On Friday evening, after a trip upstate to do yoga with my friend Julie, I found myself roaming the streets of Astoria with a Dunkin’ Donuts hot cocoa in search of broccolini. Weird, right? My days of roaming the streets on Friday nights, and stumbling into bars, is a long gone memory of the past. Now I wear sweat pants or wide leg jeans, leggings and a sweatshirt if I want to feel “sexy” and troll for fresh produce. I’d like to think of this as a sign of maturity, although it feels more like a sign of giving up or a resoundingly loud and cotton clad resignation to being 44, low estrogen and single.
Read MoreSomehow, at the end of every summer, I end up with an ABUNDANCE of zucchinis in the house. In the month of August, zucchinis are plentiful and inexpensive, hence the attractiveness of overbuying. Sure, I might not be buying much clothing or home goods any more, but somehow overbuying something is still in the addiction cards. I guess it could be worse than zucchini. The seniors in the house love zucchini, but I wanted to do more than pan fry, roast or grill it to serve it as a side or over pasta.
Read MoreDuring the summer of ‘88 my grandma made my dream come true. She finally caved at the repeated request (can’t we have a pool? why can’t we have a pool? there’s so much space in the yard for a pool?) and somehow managed to convince my grandfather that it was a good idea. We had one of the biggest yards on the block, so much of it was going to waste - you know, like the huge garden we kept, rose bushes, grape vines, the cherry tree. Get rid of that garbage, we could have a pool! I was chubby, but man was I stoked at the thought of cannon balls
Read MorePickling eggplant, preserving tomatoes and sun-drying zucchini were signs that summer was coming to a close in the Corrado household. Late August through early September my family was purchasing and preserving fresh vegetables in an effort to stock up for cooler weather months. Even in October, my grandmother’s sandwiches held on to summer. And since I wish to do the same as my grandmother, I went wacky with the pickling in memory of her. No your sandwiches can taste like summer all year long too.
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