Hello Reader,
I love brunch.
In my twenties it was all about waiting in line on a Sunday afternoon (because that’s one of my favorite things about brunch -it’s breakfast but at lunch time). Standing out on the sidewalk with friends and lovers while the hostess handed out coffee in thick mugs and I plotted my meal order in my head (biscuits and gravy? Eggs benny? Two eggs over medium with sausage patties and rye toast?). Then we ate, laughing and drinking, and we didn’t take a single picture or receive a text because that wasn’t even a thing yet- we just were.
Now, in the autumn of the year (and let’s face it, probably my life too) brunch usually happens at home. This is both a symptom of age and geography. Plus, all those middle years when I spent brunch being the hostess or the server handing out that coffee, I learned a lot about the kitchen side and the bar side so if I crave it - I can make it.
This week I took pictures.
I’ve got apples, like some get zucchini in summer, we attract apples in autumn.
Foraged, found, bought from the store or a farm stand- I’ve cut and frozen the tartest and those threatening to rot for thanksgiving pies, and I’ve taken a gallon of apple cider and turned it into two cups of boiled apple cider . While most will be used for amping up the apple in pie I’ll probably also add some to a caramel sauce to go with one of those pies and then, because I’ve got nothing better to do except try to figure out a way that pictures of food can help save democracy, I made some drinks. One cock and one mock (actually i made three cock…tails but we are only going to do one at a time here.
I hope this email finds you safe and well.
See you next week! (This time I mean it!)
Melinda
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