The Way Back
The last time I wrote was nearly 2 years ago. Nina was just branching out from her diet of puréed produce and baby formula. On weekdays, I would work from home with her crawling around under me. On weekends, we would have our single sanctioned outing, to mask up and go pick up our vegetables from the farm.
Our hearts broke when we read the news that 2021 was the last year of the Brooklyn Grange CSA program at the LIC flagship farm. Going there every Saturday morning for the last 7 years to pick up our share was a beloved ritual and this blog, a love letter to it. As soon as the elevator doors would open to the roof, I’d take in the sight of all the rows, sparse and spacious at the beginning of the season and more and more lush as the summer went on, and it would make me smile without fail.
We always made sure to stop by and say hi to the chickens. Nina got to meet them last summer.
These last two years have stripped down so much of what we used to know, what we had, too much to try to recount in a comeback post. I’m ready for the sea change we’ve been feeling lately. We’ve gradually started seeking opportunities to gather around the table with family and friends again and making plans to venture away from home. I’m tentative but hopeful. And more than anything, curious.
In February, Jon and I went to Milkflower in our first neighborhood, Astoria. We met up in front of our apartment (which we still lovingly refer to as The Angelica, after our crazy realtor/landlord) and then we walked to our favorite restaurant, hand in hand, like the old days. Stepping through their doors felt like coming home after years abroad.
Everything was comforting and familiar. The shishito peppers with black pepper aioli. The figs and honeycomb over homemade ricotta. The perfect wood-fired pizza. And the chance to savor it all while sitting across from each other, embracing the time and space for real conversation, just two people in love.
