We slipped out for lunch yesterday, had ourselves patty melts at the local luncheonette, and talked about our Thanksgiving plans this year. The wet moody weather and the turning leaves turned us on. We discussed the merits of roasted vs rotisserie turkey, Brussels sprouts or string beans, sweet potatoes or/and mashed potatoes… Guess today’s lunch was subconsciously inspired by yesterday’s conversation. We roasted chicken wings, Brussels sprouts, and fingerling potatoes, and talked about Henry the studio dog (who, sadly, didn’t come to the studio today)—and how much we missed him. He’s definitely invited to Thanksgiving. We work everyday together and collaborate on all, but even so, we both love eating lunch together and talking—about our families, our plans, crazy things that happened. Invite a friend to lunch, dear friends, and linger a little longer at the table, the work will still be there when you get back—unfortunately.
A lazy Monday lunch on a busy day, but it sure caught the vibe—windows open, ceiling fan whirling, autumn light but summer warmth. We sliced a tomato, split an avocado, chopped two scallions, and divvied up the last of the Boursin. Every tomato we eat now feel like stolen riches, all too soon gone. Savor every moment of everything.
We bought a pile of corn to cut off the cob and squirrel away in the freezer for winter. We boiled the cobs and they yielded a delicate, sweet corny broth. Inspired, we decided to make succotash soup—limas, corn, green and yellow beans, and potato—enriched with a splash of half-and-half and an intense parsley butter. Head out to the farmers’ markets this weekend for the last of summer’s bounty. Cook something delicious for yourselves, dear friends.
When you buy a whole duck and carve off the legs (as we did for lunch on Monday), you’re left with two choice parts—the breast and liver. So it’s duck for lunch again today. We seasoned the breast with salt and pepper and slowly browned it, skin side down, then turned it over, and finished cooking it until it was just rosy pink inside. The liver got the same treatment. A big escarole salad with scallions and a mustardy vinaigrette seemed a good fit. And so it was, with crisp cubes of pancetta. One of us likes duck liver, the other not so much. So extra pancetta went to the one who didn’t get the liver. We always try to be fair with each other.
We headed to the farm market early this morning to grab the last of the sweet corn, but the farmer was still out in the field picking. But the substitutions that we roasted for lunch—fat gnarly carrots (sweet as candy), dainty beets (that taste like delicious dirt), and calabaza squash (as rich as a filet minion) were better than corn. Must be the season.
After yesterday’s deliciously indulgent lunch of roasted duck legs and beans, today we are eating on the lighter side—a salad of escarole, avocado, tomatoes, scallions, and crisp bacon on a smear of Boursin cheese with a drizzle of good olive oil and a few drops of balsamic vinegar. Salt and pepper, of course! (Full disclosure, we each ate a big bowl of leftover beans for breakfast.)
Back in the studio after a week-plus of driving and eating our way through the ravishing English countryside—Lancashire, Cheshire, Wales, Shropshire, Worcester, Gloucester, Somerset, Devon and Dorset—then on to London. This morning, the first day of autumn, was a chilly one, so it only seemed right that we start the season off right with roast duck legs, great northern beans cooked in rich chicken stock with lots of thyme, and toasted breadcrumbs. We ate very very well on our trip, but our own food tastes mighty fine to us. Glad to be back with you, dear friends.
The tomatoes are piling up. We’ve: cut them into wedges; sliced them; eaten them out of hand; layered them into BLT’s; anointed them with olive oil and vinaigrette; slathered them with mayo (our signature move); and whirled them into gazpacho. So today, we stuffed them with ground lamb, sautéed chopped onions and garlic, parsley, mint, and a squirt of harissa, then sprinkled breadcrumbs on top. They are so mouth-watering we’ll keep stuffing them—with different fillings—till there are no more on the vines.