Not ready to let go

In this glorious little town in which we live, so close to New York City, and still a rural gentleman-horse farm community, there is a farm stand and small nursery called The Country Farmer. Fitting. Were one unaware of the season and the bounty each yields, we would know by the puns forever posted on the front fence of the stand. I know we're seeing the last winks of summer when when the sign "Got your ears on?" appears in reference to the silver queen corn's arrival. And I know the time has come to let go of this glorious season when I see, "Mums the word." As I did this past week. We always say those guys have a million of 'em.

This is also the season of my Mother's birthday. This year, I went to the store and bought an SUV full of kale, asters, and mums in a riot of color and transplanted the entire mass into her planters at four corners of her deck overlooking the hills as her birthday gift. The arrival of these floral denizens of fall can give you a long slow pause while you make one last plea for the ability to turn back the calendar.

But powerless to do anything but make way for the fiery brilliance of our northeastern fall, our family made way for festive good byes and one important hello: Late last Sunday night we welcomed a new nephew. He is a tiny amazing miracle. We have been blessed enough to spend two evenings this week with the newly expanded family and their first child. We also joined them for their fabulous and huge neighborhood block party yesterday which was truly well done with every last detail considered. And finally, we had two opportunities to celebrate our Mother's birthday: Friday evening supper and Labor Day brunch today. It is not an exaggeration to say we have potentially eaten as much and as often as any of our Christmas ski holidays (food fests which last four days occasionally briefly interrupted by shopping or skiing).

While I cannot hope to accurately recount for you the variety of wonderful things we have come across in these last few days, I can tell you about brunch today, for which I was responsible. We truly enjoyed this menu and it proved to be very low maintenance; it was my goal to ease up on the labor intensive food for once and see my family before all the teachers begin school again tomorrow. While I do not normally advocate anything pre-made, these items were top notch and made the last day of summer slide by easily. You can order directly from Legals and have their award winning chowder shipped over night to you for immediate use or to place in your freezer for a party-saving moment.

While I use a recipe of Alton Brown's (link below) for the mussels, recipes for the cocktails and orange glazed cupcakes will be available here at Blushing Hostess this week. Happiest and fireiest of fall seasons to you!

Mussels Moulies and the pot sauces in small cups for each guest.

Labor Day Summer Close Brunch Menu
Serves 8

Tropical Champagne Cocktail

Legals Seafood Clam Chowder and Oyster Crackers

Mussels Moulies
Pomme Frite (aka Ore Ida's new Extra Crispy Fries, delish!)
Garlic Bread

Orange Glazed Butter Cupcakes


The end of champagne cocktail tray and the end of our all-too-short summer of 2008.

Why it matters

Ever wondered why some people are so bent on cleanliness and orderliness? Join me today at Blushing Hostess Homekeeping for Why Clean and Orderly Matters.

When self-proclaimed "gods" fall in the vineyard

Normally, I don't sign in twice in one day to update Blushing Hostess but the recent clamoring of Wine Spectator Magazine to defend itself has me back here shaking my head. A person sent WS the required $250. application fee to be considered for WS's restaurant wine cellar "Award of Excellence", the name and contact information of a fake restaurant in Milan, and its equally as fictional wine list (consisting largely of bottles WS had themselves declared undrinkable). What do you know, the non-existent place received an Award of Excellence. The story is recounted on his website.

Sadly, proving how very not open to criticism and admission of their significant failure they are, WS has posted a response here along with only comments which support WS's defense and not the remarks of any of their stunned and disgruntled subscribers. There is no road for WS to maintain their integrity now (no matter how much crying, utensil banging, and foot stomping they do), nor any hope of openness: the refuse to print any detracting comments about their obvious ability to be bought (and willingness to give their "Award of Excellence" away based on a Google search and an answering machine message which they consider enough of a checking process), nor finally any reason to keep reading them. Their defense is feeble-minded and accusatory when, as a long ago reader who suspected this was the case all along, it should have been a mea culpa and a vow to use the event as a learning experience from which to increase their believability. It would have been great to see WS take the high road, manage a stitch of elegance, or even go silently away. But their response is graceless, ill-concieved, and not worth reading. Wine Spectator has demonstrated only that they are a group of self-aggrandizing petulant four-year-olds from whom the wine glasses should be removed.

Wine is an experience. If you feel no experience is a poor one and all will help you to grow, you might discover you enjoy something the wine gods did not. Read a book like the Wine Bible, then set out on your own to try as many as you can. It will mean more than the recommendation of a bought-off mag with an unparalelled sense of their own importance. Then, you'll be an individual, beholden to no one and nothing. If only Wine Spectator could say the same.

Serving corn on the cob

Questions about how to serve corn on the cob when entertaining? Join me at The Blushing Hostess Entertains blog for The Great Corn Struggle.

Sweet summer

Having retired my equine-related rants for the moment, it is time to move on to the king of summer crops: Sweet corn.

Is it like this with your family? Most of our best summer meals as the years raced by us included sweet corn. These outdoor tables of ours were all over: Charlestown and Newport, Rhode Island. Falmouth and Boston, Massachussetts. Charleston, South Carolina. When we were children, we would sit together for dinner on a picnic table on the front lawn of the summer cottage and eat shellfish or steak and sweet corn. There, on those fair summer evenings in Rhode Island is where I first came to adore farm stands, sweet corn, roadside ice cream joints, and drive-in movie theaters. There was so much joy in those days, maybe because all of the things I have just mentioned to you are without complication and our time there was full of those carefree and blissful landmarks of a child's, and a cook's, memory. And they still have to do with a feeling that transcends childhood: Purity. Easy ice cream and corn filled days. They go by too fast and are difficult to reclaim. As a generation changes hands though, it is time to strip away, if only momentarily, the complexity life can bring. For me, there is nothing like the taste of sweet corn in high summer to remind you to ease up on the acceclerator in my soul.

Now is as good a time as any to begin the road back there for my children. Before we go though, I should admit a failure on my part: As I learned to cook and years took me past those days at the Whetton Cottage, I have become increasingly adept at complicating things than need no muddling, including sweet corn. I do have to pass along a recipe for this grilled corn I love, but I will do it tomorrow or so. Today, I will just tell you how to make sweet corn the way I first came to love it, a thousand years ago, on a front lawn in Charleston, Rhode Island. I hope this takes you back too.

Sweet Corn, Unadulterated

Buy two or three ears of corn per person, depending on the size of the relevant appetites. Remove (shuck) the husks and silk entirely from the ears. Wrap each ear in tin foil and place on a the grill over medium heat. Cook twenty minutes, remove a kernel with a knife and taste to be sure it has softened. Once cooked, remove to a platter or basket and serve in foil, as is. You guests may like salted butter as an accompaniment. But not me, no sir.