Behind the Scenes: Summer
On writing because I haven't been writing.
It’s been five months since we moved into our house and I am still not back in the groove. Because it’s a new house. With no grooves yet. But I miss writing and wanted to write something to share with you. I spent the past five days dog sitting for a colleague turned friend (not just any friend, either: she and I share the same birth date, year and everything – !!). She lives in a beach house 20-ish miles north as the orca swims and the seagull glides.
August 16, 2023. 7:27 p.m. I didn’t know the tide fluctuated this far. When I arrived at about noon, there was 10 feet of beach exposed, maybe 12. At 7:30, there is none, the water two to three feet over marine pebbles with shells and barnacles and round rocks topped with sea moss, fluffy like wigs of astroturf.
This beach is called Naketa; this water, Possession Sound. It is 90 wooden stairs, four poplars, and a railroad track in each direction away from civilization. Its salt clears your nostrils and its waves soothe your brain.
Daisy was waiting for me. Or not me, really. How was she to know I was coming? But she was there on the divan, her butterscotch curls soft against green velvet. Such a sweet face, but she was timid at first. I took my laptop to the bedroom and worked for a while, allowing her space.
I ate with the sea at 7:00, my dinner date moody and blue yet dashing on the other side of the wooden table. A caesar salad of dinosaur kale and homemade dressing made with anchovies and my farm share eggs, laid last week 90 minutes south at the foot of Mount Rainier. The croutons once a beautiful pain au levain from one of my favorite Seattle bakeries. I eschew alcohol most days but drank a Bellini tonight. The last of a bottle I bought to celebrate my friend Andrew’s visit from Australia. Dessert was a donut peach, fuzzy like a baby’s cheek, and a plum the purple of royalty.
A train speeds behind the house every few hours, bringing with it industrial smells like oil and grease and mechanical sounds like clicks and clangs, ratchets and whirs: it doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. As we get older, we’re better able to tune out background noise, I guess, having learned that loud, boisterous things often bring goodness, too. Until it passes again, I’ll linger in front, breathing the pockets of fresh, salty air, deposited at my feet by the waves. Next to Daisy, who has deposited herself there, too.
Tartine’s Kale Caesar Salad
Ingredients
Croutons
Four 1-inch slices day-old country bread, torn into 1-inch pieces
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Salt
Kale Caesar
3 garlic cloves
6 olive oil-packed anchovy fillets
1 tablespoon lemon zest
1 large egg yolk
Salt
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, plus more to taste
1½ cups extra-virgin olive oil
2 heads (about 1 pound) black kale, center stems removed and leaves torn into bite-size pieces
⅔ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Optional Ingredients
½ teaspoon herbes de Provence (optional)
Directions
Make the croutons: Preheat the oven to 400°. In a medium bowl, toss the bread with the olive oil, a pinch of salt and the herbes de Provence, if using. Spread the bread on a baking sheet and bake, turning the croutons midway through, until golden brown and crisp, about 10 minutes.
Make the dressing: Place the garlic, anchovies and lemon zest in a mortar and pound with a pestle to make a thick paste. (Alternatively, pulse them together in a blender.) Add the egg yolk, a pinch of salt and a few drops of the lemon juice and mix thoroughly. While stirring, (or with the blender motor running), add ½ cup of the olive oil, one drop at a time, to create a smooth emulsion. Stir (or blend) in the remaining cup of olive oil in a slow stream. (The dressing will thicken.) Periodically add the remaining lemon juice. When all the oil is incorporated, season the dressing to taste with additional salt and lemon juice. Add water as needed to thin the dressing to desired consistency.
Make the salad: In a large bowl, toss the kale with the croutons. Add the dressing to taste, reserving any extra for another use. Add the Parmesan, toss again and serve immediately.
It is a magical spot where nature is the main act. Porpoises frolicking, pinks leaping off the surface of the water, curious seals taking in all the activities of the dumb bipeds.
Locals confidently hooking fish from narrow peddle boats; expertly using them as a platform from which to haul up their crab pots. And the ceaseless sounds of the waves.