Times Square - he befriends a mouse called Bernard, who likes liverwurst).

The giant 'German Striped' tomato on the platter above was simply cut in half, salted liberally, and strewn with finely chopped chives and basil. It's the time of year when the farmers' market tells you what to eat. (And see this Instagram post for how to transform simple white cheese into the yummiest version of itself.) 

We still use a beaded net to protect against tiny little fruit fly thingies (technical name) that besiege our salads or anything acidic. (For those of you who donated to and ordered nets for Angie-the-netmaker's fund - thank you again; she is beading as we speak. Of course I still don't know when I can travel  to Cape Town to fetch nets - so your patience is appreciated!).

The pillow covers are also South African, a treat this year for myself from A Love Supreme (I see that they have a sale now, and the USD to ZAR exchange rate is very much in the dollar's favor), ordered online and FedExed to our door. I love the stylized, hot pink sugarbirds, proteas and aloe flowers on these prints.

So, South Africa, France, a bit of Canada (the Frenchman has three passports) - watching the Brooklyn sky and wondering what is next. 

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Forage, Harvest, Feast 

on Sale for $10