A fern for your Friday night fun. After the age of 50, Friday night fun unfurls differently, not unlike the frond of a fern – gently, quietly, beautifully. What calls to me now is deeper, more resonant for the soul, and it has nothing to do with FOMO or being seen or burning oneself into the break of the next day. It also has nothing to do with being online or engaging on social media, so excuse me while I step back into the world outside – the only world that matters.
Happy Friday!
Water collects in the cup of a purple bloom.
The leaves beneath the flower hold water too.
Despite the excessive temps, there is something cooling about these tableaux, the way the sound of running water seems to cool the atmosphere.
Anything to alleviate the heat of the day.
Summer and the stultifying warmth conspire to pause all in their path, and I’m happy to stop if it means some relief.
When it gets to be this hot for this long, the best sort of cooking to do is that which requires no stove or oven or even microwave. Enter the icebox cake. A bit campy, a bit retro, and a whole lotta sugar adds up to a no-bake dessert that tastes like someone worked up a sweat when really it’s all about the assembly and some maneuvering of the stand mixer. When we invited Suzie and her family over for a Sunday dinner, I decided to make another attempt at perfecting this recipe after a questionable version I served to my niece and nephew (the best guinea pigs since Chester and Cookie).
The same concept that forms the base of this Magnolia Bakery Banana Pudding recipe is at work for the icebox cake: a solid cookie is transformed into a soft cake-like consistency after several hours mingling with a pudding/cream concoction. This time around, I used a recipe for Biscoff cookies and Biscoff butter, which I ended up modifying because I wasn’t happy with an initial test run. (I replaced the cream cheese with mascarpone, and used homemade whipped cream rather than a store bought ‘whipped topping’ – both changes made for a vast improvement, as did some additional ‘soak’ time, which took away the crunchy edge that some of the cookies retained with just a few hours in the fridge.) If you need a solid summer dessert and don’t want to heat up the kitchen, try this one out.
(Upon further contemplation, I may save this one for the fall and holiday season, as the spicy ginger flavors of the Biscoff elements align better with the cozy comforts of that time.)
INGREDIENTS
2 8.8 oz packages Biscoff cookies
13.4 oz jar Biscoff cookie butter
5.1 oz box instant vanilla pudding mix
3 cups of 2% milk
½ cup butter, softened
8 oz cream cheese, softened (I used 8 oz of mascarpone and this was so much better)
1 cup powdered sugar divided into two halves
3 cups heavy or whipping cream
METHOD
In a large bowl, add vanilla pudding mix and whisk in milk until combined. Put in fridge to set (can do the night before).
In another bowl, beat together butter, cream cheese or mascarpone, and ½ cup powdered sugar until combined – about 2 minutes.
In stand mixer, whip heavy cream and ½ cup powdered sugar until desired whopped cream consistency.
Blend vanilla pudding mix with mascarpone mix, then fold in whipped cream mix until well incorporated.
Drop 1/3 of pudding/cream mix into 9 x 13 casserole dish, then add one layer of Biscoff cookies in bottom of casserole dish in single layer.
Spoon cookie butter into a microwaveable glass measuring cup, heat in 20 second intervals until melted, stirring as you go. Drizzle 1/3 cookie butter over cookies.
Add another 1/3 of pudding/cream mix on top of cookie, then repeat layer of cookies and drizzle another 1/3 cookie butter over them, and add last 1/3 of whipped mix. Drizzle with remaining cookie butter and sprinkle with crushed Biscoff cookies as desired.
Refrigerate at least overnight to ensure a soft consistency.
“Even so, there were times I saw freshness and beauty. I could smell the air, and I really loved rock ‘n’ roll. Tears were warm, and girls were beautiful, like dreams. I liked movie theaters, the darkness and intimacy, and I liked the deep, sad summer nights.” – Haruki Murakami
I’m a bitch when it’s hot, because I’m a bitch when it’s not. That said, this summer the heat hasn’t gotten to me as badly as it has in years past, which is strange because we’ve been much hotter than recent summers have been. Chalk it up to the proximity of a pool and air conditioning, and the fact that I’ve largely avoided walking at midday when at the office or visiting Boston or New York in such a heat index. To that end, it’s been a rather enjoyable season thus far, and my lack of complaining is either growth or evolution or the lackadaisical summation of simply learning not to care (or realizing that there is no point to my caring). There’s something that approaches melancholy in all of that, in summer itself, as gleaned from the opening quote. It’s as if the sun, with its relentless cheeriness and charm, illuminates fully all that is otherwise lacking, all that is otherwise wrong, amid the perfect idyllic days: the conundrum of summer, which nobody dares to criticize lest we frighten it away.
Rather than indulge in the melancholy, or fight it outright, I’m finding a quiet sort of middle ground, one where I lean into the feelings while staying afloat and distracting myself with the fun. It mostly seems to be working. From the pool, I watch a red squirrel scurry across the top of the wooden fence, its clicks and clacks a warning or a mating cry or some other exclamation I cannot translate. A hummingbird hovers beside a pot of salvia, its tongue moving deeply into the tubular blooms that few others can so easily reach. Life reveals itself in multitudes when you stop and sit still long enough to receive it.
When the sun goes down, and the light reluctantly drains from the sky, the summer night begins…
“The summer night is like a perfection of thought.” – Wallace Stevens
When a summer day is full, sleep comes quickly and easily.
If it fills your mind with the present moment – the sun, the heat, the flowers, the books, the pool, the garden, the grilled dinner, the first cherry tomatoes just starting to ripen and the thrill of popping one into your mouth directly off the vine – then the day has proven worthwhile.
I’ve had the luck and luxury of having some pretty full days of late – not with any grand adventures or big events, but the simple summer living that the season affords. It’s the best way of dealing with overthinking and overanalyzing – which Virgos such as myself are prone to do to our great detriment. Finding solace in being mindful and present instead of living in my head has proven a boon to my mental health. Summer makes that easier.
After working out and meditating and just making it through a recent day, I slipped into the pool, not bothering with a swimsuit, just pulling off my shorts and wading in with this old pair of underwear that wouldn’t mind getting a bit bleached. Swimming from the shallow end to the deep, I breathe in the scents of evening.
The spicy sweetness of phlox hangs in the air near the deep end. Nearby, the smell of damp earth fresh from being watered reminds me of some almost-fetid greenhouse dripping with its own condensation – plants sometimes have a way of sweating too, transpiration to our perspiration.
Even this late in the day, the sky is a sickly hazy yellowish gray color – still lit from the sun’s rays slicing through the smoke in the air from the Canadian fires – seemingly an annual summer event in a world that burns itself out a bit more with each passing day. I dive underwater to get away from it all, because I cannot afford to think about this world like that too much – humans being so problematic, and so disappointing.
I did what we’re never supposed to do: I looked right up at the sun because it was obscured by the hazy smoke drifting down from the Canadian wildfires. It looked eerily like the moon when clouds pass mysteriously in front of it, only this was the mighty sun, probably damaging my retinas in my foolish act of defiance.
It’s been a week of recklessness, as Mercury continues in its messy retrograde motion and a new moon prowls the sky invisibly. Astrologically, this is said to be a shit show, especially for a Virgo, and I’m definitely in the difficult feels about practically everything. (Forewarned is fair warned: stop fucking with me.)
Things are also said to bring great relief when this retrograde ends around July 23rd. That’s always been a good date for me, so I’ll be laying low and doing my best to keep quiet until then. (This would not be a good time to bet on that happening however, so apologies in advance for all that I’m about to say or do. Again, stop fucking with me.)
Like the yolk of an egg, the central whorls of this daisy ring out in bright, cheerful yellow – a reflection of the summer sun from the ground below. These daisies have been in the garden for several years, coming back pretty robustly with some regular watering and feeding. This first flush of flowers is the biggest and best of the entire season, though they will sporadically throw out additional blooms in a smaller, secondary blooming.
Shadowed by a large seven sons’ flower tree, the flowers in this light always look dramatic in this small section of the garden near the pool.
Daisies are favorites of a couple of my friends – JoAnn and Suzie especially – so I’ll usually send them a few photos if they’re not here to see them in person. This is one way flowers bring people together.
This is summer in full bloom.
Chef, Emmy-nominated television host, and entrepreneur Edward Delling-Williams wears many hats, and all of them quite jauntily. His ‘Paris Bistro Cooking’ show on Recipe TV is what drew me into his charming world, and his ‘Taste of London’ programs have me itching to get back to that enchanted city sooner rather than later. He earns this Dazzler of the Day thanks to a storied career and continued inspiration for finding and making all that tastes good in this world. Check out his website here for further evidence of his brilliance.
The oregano got away from me this year, bolting a bit too quickly into flower before I had a chance to pounce it back. Not as disastrous as if I’d let the basil follow-suit, but less than ideal when we want foliage over flowers. Attempting to turn lemons into lemonade, I hastily harvested the flower heads as soon as I realized what was happening and turned them into an elegant centerpiece for a summer dinner.
They make for a more refined appearance and tidier filler than that awful baby’s breath that florists still seem to use (who in hell wants the breath of baby anywhere near a beautiful bouquet?) This happy accident made for a bouquet unto itself, which is how summer should be – easy and elegant and simple.
For a dinner table display, there is enough interest in the whorls of each individual bud to entice a closer inspection, so when all else fails you have one more thing to discuss. My guests are always infinitely more interesting than having to resort to such tactics but for those of you seeking out topics, go for the oregano bloom.
Our Solid Gold Summer required a sleazy, cheesy, retro, and slightly raunchily-monikered mocktail for summer drinking purposes, and that comes in the super simple concoction I’ve christened ‘The Golden Shower‘. It is one of the easiest drinks to create, rooted in a simple can of orange soda, made slightly elevated and punchy with the fresh juice of one lime. I supposed if you wanted something boozier, you could add any number of liquors to this without compromising the simplicity – vodka, tequila, rum, possibly even gin. It’s been so long since I’ve had any interest or taste for spirits, I’ve forgotten what might work well, but if you drink have at it. For me, the following is more than enough for a refreshing summer drink.
The Golden Shower
Being charismatic, charming, gregarious and engaging are just the minor magics of Patrick ‘Patch’ Hyde, whose greatest skill, in my hungry opinion, is his wondrous way with fudge-making – a practice he’s been working on and perfecting since the age of sixteen. In July of 2018, he opened up his first store, ‘The Fudge Patch‘ and he currently has two locations – Greenwich Market and Brighton. Cunningly making use of hemp milk instead of dairy, The Fudge Patch offers vegan and gluten-free fudge made the old-fashioned way. As the man leading the fudge charge in London, Patch earns his first Dazzler of the Day, because my heart belongs to anyone who has a knack with a sweet treat. Check out ‘The Fudge Patch’ online here.
When summer is on there is no more luscious time of the year. On the hottest days, it’s best to make a garden perusal first thing in the morning, before the real heat kicks in, when things are still fresh and unwilted (before the hydrangeas get all dramatically histrionic). The garden smells fresher then, the flowers feel more tender, the foliage is somehow brighter. Maybe it’s all in my head, but mental games feed into reality whether we want or realize it. Here it seems harmless enough to start a summer’s day. Come with me as we make a visual tour and I put a stop to my extraneous verbiage for the moment…
Topping the Billboard charts in the US, UK and several others countries, Madonna earns her 10th number one album with ‘Confessions II’ – which at the age of 67 and over four decades into a historical career has added another record to her collection. That makes her the only female American singer to have #1 albums in the 80’s, 90’s, 00’s, 10’s and now 20’s. Five fucking decades – half a century. For all the naysayers who have been demanding her retirement, this sort of success and, yes, relevance, is a brutal and gratifying reality check. Say what you will about Madonna, you’re still talking about her, she’s still singing and selling albums, and one of you is not coming off well in this equation.
‘Confessions II’ is a remarkable album, one worth all the accolades, and it’s been on repeat in my house and car and shower. Thus far I’m a huge fan of ‘L.E.S. Girl’, ‘Danceteria’, ‘Bizarre’, ‘Fragile’, ‘Love Without Words’ and ‘Everything’. The other tracks are stellar, and there’s not one skip in the bunch. To feel the same vitality I once felt in music like ‘Material Girl’, ‘Like A Prayer‘, ‘Vogue‘, ‘Ray of Light‘, ‘Music‘, ‘Sorry‘, ‘4 Minutes‘, ‘Celebration‘, ‘I’m Addicted‘ and ‘Rebel Heart’ is a somewhat unexpected pleasure.
This has a bit of a personal spin to it, the way Madonna often seems to supply meaning at pivotal times in life. For the past couple of years, I’d started to write off the thrill and excitement and connection I once felt to music as a thing of youth, something that could no longer quite inspire me as it once did. Leave it to Madonna to prove that premature and somewhat silly; to think that I’d almost given up on experiencing such passion is a lesson that life doesn’t end at 40 or 50 or 67 – and shame on me for falling into those ageist beliefs. ‘Confessions II’ has reignited the creative spark, and I already feel the fire burning from within again. Let’s see where this musical era takes us…
Sunny Mondays in summer hit differently. Their intrinsically depressing nature is blunted by the power of the season, a reminder that nature is what will always matter in the end. Mondays are a human construct. Summer is invincible. Here is our weekly blog recap…
Woodstock kicked the last week off in whimsical fashion.
Weather whiplash is a requisite part of summer these days.
Maple and bamboo light in the attic at night.
Triggering summer scents carried by the breeze.
Rainy abstract, taking out the night.
A summer holiday with the twins marks the passing of precious time.
Scarlet bee draw brings all the bees to the yard.
New spectacles, old jockstrap.
A feast for the hummingbirds in a brilliantly-colored salvia.
Embodying golden splendor in mesh netting.
Solid gold summer realizations come when they want to come.
Out pooling for the day: Do Not Disturb.
A golden summer night makes the journey home.
Soleil summer hallucinations backed by a driving beat and a hazy heat.
Golden 80’s glory days for those of us getting old.
Dazzlers of the Day included Mark Harkenrider, Meg Stalter, Evan Mulrooney, and Erling Haaland.
The summer days of my childhood were spent largely outside, swimming and biking and running around the neighborhood. My brother and I would be out of the house by 8 or 9 in the morning and not return until an early dinner time. Then we’d be back out again until the light just started to fade and June bugs swarmed the tops of all the trees. (Both usually drove me home before a shout from my parents.)
Back then we’d just go around to our friend’s houses, using the pool if they had one, or rustling up mischief in their overheated garages or cool and quiet basements. I don’t really recall what exactly we did – which probably meant it was mostly nothing. Kids could entertain themselves back then, without a television or computer or cel phone, and we would become better for it. We learned how to sit still with nothing to do. We learned how to entertain ourselves with nothing around but a bike or a garage of rubbish. We could create endless pool games that were so stupid and fun that the adults had to drag us out to eat lunch or we would have stayed in until our pruny fingers were malnourished. Like most adults, I remember those summer days as filled with glory – and in the 80’s it was literally true.
We pause in this retro summer of Solid Gold 70’s tunes to advance a bit into the 80’s with a Bruce Springsteen classic from his epic ‘Born in the U.S.A.’ album. To come of age at such a time meant Bruce, Michael, Prince and Madonna formed the phenomenal soundtrack to our formative years – and the music you have when you’re growing up is the music that shapes your personhood. Those of us who were children in the 80’s have a very distinctive musical DNA – once removed from disco, twice removed from classic rock, and gorgeously afflicted with the synth pop confections that would only last if they came with a melody. Springsteen’s ‘Glory Days’ gave us a rock classic that the whole country embraced, and it rang with a built-in nostalgia that its lyrics so beautifully belied.
“I HOPE WHEN I GET OLD, I DON’T SIT AROUND THINKING ABOUT IT, BUT I PROBABLY WILL…”
