Back to earth, quite literally. I spent 5 hours weeding yesterday. Before we left for Venice, I had noticed a new kind of weed proliferating throughout the garden. I ignored these slim stalks for a few days and they took advantage by inviting all their kinfolk to the party. By the time we returned from our trip, the whole enormous crop of them had dried up, turning most of our beds into brittle, grassy fields. The kicker? When you pull them up, they literally spit their seeds into your face, showering them everywhere. So we are assured of a nice big crop next year. Mother Nature sure is clever. On the flip side, she has rewarded us with so many other signs of gloriously burgeoning life. The chipmunks are back, fat and sassy, chasing each other around the yard. Woodpeckers syncopate the goings-on. The cherry tree and the lilacs are in bloom, and their sultry perfume never fails to remind me that life is sweet.

so cherry

In the 7 years that we have had our little house in the woods, this wild black cherry tree has gone from being sickly and bedraggled to full and bountiful. I have no explanation other than that we cut off a few diseased-looking branches. Maybe that was enough to bring it back to life. Good to know.

trillium delirium

The trillium are still going strong, though this one is the finest specimen. The mottled green of the leaves is my favorite part.

jack in the pulpit

The jack-in-the-pulpit I planted from seed in October are up, gracing the shaded areas of the garden along with ferns, trillium and wild ginger.

hickory pod

I was fascinated to learn this year that hickory trees form beautiful pods that look almost like incipient magnolia blooms, that then open to reveal clusters of new leaves.

worthy of van gogh

This is the first of my bearded irises to open. They are truly works of art. If you’d like to plant some this coming fall, start fantasizing here.

scallion headdress

G allowed a crop of scallions to overwinter and they have all put out these big fluffy flowers. The bees are going to town on them. I cut a few and dropped them into some chicken soup the other day and they were delicious, soft and imbued with a faint onion flavor.

red honeysuckle

I heard the distinctive thrumming sound that marks the arrival of the hummingbirds. They come to us for this red honeysuckle that has gone crazy, climbing beyond its wicker frame and reaching for the sky.

rhubarbarella

The rhubarb is showing off, throwing up big ruffled blooms as if to call attention to the bounty of stalks below. It’s about time I made some syrup or something.

how green is my valley

A trip over to our property in Forestburgh was richly rewarded with the discovery of a large, flourishing patch of lilies-of-the-valley! This is tantamount to finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I danced around like a lunatic and had visions of myself as on old crone, filling my lake house with vases stuffed full of these insanely fragrant blooms and feeling young again. Next to Moroccan orange blossom, this may be my favorite floral scent of all time.

fungus among us

I also found this pair of buttery collybia under some pine trees on our land. They are edible, but the buttery part actually refers to the slightly slimy texture of their caps. Because these were the first of this kind I had encountered, I did a spore print as part of my identification process.

CSI mushroom

The color of spores can be an important confirmation of a mushroom’s identity. All you do is remove the stalk and place the mushroom gill-side down on a piece of sturdy white paper; it’s actually a good idea to use both black and white paper, as pale spores will be more distinguishable against a darker shade. Then you cover it with a glass and leave overnight. Unless the mushroom is very old, it will release its spores onto the paper. The pinkish-buff color confirmed that these were collybias.

a good long soak

For last week’s meeting of the Delaware Highlands Mushroom Society, I got inspired to bring along a mushroom snack, using some of the many black trumpets, yellow-foot chanterelles and maitakes I had dried last fall. This is a great pantry snack you can make with any dried mushrooms you might have on hand. I also mixed in a few fresh shiitakes I had on hand. The first step, of course, is to soak the dried mushrooms in boiling or very, very hot water for at least 30 minutes. You want to give them a chance to really get soft.

it’s about thyme

Mushrooms go well with thyme, and I was able to find a patch of lemon thyme that is already coming in nicely in the garden. Pick the leaves off while your mushrooms are soaking.

a toast to you

May I clarify something here? Bruschetta is pronounced with a hard c, not a sh sound. The word is from bruscare, Roman for “to roast over coals,” and refers to the bread, not the topping. Done right it should be well-toasted or grilled and then rubbed with a cut clove of garlic. After that, it can be topped with virtually anything, from chicken livers to honey-drizzled ricotta.

mushroom cloud

Definitely save the soaking liquid after you’ve strained it through a very fine mesh. As I cooked my mushrooms, I reduced this liquid to a thick syrup and added it to the final dish. It has a deep, rich color and a flavor to match. I spread a slick of lovage pesto on my bruschetta and topped it with a tangle of chewy mushrooms. Served at room temperature, this made a hearty, immensely satisfying snack.

Venice was perfection. I’m so excited to tell you all about it, but I’m still organizing photos and sifting through my impressions. Please check back next week to read about the restaurants, the markets, the parties and the romance of one of the world’s most glorious cities. We returned home to a word in full flower. I had been hoping to see some black locust trees in bloom this year, as I have read about the wonderfully fragrant edible flowers, and suddenly there they were by the dozens as we drove through Paramus, New Jersey, en route from the airport. Serendipity!

similar to a sweet pea

Equipped with the pair of garden shears I keep in the car for just such encounters, I gathered armfuls of branches festooned with flowers and swooned at their delicate perfume, akin to the sweet scent of orange blossoms. Robinia pseudoacacia is a tree related to the pea family, believe it or not and, as with other leguminous plants, its leaves fold together in wet weather and at night. It’s a native species with dark, deeply furrowed bark and wood prized for being extremely hard. You’ll often see it planted alongside streets and in parks, especially in large cities, because it tolerates pollution well. The long clusters of white blossoms hang down, sort of reminiscent of wisteria. The flowers are pea-like and creamy with a yellow spot on the upper petal. If this spot is bright yellow, the flowers are good to eat; if it is dull or faded, they are too old. Eaten raw, they taste a bit like pea shoots. They can be tossed with cream for a decadent pasta sauce or divine ice cream, or folded into a sweet batter and fried for the most ethereal fritter ever.

nectar of the gods

Since I am on a post-Venice juice fast, I decided to forego all of the above and use my blossoms in a light elixir made with lemon juice, water and a little orange blossom honey. It’s spring in a glass.

why don’t they call it pinkbud?

The Eastern redbud outside our kitchen window is an early bloomer. The petals fall down and create a rosy carpet that looks like something out of a fairytale.

this bud’s for you

Someone told me that the flowers make good eating when they are fresh and full of nectar. I imagine this is what the wood sprites subsist on.

the color of liz taylor’s eyes

Or maybe they’re eating these tender beauties. I must have spent an hour collecting this bowlful of wild violets in a nearby field. They are as soft as a baby’s eyelids.

flower power

Candied violets were a popular delicacy during Victorian times. They’re also delicious fresh, tossed into a salad or garnishing a panna cotta.

sweet surrender

I made a syrup with my violets, steeping the flowers overnight and then mixing the strained liquid with simple syrup and a splash of lemon juice. The color is lovely and there’s a floral hint, but I think any heat really masks their delicate aroma and flavor (though Winnie seems to have had good luck making violet jelly). If you’ve never eaten flowers, I suggest this be the year you nibble on some rose petals, toss a couple of dandelions in your salad, make nasturtium butter or at least slurp a little sweet nectar.

I still haven’t found any ramps, but it has begun to rain at long last and this is a promising sign for foragers. The forecast includes some nights in the 20s this week, though, and with everything in full bud, I fear for some of the less hardy plants. It was a strange winter and is shaping up to be a very strange spring indeed. Still, for some people it’s ramp business as usual, as you can see by the bunches I brought home from the local farmers market. Here are some ideas for how to use them if you, too, have access. Green garlic or slim scallions would also work with these recipes.

rooting around

As more than one person has pointed out lately, ramps—like all wild edibles—must be harvested responsibly. They have that wonderful wild taste that Euell Gibbons talked about, not quite like anything else, and people have gone so nuts for the whole locavore thing, that there has been a lot of pillaging and plundering of ramp patches from here to West Virginia. We’ve actually planted a bunch in a wet corner of our backyard, so we’ll see what happens there…

clean start

You can roast or grill whole ramps to great effect, but you can also separate the bulbs from the greens and use them in different ways. Like other alliums, they have a sheer, sometimes slimy membrane that needs to be removed along with the root end.

put up or shut up

I love to pickle ramps. You can pour hot brine over raw ramps, if they’re slimmer than your pinkie; otherwise you should probably blanch them first. Here is my recipe.

what’s brine is yours

Pickled ramps are delicious with cheese, grilled meats and roast chicken, on sandwiches and in martinis. They brine is also excellent mixed with seltzer or cocktails, or instead of vinegar in salad dressings.

ends zone

The greens are quite good sauteed in olive oil and butter, mixed into a frittata or mashed potatoes. They can also be blanched and pureed into a soup, or mixed with butter as I did.

butter up

This surprisingly mild ramp butter was the perfect dip for peppery French breakfast radishes. I also stirred a little into soft-scrambled eggs, and slathered some on roasted fish.

green construction

With the rest of the ramp greens, I decided to try replicating a delicious preparation I had recently at the beautiful Japanese restaurant in Manhattan, En Brasserie. They served a fat stack of room-temperature, cooked ramped greens topped with tender ramp bulbs, in a pool of what I determined to be warijoyu, a combination of dashi, soy sauce and mirin that is traditionally served with steamed vegetables. What’s amazing is how silky the ramp greens become when poached. It was a bit of work to stack them up like this, but worth it for the presentation and the satisfaction of getting a nice compact mouthful.

en-ticing

I served the ramp greens with scallops also poached in the warijoyu, a drizzle of wasabi-spiked mayonnaise and a sprinkling of sansho pepper. Light and quietly rampageous.

Is it really Friday again? I’ve been up to my ears in work and trying to get on top of things before we leave for our trip to Venice. We’re going for the black-tie 50th birthday celebration of a dear friend, and have rented a charming little garden apartment in Dorsoduro for the first week of May. To say I’m looking forward to the time away would be the understatement of the century. But I’m also praying for rain at home (it’s been bone-dry here) and hotly anticipating a summer of gardening and foraging (more on the latter next week), both of which are off to a pretty good start. I want to share with you a few of the early beauties that announce spring, as well as a bunch of links I’ve been saving up for things to eat, do, ponder and buy.

petal pusher

At first I though this was some sort of wood violet, but I can’t find it in any wildflower guide, so now I wonder if a gardener of bygone days didn’t plant this delicate specimen. Anyone know what it is?

thrillium, trillium

I planted a couple of these beautiful trillium last year and they have reappeared much to my delight! Most of these plants, including the muscari up top, are in our backyard which is shaded by a huge pine. It’s dark and damp back there, so these woods-loving plants are at home.

sweet little ladies

These are bluets, also known as Quaker Ladies, and they have sprung up along sunny paths throughout the garden.

wild thing

I planted this wild ginger a few years ago and had given up hope when I saw it making a rather vigorous comeback under a small dogwood. I will be on the lookout for its understated but very beautiful red flowers.

false friend

This is a false morel, a poisonous trickster to be avoided in the kitchen. By the time I saw it, disguised amongst the leaf litter, the slugs had gone to town.

I hope you are all enjoying your own season of renewal, and feeling that sense of optimism and excitement that comes with casting off your woolens and turning your face to the sun.

Got violets of your own? Consider this lovely jelly.

Loaded down with Meyer lemons? (A delicious fate!) 100 ways to use them up, here.

Isn’t this the perfect summer tote? Actually, I think it’s one of these. (And I’m obsessed with my leather zip pouch from here, too.)

More ceramics porn. I recently bought a couple of these pieces and I am in love.

This lime pickle looks divine.

The latest eye-opening condiments, here and here.

A very fun video (just wish it wasn’t promoting a “light spread”)

Some lovely stationery, discovered in this week’s New York magazine article on all things artisanal in Brooklyn.

I also ordered some of this for my hirsute honey.

A cooking blog with a very fresh format, here.

You know I’m a longtime fan of Askinosie Chocolate, but I only recently discovered their extraordinary new (and already award-winning) CollaBARations. Licorice and chocolate? Yum.

Tired of getting junk mail? Do something about it here, and with this app.

Maybe you’d like to breathe some new life into a tired old chair or sofa with this convenient service.

Want to eat less meat? This guy has figured out a pretty great way.

And for sheer inspiration, watch this.

Have a wonderful weekend! xo

We’ve scarcely had any rain up here in the hinterlands. I’ve even considered doing some sort of little dance in an effort to placate the gods. A winter without snow means no melts to form the vernal pools where frogs and salamanders spawn, and it can also lead to precious few mushrooms. (And this was to be my year of tracking down morels!) But driving home late the other night, we came across a yearly event that would seem to indicate that things are mostly proceeding according to plan: smashed frogs on the road. Yes, every year they make the trek from the ponds behind our house to the ones across the way. I know not why as it seems like a dangerous endeavor. A good number give up their precious lives along the journey to greener pastures. Out in the woods, we found other signs of spring, too.

love, stinks

These gorgeous trillium—trillium erectum, to be precise—nodded at us from the forest floor. They are also known as Stinking Benjamin because the blood-red blooms give off a fetid odor that attracts the flies responsible for pollinating this deceptively dainty plant.

free lunch (well, almost)

After a day tromping trough the woods (and my friend Michael’s property), I was able to rustle up quite a refined little dish of fusilli with Japanese knotweed cream sauce and a swirl of wild garlic pesto.

wild bunches

Although similar to ramps—which are sometimes mistakenly referred to as “wild garlic,” or correctly referred to as “wild leeks”—you’ll notice that the greens on this wild garlic are decidedly thinner and more wispy than those of ramps. Paradoxically, wild garlic also seems to be a bit milder in odor if not in flavor than its allium cousin.

allium vineale

This plant was actually difficult for me to positively identify, as there is also something called “wild onion,” allium canadense, that looks quite a bit like it. If anyone can corroborate, please do so.

not for vampires

Thinking they might be incredibly potent, I blanched a medium handful of cleaned stalks (roots and tips trimmed), then pureed them with a tablespoon or so of pine nuts, some good olive and a little parmesan. The taste was out of this world—not pungent at all, so I’m not even sure if the blanching was necessary. And what a beautifully vivid green, no?

knotweed is/is not a weed

As we walked along the brook, I noticed the first shoots of Japanese knotweed (Fallopia japonica) poking up and grabbed any that were about 6-8 inches long. An ornamental plant that was coveted in Victorian times for the delicate sprays of white flowers it produces in late summer, Japanese knotweed is now considered a noxious invasive species because of how quickly it spreads and takes over. Despite its noduled and hollow-stalked bamboo-like appearance, it’s actually related to sorrel and rhubarb, and has a similar mouth-puckering astringency.

string theory

Like rhubarb, it is a vegetable that lends itself to both sweet and savory preparations. Many sources I consulted recommend literally substituting it in any recipe that calls for rhubarb, but Euell Gibbons, my de facto (read, dead) mentor, wrote that it has an affinity for butter and cream. So I decided to boil them until soft and then puree them with a little of both. The result was extremely tasty, with a crisp vegetal tartness that balanced the richness; something akin to asparagus or sorrel. My only quibble is that no one mentioned the rather overt stringiness, along the lines of celery. The strings weren’t so tough as to be problematic in the dish, but next time I might push the sauce through a fine strainer.

green piece

So with your freshly foraged Japanese knotweed and wild garlic—or even with asparagus and green garlic from the farmers market—this is the dish to make. Wild things, you make my heart sing.

Our annual combined celebration of Easter and Passover came and went in a frenzy of cooking and eating, as usual. I was in charge of the bulk of the menu this time but, as always, our 15 friends brought traditional treats and specialties that really pushed things over the top. I’m going to spread out the telling of this event over the week, posting a different recipe each day, or else it will be too overwhelming for both of us. As you can see from the photo, above, we gathered at Beaver Dam, the gorgeous upstate home of a very chic French gallerist I am lucky to call my bosom friend. Big dogwood branches, hyacinths and other spring blooms came from the city, as most plants are still dormant up here. The sun was shining, the air was cool and fresh, and we had a roaring fire going. Spirits were high as the advent of spring always brings a rush of renewed energy.

natural colors

on the rack

Earlier in the week I dyed a couple dozen eggs using only natural elements: purple cabbage, turmeric, beets and coffee. I love that the colors range from slightly muddy to very intense. If you’re interested in the how-to, all the details are here.

wipe your mouth

The eggs complemented my mismatched set of linen napkins. Many years ago, when I was working on a catalogue for the now-defunct Takashimaya, they wanted me to come up with names for each of the colors of linen napkins they sold, so they sent me one of each as inspiration. There are 20 and they have stood me in very good stead.

wild greens

A couple of plants that are in full swing already are the nettles and wild garlic mustard, two invasive native plants that abound in fields. Both are rich in vitamins (especially A and C) and minerals and have the clean, rich taste of wild greens.

nettlesome

You must pick the nettles with gloves as they are covered with fine stinging needles. The tender leafy shoots are best, so early in the season is the right time to forage.

hunk o’ greens

Inspired by a delicious kale marmalade I had at Stone Barns, I decided to make my own version with the nettles and garlic mustard. I had an entire backpack full of greens and, after blanching, they reduced down to about the size of a medium head of cabbage. I sauteed these low and slow with some shallots and coriander seed, seasoned them with sea salt and lemon juice and stirred in olive oil once they were very tender. I served this with bacon-wrapped roasted halibut as the main course of our feast. If you’d like to make this marmalade and don’t have foraged greens, you could substitute almost any toothy greens, like kale, spinach, dandelion or sorrel. Go wild.

I was hell-bent on eating poi during my Hawaiian vacation. You know me, always determined to have that authentic experience. Guess what? No luck. The restaurant scene on the Big Island is kind of bleak. The place voted the island’s best was resoundingly mediocre. Lilikoi (that’s passionfruit) is ubiquitous, except it wasn’t in season and overly-sweetened concentrate was being used for everything from cocktails to custards. Just not the same. And why not serve the amazing guavas, mangoes and strawberries that were colossally fresh and delicious? Well, because many Hawaiians, like their fellow mainlanders, have let go of much of their traditional, locally grown food and now rely on processed crap. Poi, a starchy paste made from fermented taro (or sometimes breadfruit), and traditionally eaten with fish was not on any restaurant menu. I didn’t see it at any of the markets we visited, either. Foiled! We ended up cooking at home quite a bit since our rentals were equipped with pretty good kitchens and we ate well, mostly thanks to the beautiful farmers market in Hilo.

schinus terebinthifolius, or pink peppercorns

I did a little foraging. I found these pink peppercorns growing on the hike down to Pololu Valley. They are actually not pepper at all, but from a species of flowering plant in the cashew family. Their slightly sweet, piney flavor is quite lovely, and I crushed some with salt and chopped fresh herbs and rolled a log of local goat cheese in this mixture. Try this with any combination of fresh or dried herbs and spices.

go nuts

Hanging from various tree were different types of dark wrinkly pods, all of them containing rows of mysterious brown seeds. These, on the left, turned out to be carob. The round nuts on the right are macadamias, and are delicious straight from the shell. They can also be ground into a very rich butter.

almond joy

In the lush basin of the valley, we came across the wild almond trees (Terminalia catappa) that I had read about in this fabulous book. A fibrous husk encases a very hard shell and within lies a slim, somewhat juicy nut that tastes faintly of almond and coconut. If we’d had several lazy hours to do nothing but crack these open, I might have made any number of tasty confections, but it just wasn’t that kind of vacation.

to market, to market

The outdoor market in Hilo was full of everything I missed seeing in the restaurants: local honey (pale gold and sweetly floral), fresh coconut water and milk, various kinds of avocado, eggplant, bitter melon, Maui onions, breadfruit, taro, local goat cheese, exotic flowers, homemade passion fruit curd, candied coconut, ginger juice…

eat shoots and leaves

…and some greens I’d never seen, like these pipinola shoots that turned out to be from the chayote plant. This is a green vegetable something like a squash, that is originally from Mexico but is now eaten all over the world. The greens tasted a bit like spinach (the vegetable equivalent of “tastes like chicken”).

furry fruits

G was delighted to come across his favorite rambutans, a sweet and watery tropical fruit related to the lychee.

nice package

Banana leaves are used for steaming and wrapping various foods; these were stuffed with a combination of sticky rice, coconut milk, mashed taro and banana. Sort of like a riff on tamales…

all bundled up

This slim version was just sticky rice steamed with coconut milk.

plant food

Also new to me were these vibrant green shoots that unfurl from the coiled ho’i'o fernhead. They have a subtle flavor and somewhat slippery texture that is compared to both okra and asparagus.

ferns unfurling

I cooked them together with the pipinola shoots, some garlic and diced sweet Maui onion in a big skillet slicked with virgin coconut oil.

melting pot

The pipinola shoots were a bit stringy, but the ferns were incredible—silky and delicious. I made another batch on a different night, sauteed with some gingery black bean paste, and liked them even more on their own.

oyster mushrooms

A big bag of these oyster mushrooms (enough to feed 6) cost $10 and cooked to a meaty perfection in a combination of butter and olive oil, sprinkled generously with the local black salt. They were a great accompaniment to our tasty steaks, from the local cattle we saw grazing everywhere on the island’s gorgeous green grass.

purple sweet potatoes aka okinawa yam

These purple sweet potatoes are closer to garnet yams than Peruvian purple potatoes. Though pale on the outside, they are a deep antioxidant-rich shade inside, and perhaps the sweetest starchiest potato ever.

simply smashing

We ate ours mashed with copious amounts of butter and lots of lime juice, which made light pink swirls in the mix.

purple reigns

As a coarse finishing salt, we used the local black lava salt, a subtly smoky blend of sea salt and purified volcanic charcoal. The salt evaporates in above-ground pools that form naturally from lava flows and activated charcoal, a proven anti-toxin and digestive-tract palliative, is added for color as well as its detoxifying effects.

salt of the earth

We drank cocktails of coconut rum with coconut water and lime and, for dessert, treated ourselves to tapioca pudding made with coconut milk and raw cane sugar, served with chunks of lime-and-ginger-drenched pineapple. Maybe we should open a restaurant there…

Hawaii’s Big Island was full of impressively lush vistas like this one. For the first part of our stay, we were on a wonderful private ranch at the island’s northern tip, near Hawi. Horses, chickens and a sweet dog roamed the property where our group of six inhabited two separate bungalows. Ours had a hot tub and a resident spider (see below). There were avocado, mango, macadamia, guava and papaya trees and an organic vegetable garden. From our high bed we could look out over blooming violet jacarandas and golden-green meadows to the ocean in the distance. It was heavenly.

amazing arachnid

This impressive creature was like a sentry, always hanging around the door to our bungalow. Turns out he’s a relatively harmless Argiope Keyserlingi, commonly known as St. Andrew’s Cross Spider. He was a great introduction to the many new and interesting flora and fauna we encountered on this trip. In this post, I’m going to share lots of photos of these things. In another, I will tell you about my culinary experiences.

how green was my valley

Our first hike was down into Pololu Valley (the view from the top is seen in the first photo above), one of a series of deep valleys cut into the steep coastal cliffs around the Big Island. The weather reminded me a bit of Iceland, in that your are often moving through different micro-climates—now it’s foggy, now it’s drizzling, now it’s sunny and hot. As you can see, it was fairy-tale green with lots of moss, flowers and fruit-bearing trees.

in the pink

On this trek we came across these pink pepperberries (delicious to eat right off the tree), wild almonds (lots of work to extract) and Indian mulberries which, though quite nutritious, emit a forbidding stench (along the lines of Époisses) when ripe.

black beauty

At the base of the cliffs is a black sand beach covered with perfectly round and oval volcanic rocks in an intense palette of blacks, greys and deep reds. Again like Iceland, much of the island is covered with lava in varying states and degrees of decomposition.

old soul

On a different beach, we saw this enormous sea turtle looking very mellow and drowsy. There were lots of kids around, and surfers, and nobody paid this fellow much heed. I was mesmerized by his ancient looks, so prehistoric.

positively psychedelic

On our way back from the fabulous farmers market in Hilo, we stopped at the botanical gardens and wound our way through this amazing rain forest full of jaw-dropping exotic plants.

these orchids smelled strongly and sweetly of vanilla (which is a kind of orchid)

the massive root stock of the mule’s foot fern which has the largest fronds of any fern

these fiddleheads were enormous, almost a foot in diameter

the ferns were incredibly impressive and so beautiful

this bat plant is typical of the exotic flora

there were tons of different gingers, including this corrugated one

also many palms, including bananas (this flower is edible)

we were told that this flower blooms only once a year and lasts just 2 days

i spied her

Tons of these spiders were hanging off the eaves of the next house we stayed in. It was a big, 4-bedroom place on the east side of the island, again with a hot tub on the large wraparound porch and sweeping vistas down to the sea. At night, wild pigs rooted around on the lawn for grubs, and the scent of gardenias wafted through the cool air.

thar she blows

Another outing took us to Volcano National Park, where we hiked down through lush rain forest to this dry lunar terrain encrusted with cracked and buckling lava.

this should give you a little perspective on the enormity of the place

strangers in paradise

Perhaps my favorite journey was down into Waipi’o Valley, a stunning and pristine valley that was once the permanent residence of early Hawaiian kings. Later, it was populated by many taro farmers, but everything got wiped out by a tsunami in the ‘40s. Several decades later, a few people trickled back in and began farming taro again, but they live off the grid and it’s quite rustic and insular. Wild horses roam there, eating the ripe guavas that fall from the trees. It reminded me of a Hawaiian version of a “holler,” and the locals are similarly inhospitable.

road warriors

The valley floor at sea level is almost 2,000 ft below the surrounding terrain, and the road that leads down is so steep that it’s open only to 4-wheel-drive vehicles. It’s the steepest road of its length in the United States and possibly the world. Several large waterfalls fall into the valley to feed the river which flows from the foot of the largest falls at the back of the valley out to the ocean. The shore line is a black sand beach popular with surfers. Our legs wobbled on the way down, and screamed for mercy on the long, arduous hike back up. (Later, we read that, on a bet, Lance Armstrong biked up the hill in 9 minutes.)

The Big Island felt like Jurassic Park—an ancient, primal landscape, lush beyond all imagining. A place to be in awe of nature’s beauty and power, to feel the salt spray on your face, hear the call of birds and inhale the restorative air, fresh from so much green. It’s a trip I highly recommend.

Home again, home again. As much as I love to travel, sometimes I think coming home is the best part. Especially when the transition from balmy Hawaii to balmy New York is so smooth. (Minus the jet lag, of course.) Our trip to the Big Island was extraordinary, and I plan to tell you all about it, but I hit the ground running and have not yet had a chance to sort through all the photos, much less my thoughts. So that’s for next week. For now, a few glimpses of spring’s first signs—it’s arrived fast and furious in these parts—and links to some of my latest discoveries. I’m chomping at the bit to start foraging and have a long list of wild edibles I’m determined to find this season. By the way, I’ve missed you madly and realize all over again what a wonderful creative and social outlet this blog is for me.

the trillium are here

I’m excited to report that two trillium I planted last year have poked through the old pine needles and are making their gorgeously mottled green debut! I’ll definitely show you again once they’re further along.

not boring at all

The hellebores add a quiet drama to the garden early on, opening broad flat flowers in striking greens and purples. I plan to stock up on a bunch more this year as these are so pretty and reliable.

rhubarbarella!

The rhubarb is the first thing to spring up in the vegetable garden, although over-wintered scallions made it through and lovage, collards and anise hyssop are also making a tentative appearance.

wild thing

Garlic mustard (above) and nettles are just beginning to show in wet fields, and asparagus and Japanese knotweed won’t be far behind. I can’t wait to start feasting on the wild tastes of spring! A few of these soft garlic mustard leaves will add a sharp pungency to salads. I also like to make a pesto with it.

road food

I brought a bunch of these kale chips on vacation and they were devoured by our crew of ravenous volcano hikers. Although I like to make my own kale chips, I must admit these are super-crunchy and slathered with addictive nut and spice mixtures in flavors like spicy miso, Bombay ranch (insane) and sea salt and vinegar. New York magazine called them “Doritos for health nuts,” and they are not wrong. Order them here.

We drank oodles of coconut water when we were in Hawaii, and this is good stuff available here.

If these won’t inspire you to get into the garden, I don’t know what will. (You know I have a leather fetish.)

More ceramics porn. Have I mentioned how much I love stoneware??

Blog LOVE. Also this one, again. And this one, always.

Consider this for your next charitable donation.

I would dye for you. More on my latest obsession soon.

Marvel at these twin sisters and their rad embroidery skills.

Have a wonderful weekend! xoxo

With the equinox less than two weeks away, spring is in the air, quite literally. It smells of change, a watery freshness that has beckoned the migrating birds, the slumbering bears, the silent buds. The ground was speckled with an ethereal frosting of something this morning—teensy hail? powdery snow?—that’s already dissipating as I write this. The first sign of the new season, fragile yet hardy snowdrops, have popped up beneath the river birch. I leave for Hawaii on Sunday. With a couple of posts in the hopper, the blog won’t be completely silent this week, but travelogues won’t post until my return. This is a vacation, and vacation I will.

In anticipation of all there is to do on Hawaii’s Big Island, I’m packing binoculars (birds), flashlight (caves), hiking boots (volcanoes), bathing suit (black sand beaches), mosquito repellent (rainforest) and Euell Gibbon’s Beachcombers Guide (foraging). It should be an action-packed 10 days.

In the meantime, I’ve compiled a few links for you; some inspiration, a little food for thought. May you be transported!

This new online travel magazine looks promising

A great way to know what to read next

Start planning your garden

I’m obsessed with these pillows

I hear this will put some hair on your chest

These look ideal for getting organized

Some unusual combinations for excellent breakfasts or snacks

A sustainable resource reinvented for the 21st century…

…though I’m loving the book backlash

Some adorable things on sale here, perfect for spring

xoxo