It’s not over til the… ahem. until the Lady sings.

All it takes is a cool breeze and I got an itchin in my bones for fall. I am not alone.  Just as I was about to spend some time yearning for sweaters, I had the delicious fortune to stumble upon New York Magazine’s stunning roundup of get-em-while-it’s-hot-ephemeral-summer-eats. Oh baby, it ain’t over til it’s over. I see a trip to Randazzo’s in my near future… Yum Yum Yum: Zucchini thin pie from Franny’s , Blueberry (thick!) pie from Four and Twenty Blackbirds, Tomatoes (for Andrew) from whatevs farmers market you can muster, ‘wichcraft BLT (LOOK at it), Pearl Oyster Bar Po Boy, and Key Lime Frozen Yogurt from Culture… so much outer borough love!

All Courtesy of Robin Raisfeld and Rob Patronite


Author: loiseaufait

Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion. Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).

2 thoughts on “It’s not over til the… ahem. until the Lady sings.”

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