The temperature in suburban, seaside New Jersey has climbed to exactly rosé degrees Fahrenheit, which is just a few degrees warmer than springtime Chardonnay and a full 360 from musing autumn Cabernet. Summertime near the shore means one thing: Everyone is grabbing for a glass of that chilled, light, millennial pink wine and toasting “cheers” as early as 11 a.m. on a Friday. But what is it, really, about the wine that’s so attractive when mid-June hits and you’re near the ocean?
The facts are simple: Pinterest and millennials love charcuterie boards. Why? Perhaps it’s the indulgent amount of dairy, her oh-so-Instagram-worthy nature, her timeless place on the Italian table or the practically perfect romance the charcuterie board shares with wine.
Summertime, or springtime if you’re in New York, is two parts sweaty subway fumes and one part after-work cocktails. On every street corner, in every inch of the city, five o’clock hits and the bar scene crawls with young professionals, having switched out of their work shoes, in pursuit of the best happy hour around.
It’s ironic, considering I constantly write about the culinary foundation I grew up on, that I actually haven’t lived at home in two years. The seed for my foodie tendencies was planted in a small town on the Jersey Shore and in New York City before I even learned my first words. Coming home means so many things for me, but ultimately, I grew up around an Italian table — a place where anyone is welcome and you’re guaranteed to be overserved.
Narrated by Hamilton’s mortal enemy, Aaron Burr, the musical does a nice job of splitting stage time between Burr and Hamilton; the audience sees the light and the darkness in both leading men. But I beg to ask the question — where are all the women?
Paola Uccelliera, a tough wine maker, leaned in to me as I enjoyed a tasting at Uccelliera and said, “It’s a bit of a mess, no? But that is okay. Verona is the reason this works. Verona forgives everything.”
I constantly remind myself that while food is sustenance and fuel, it's also much more. Food is the memories I have of my grandmother in the kitchen, kneading dough and singing something I no longer remember the words to.
d’Avila set out to reinvent what we think of when we think “Elle Woods” and her connection to modern, third wave feminism.
Her first priority is never and would never be herself. Perhaps this is a part of motherhood, or perhaps this is just part of her.
Maybe the lesson I learned about the name we give fried potatoes was about more than just potatoes.