A few weeks ago, I hopped a flight to London for a weekend jaunt, arriving Sunday morning to a clear sky and a quiet walk from the tube to my hotel near shiny gates of some renown.

And taking a cue from the statue, off I went, exploring,

through dappled sunshine (it really was) in parks,

and landmarks, and fountains,

past impressive buildings,

all on the way to find a gift my friend Ben hid for me using my new mobile app for hiding and finding gifts, Galvanize. Here’s what happened with the gift:

After dinner with new friends, I woke up on Monday ready to continue my walking tour of London, starting in Notting Hill. I noted the food vendors on Portobello Road,

and stopped into the loveliest shop with prepared foods I have ever encountered, The Grocer on Elgin, for a sandwich, local milk, and an intriguing package of Pavlova Magic.

From Notting Hill, I ventured toward Smithfield Market,

near to food pilgrimage site St. John, where I beamed through a beautiful late lunch of nettle soup with snails, bone marrow salad, and Eccles cake served with cheese (pictures wouldn’t do it justice).

Then, it was to Westminster Abbey, of course,

and to wave at Big Ben and Parliament,

and watch the London Eye slowly rotate (it’s fun being a tourist),

then walk the Thames,

as falling leaves skittered across the paths and the dusk settled in,

over the London Eye’s continuing rotation and the bagpipes playing,

as I went off to Oxford Circus for more adventures (and most notably, delicious raw milk gelato at Scoop) to complete a wonderful quick trip.

London, thank you for the fair weather, and I hope to see you again soon…

On Saturday morning, I walked the familiar stands of the Charlottesville Farmers’ Market;

the squash, peppers, and eggplants of Waterpenny Farms were shining, as were their beautiful tomatoes,

near heirloom Virginia apples, as that season is in full swing.

Walking beyond the market, I found Surryano ham (a version of Serrano ham made in Surry, Virginia, where the pigs are fed local peanuts) at Feast market—perfect for an afternoon winery tour with old friends.

Tricia arrived with balloons,

and Helen corralled everyone (many had driven in from out of town) onto the bus for her birthday celebration.

Our first destination was Cardinal Point Winery, where Sev and I mused over what the ideal wine tasting would be like,

and while the crowded Veritas tasting room (our second destination) leaves much to be desired, the lovely grounds have the makings of a perfect afternoon.

Sev poured for Ben and Jeremy (seems we all coordinated our outfits for the occasion),

and the Veritas Cabernet Franc Reserve 2008 was the bottle of the day (Cab Franc grows well in Central Virginia).

Before too long, I took my glass out to the lawn, watching everyone compare vintages and grapes,

and a child chase an errant chicken,

that pecked behind Ben as he was delivering his usual wry commentary after joining me on the grass.

And we relaxed into our final destination: Flying Fox Winery,

where we toasted to lovely Helen, whose sparkling laugh and infectious energy are always a reason to celebrate time with her.

Early the next morning, I breathed deeply as I drove back to Brooklyn through the mountains, as the sun slowly rose over the Shenandoah…

Although I threw a fried green tomato party lately, the post was without fried green tomatoes—mostly because we were all having too much fun by that point, and partly because it was actually my talented friend Dan who worked the pan on the party greens while I circulated with bottles of champagne.

And so this past Friday, I took a last green tomato, sliced it, and fried slices coated in a mix of flour and cornmeal in the renderings of country bacon,

piling them into a favorite sandwich of drizzled buttermilk ranch (homemade aioli, buttermilk, scallions, lemon juice) on top of crisp butter lettuce, squash blossoms, and Broadbent’s Kentucky bacon.

Then yesterday, Dan and I set out on an adventure to the fi:af Farm City Fair at the Invisible Dog Gallery in Brooklyn.

We found fun buttons,

one that later Dan decorated his bag with,

and we were just in time to experience the Asphalt Orchestra (part of Bang on a Can) performance where the musicians really interacted with the crowd,

spreading out, reforming, using megaphones, spinning around themselves when the moment moved them to the great joy of everyone there for the festivities.

There were hydroponics on display from the Boswyck group in Bushwick,

and the scene was really around the distributor of balloons,

as you might imagine.

Wonderful local food vendors were serving foods about to disappear with the end of summer, and Marlow and Sons delivered with a beautiful fried corn that shone with butter, perfectly warmed pear tomatoes, and mint.

Dan and I were also there to learn about wheatgrass artistry from Mathilde Roussel-Giraudy—this piece is a stomach,

and these figures took a week to grow (you are to be impressed at this).

Out in the garden there was a colorful compost pile,

and inside were demonstrations, my favorite being the one from BK Honey,

where combs were sliced and the honey extracted, sparkling as it was released from its cells.

As we left, Dan and I met a vocal “expert” composter with impressive newsprint millinery,

and had a lovely long walk back past painted murals (Dan took this one of me),

robots that we couldn’t help falling for (and I adore Dan, by the way, we had such fun),

and after I hugged him goodbye, the rain started to fall in the neighborhood.

I decided to make gazpacho andaluz,

while I roasted new potatoes and a chicken.

As usual, I think the simplest recipe best, so to make gazpacho andaluz for two on a rainy Sunday afternoon at the end of tomato season,

take four large ripe tomatoes (for this, choose classic red tomatoes grown with care instead of heirlooms). Chop one tomato with the skin and set aside in a bowl.

With the food processor running, drop in two cloves of skinned garlic, then three spring onions (green and white parts), then the three quartered, cored tomatoes. Let one slice of pullman loaf soak up the juice on the cutting board from the tomatoes and then add it to the processor. Add 1 tbsp good sherry vinegar and 4 tbsp olive oil as it spins. Season and spice it as you like; many serve chopped peppers and onions as condiments alongside.

If you have time, chill the soup (you might set the serving bowls over ice for a few minutes), then ladle it into bowls, topping with the chopped tomato and any garnishes. I’m happy to report my taster enjoyed his without garnishes and ate part of my bowl too.

For more on the City Farm Fair, please watch Dan’s excellent and hilarious video and read his Renegade Kitchen post about our magical day:

Farm City Fair from Renegade Kitchen on Vimeo.

Leaving Atlanta incredibly early on Saturday a few weeks ago, Karen, Kevin, and I pulled into the incredibly local farmers’ market of Carrboro, North Carolina around noon to meet my sister Kassandra and her boyfriend Sean (here, at left).

(Note: This is the seventh of eight posts from this road trip. You might start at the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, or sixth post.)

We found crowder peas and field peas,

beautiful tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers proudly displayed in individual containers from one of the many farmers in the allowed fifty-mile radius of this town within Chapel Hill that set up at the market.

Walking over to the Weaver Street Market food co-op, Kassandra and Sean looked for groceries (they both live in a neighboring area),

and Karen found the Carrboro raw truck to begin neutralizing the roadfood of the past week.

Carrboro is generally good at nurturing health, and Kass and Karen were serious about filling their plates with good food as we sat near happy dogs hoping for dropped food and children learning how to walk,

(this is Karen’s plate) before hugging Kassandra and Sean goodbye and continuing on to an underground Indian dinner in Washington, D.C.

That night, we arrived at an Indian dinner orchestrated by a Jain,

that one of my favorite people, Nina, told us about (I surprised her here with the camera flash),

—and learned that Nina has different spices in her spice box than our host. I actually learned a great deal about making a spice box of one’s own as a way to indicate heritage.

The courses continued, interspersed with commentary on the background on this cooking style, but I was too happy to listen, surrounded by very good friends,

and knowing their friendship, like the bread passed throughout, are what anchors me, wherever I am.

Pausing to remark that sometimes this city surprises us, Karen, Kevin, and I headed back to the quirky Tabard Inn, where we prepared for the final leg of the drive back to Brooklyn…

A few months ago, I moved to a little cabin in Santa Cruz to spend the summer on a personal sabbatical (more in my original May post), and July 31st, I left the redwoods and my Stellar Jay friends to return to Brooklyn.

Above is what the inside of the cabin looked like every morning as I peeked out of the sleeping loft around five and climbed down the wooden ladder to begin the day.

On my last afternoon in Santa Cruz, Margaret (who has become one of my closest friends) raved about a community stone event happening in a nearby neighborhood, and walking through the backyard gate, I smiled as the stone artisan related the blissful attributes of bright orange stone Margaret chose.

Trays of beads were organized by color (Santa Cruz is a town of rainbows),

and Kevin listened as the energy of the pink stone he drew out of the “magic stone bag” was explained.

Margaret’s children were running about with joy as usual, and Zsa Zsa had chosen blue as her color of the day—her nails and stone necklace match, of course.

From blue—or maybe Zsa Zsa was really an indigo girl—the color aqua appeared in the form of a fresh egg, to the general excitement of those around the chicken run.

Kevin was perhaps channeling the dark pink stone energy when he cradled a chicken in his arms and had a moment. (I left him to commune with the chicken. These things happen in this town.)

Shortly after I said goodbye to Margaret’s family and a really lovely few months, Kevin and I went to watch aspiring surfers laze in the calm afternoon water as we napped in the sun and then drove to San Jose, where I began the drive to Brooklyn the following morning.

Thank you, thank you Santa Cruz for a summer I’ll remember, and one that is helping shape the path ahead…