she craves

"It's ... something": A Beginner's Garden

For the record, I've killed mint. Unintentionally. I'm an absolute shit gardener. Though I have Barbara Kingsolver's ambition and ideals, I've none of her experience and luck with the dirt. If it weren't for the farmers' markets and the generosity of my all-knowing gardener friends, I'd have nothing to feast on come growing season.

Backyard plots, community gardens, containers plants and window sills -- woe to any plot that comes under my surveillance. May all those past roots, sprouts and starters rest their dried out, fried out, over-neglected and under-neglected souls and next live a life of a seed that makes it into the packet that makes it into the hands of someone entirely more capable.

Goat Cheese & Chive Crostini

Consider this a party favor.

Sofia served these elegant looking things before dinner. About the size of a communion wafer -- though far more appetizing and secular -- they're versatile and flexible. Make it ahead of time. Make it as your talk with your guests in the kitchen. Make enough for four people (three crackers per person for rational people. Five for greedy little bitches like me). Or make enough for 12. The trick is a light seasoning of goat cheese and a base of rice crackers instead of the traditional wheat. You get brittle crunch and a clean finish. And, yes, those are flowers you see on them — they’re chive blossoms. They and other herb blossoms tend to echo the flavors of their respective herb – all of which grow happily in Sofia & Kenvin’s garden.

A bit of fresh goat cheese (chèvre, boucheron, etc.) * Salt and pepper to taste * A drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil * Fresh chives (or any fresh herb, really) * Rice cracker rounds (gluten-free!)

Mash up the cheese, salt, pepper and olive oil until well combined. Spread these onto your crackers and top with fresh herbs of choice. Serve with something bubbly. Sofia serves them with — what else — Coppola Sofia Blanc de Blanc.

Summer Grill & Olive Oil Cake for the Soul

I've spent a good deal of my life feeding people. One of my few strengths is to go into the kitchen and, regardless of how constrained I was by finances, cook something delicious to feed my beloved friends.

But in the last little while something funny happened: I lost my appetite.

My mind usually crowded with ideas of what I'll cook next suddenly didn't have room for feasts, large and small. As winter set in, it was crowded with something that ate at me from the inside. It was sudden. And it was voracious.

Let's just say, I've always had that constant, dull gnaw of anxiety with me. Even as a kid, my stomach would churn when Dad's voice hit an angry octave or when I thought about how to "plan my future." But this anxiety was different. It lay so thick on my tongue that nothing tasted good.