Sunday morning began with my sister Kassandra waking early and a trip to the grocer near my apartment for a few brunch things—some housemade sun-dried tomatoes to go with fresh pear tomatoes, arugula, and buffalo mozzarella (that’s the white) on top of a frittata,

and sugar plums from Red Jacket Orchards that exude a glossy syrup when roasted.

Catching up with my friend Solana over brunch (I’m happy she’s back in Brooklyn) filled my kitchen with laughter, and then she was off into her day, followed by Kassandra, who I see all too infrequently, leaving to drive to Philadelphia for her flight (she was in NJ this week setting a choreography and spontaneously rented a car to drive up for the weekend).

In the quiet kitchen, I turned to making a goat cheese cake for Tricia and Kenyatta‘s afternoon picnic, letting it cool by the open window,

before slicing figs across the top and drizzling it with honey from Brooklyn bees.

Arriving at Fort Greene Park, I found a sprawling group of artists, librarians, researchers, and videographers, everyone new to me and—unsurprisingly for friends of Tricia and Kenyatta—fascinating and creative.

The gracious Tricia poured me a mimosa and smiled with Kenyatta, who was in the center of the group, as I found an unoccupied patch of blanket.

The cake went quickly,

with the beautiful Elle waiting patiently, entranced by squirrels, before neatly nabbing the last slice,

and all too soon, it was time to fold the blankets—like Audrey, I wondered why summer Sundays ever have to end—

but then again, how nice it was to have spent the afternoon reveling with this crew…

More fun images and video in Tricia’s Flickr set—

Shortly before I left for Santa Cruz in May, I invited my friends Sarah and Fil to a grains dinner party at my apartment—and I have missed them during my summer away.

On Wednesday, Sarah, who is an artist as well as a great cook and hostess, invited me over to her apartment for a dinner party that felt summery and full of the best parts of Brooklyn.

Fil and I arrived to find Sarah working on an avocado and tomato salad, while Xavier finished his wonderful garlic chicken (he’s off to the right side above).

It was so nice to sit on Sarah’s floor, open bottles of cava and laugh as we started with Fil’s excellent cheese plate, then filled plates with ripe market tomatoes, buttery avocados, seasoned corn next to the garlic chicken.

All three are talented performers and delightful conversationalists, and we opened bottles of Vinho Verde, lingered over warm brownies Sarah served in pink melamine cups.

You’ll find these friends on kthread again soon; these are just some of the reasons I’m happy to be back in Brooklyn…

My close friend Karen moved to Brooklyn a little while ago, and she has transformed her apartment into an aerie—and one that hosts frequent dinner parties.

When I was visiting Brooklyn two weekends ago, she threw one of her parties (reason enough to book a flight), and she let me help her prep the food and her beautiful white table that is bathed in sunlight every afternoon.

We spent a fun day zipping to Red Hook’s Fairway in a rented car for groceries, finding wine in long blue bottles in Park Slope, and purchasing baguettes at Brooklyn Larder (some to serve, one to eat during the day). Both of us usually prep for parties by ourselves, so we laughed frequently as we overlapped in our combined forces (isn’t Karen beautiful?)

Fia arrived with her homemade limoncello (Karen had already put the glasses in the freezer) and a beautiful chocolate cake for Arthur’s birthday, and she tested the strawberry-watermelon-vodka blend spun from our friend Francis the Watermelon (we met Francis at Fairway),

and shortly thereafter, friends began to arrive, so we started the two risottos, one with roasted fennel, and the other with shelled spring peas and whole milk ricotta from Salvatore Brooklyn to follow the salad. Karen placed the risottos on the table, and we all served each other, in the style of family, after watching a brilliant sunset.

Much later, the cake was presented and Fia’s wonderful limoncello served (you can see a little glass in Solana’s hand),

and Arthur’s smile as his family looked on was another reminder of how much I miss Brooklyn when I am away, and how much fun it is to celebrate with all the very interesting people of New York, most of whom wouldn’t consider living anywhere else…

On Saturday morning, red leaves of Park Slope streets filtered the sun,

and I walked first (well, first was Milk Thistle, but right after that) to Cayuga Organics, where I bought one of every kind of grain, delighted to find rye berries that they don’t often bring.

Pausing for carrots (I like knowing I have the carrot tops in case I run out of parsley),

ramps and rhubarb at Wilklow Orchards,

I arranged all the beautiful things from the Grand Army Plaza market on the kitchen table: lilacs and green wheat, carrots, grains, ramps, rhubarb, asparagus, Evolutionary Organics eggs, scallions, and Milk Thistle whole milk, almost everything I needed for a “bowls of grain” party Sunday night.

I peered at the buds of the asparagus,

the different colors of the grains,

and headed out again toward the outdoor Brooklyn Flea at Ft. Greene, where I found green roof trays,

letters to spell all kinds of words,

vintage glass,

and skeletal outdoor furniture.

A little later, I decided upon the yellow dress to be the woman in the yellow hat at a Derby Day party—it makes me happy to see everyone wearing beribboned, rosy hats.

Just before the party, I stopped in to Studiofeast‘s Korean BBQ event,

a nice bookend to a week that began with catching up with my friends Ethan and Catherine at a Korean restaurant,

and Mike was, as usual, competently plating beautiful food (he also cooks in A Razor, A Shiny Knife).

Sunday morning I picked up a croissant, warming it in the oven, making a pocket to spread with homemade butter and place a bit of chocolate inside for a pain au chocolat (I like these better in the classic croissant crescent).

The decorative green wheat on the kitchen table that I had found at Saturday’s market reminded me to begin cooking,

and so I simmered rice for pudding with heady vanilla beans.

Slowly, I created the bowls of whole grains I have been dreaming about: wheat berries simmered for an hour, then stirred with balsamic and sautéed red chard (these do not have to be soaked, ratio is 1:3 grain: water).

Then, green freekeh (roasted spelt) that does not need to soak (1:3 grain: water) simmered for twenty minutes with sautéed carrots and flowering broccoli.

Soaked brown spelt (about two hours, 1:3) simmered for about 45 minutes before meeting roasted spring asparagus and big, snowy pieces of chevre.

Farro’s sweetness (soaked three hours, 1.5:4, simmered 45 minutes) heightened with the slivered dried plums, chopped almonds, and roasted fennel.

Lastly, the rye berries (soaked four hours, 1:3, cooked 45 minutes) took to the ramps and glistened with oil.

Just as I was finishing the rye berries, my friends began to arrive, and Sarah, Fil, Kirstin, Noah, and Karen were all game for the different textures of each grain (the brined pork tenderloin also worked, was passed separately). They are all, by the way, lovelier than this—I was enjoying their company too much to take a proper picture.

For dessert, I spooned poached rhubarb over the rice pudding, and loved how these smart people filled the warm kitchen with their wit and laughter.

This morning, I glanced at the chive flowers in the windowsill, in various stages of bloom,

slipped one into the remainder of the rye berries with scrambled market eggs,

and then ate it (that’s the best sort of flower) and in a playful, warm way, it was all yellow.

The rest of the trees in Brooklyn have caught up with spring,

and the market on Wednesday offered those gifts we wait for after winter,

spring asparagus,

ramps (the farmers tell me we may have a banner few weeks for this fleeting wild allium),

and at the Bread Alone stand I found beautiful Geneva cakes made with potato flour moistened with an almond syrup.

I walked back through the pink tree canopies of Park Slope,

and a little later, sautéed hirame for roasted new potatoes and asparagus with a ramp chiffonade, preserved lemon butter, and a chive flower from my windowsill.

I had dinner with my friend Karen for the second time on Wednesday night (it’s been a great week), and I woke up on Thursday thinking about my dream of arranging life like Jenga blocks, compared the rosy duck egg to the blue chicken egg,

and decided on the larger duck egg to poach, letting the yolk spill onto mandolined potatoes (my Jenga move) with more of those lovely ramps,

and then with cream from the market, I made homemade butter with bits of ramps and Meyer lemon zest for my friend Keryn who lives in Rockland, Maine.

When I arrived at her beautiful house, she told me how Johnny Jump-Ups (like the one pressed into the butter) are a flower that remind her of finding spring with her grandmother as a child, one of many things I am finding we have in common this weekend in coastal Maine…