Hi! Sunday is my favorite day of the week. It’s the end of the weekend, I feel less FOMO panic to do things so if I leave my house I feel extra accomplished and if I don’t I feel like, well, it’s Sunday. And I usually eat something good for breakfast like a chocolate croissant or peanut butter and honey toast.
Speaking of endings, I have 22 days left in Charleston which makes me feel sixty-five different and conflicting ways, of course. We’ve all moved before, it’s stressful and scary and exciting and fun and I’m not going to bore you with the fact that I got a little bit teary on my morning run the other day because it was pretty and hot and I saw a family of dolphins at waterfront park and the barista at Harken said hi Stuart when I walked in to get my end of run coffee and something about Charleston is magical in a very specific and humid way and living fifteen minutes from the beach is exactly as wonderful as I always imagined. On the other hand, New York! Moving to New York is one of those things that makes me wish I could whisper to the thirteen year old version of me making mood boards out of Tiger Beat magazines in my bedroom in my very small town. Thinking about walking to class from my tiny apartment in the East Village on a fall day makes me feel like I have exclamation points tap dancing across my stomach. The only thing that feels more impossible than leaving is not going. When I was little, I was always wowed by state lines. How perfectly ordinary but also what a miracle that if you stand in a specific spot, you exist in two different places. That’s how I feel now: divided. Ordinarily, miraculously divided. Also a bit hungry.
Perfect food day
All of this is to say that I’ve been a little nostalgic lately, as you might have guessed. The Cure is on repeat and I keep taking pictures of really mundane things like the tree in my driveway. My sister and I wrote a list of lasts on a napkin at Chico Feo the other day that I’ve been slowly checking off: fried chicken and oysters from Leon’s, zapp’s voodoo chips at the beach, Hampton Park. This list made me think about my perfect food day. A perfect food day is kind of like the last meal icebreaker question but less morbid. It’s your dream eating day, what you would eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner if money was no object and you’d never get full. My Charleston perfect food day changes depending on the last thing I ate but here’s my current list:
Breakfast: a ricotta biscuit from Harken and three iced oat milk lattes and half of whatever muffin just came out of the oven but I really hope it’s blueberry.
Lunch: Carry out pizza from D’als and then a drive to Sullivan’s to eat lunch on the beach. On the way home, stop at the gas station for ice cream sandwiches.
Afternoon snack (it’s my day I can do what I want): whatever the staff meal is at Royal and buffalo cauliflower and a high life.
Dinner: Rappahannock for oysters, then uber to Maison for steak frites and champagne and something chocolate for dessert. Walk to Cutty’s after for a gin & tonic.
Eye candy
Some food adjacent items I’ve consumed lately:
Jami Attenberg’s newsletter on developing her characters which involves a list of questions about what they eat: “Do they cut the crusts off their bread? Do they eat the rinds of cheese? Do they use cooking spray or olive oil or butter? Do they eat their children’s cereal absentmindedly at breakfast? Are they cheese snobs? Are they daytime snackers? Are they late night eaters? Did they grow up hungry? Are they hungry now?” Something about this is so beautiful to me.
This very cute Instagram account for a lemonade stand in Brooklyn.
And this very gorgeous and almost unintimidating book about wine.
XOXO
Hope your Sunday is lovely, like orange juice, a breakfast sandwich, as much coffee as your heart desires, a long rambly walk and the song Just like Heaven lovely. Love you love you see you soon!