John and I are finishing our time on Monhegan—another week clad in thick fog and cloudless days, Manana flitting in and out of view across the harbor. Everything is sticky. We climb into damp sheets each night, and awake to dew, clinging to the window screens. The kitchen door is so swollen it no longer closes; my next-door neighbor is desperate to hang her clothes on the line. On Thursday, the sun came out, and it was finally summer—until Friday.
Still, compared to the rest of the country, I’m not going to complain, and personally, just to be on island? Well, I’ll take all the weather. No matter what.
I've allowed this week to be one of pure vacation. No house projects (ok, that was easy because it's too wet to paint), no saying "yes" to the odd job request that comes my way. Instead, I'm walking with friends I only see once a year, spending time at the Monhegan Museum's extraordinary exhibition: Counterpoint: Monhegan's Artist Couples, and I have a new iteration of my sea glass obsession: wishing stones.
One week on Monhegan is never enough, but it's what I have, so I'm doing my best to make the most of it, to make it mine, whatever that may be. Last week NYT food editor Sam Sifton wrote something similar about the ways he plays with recipes, in this case, gochujang buttered noodles:
Make any recipe more than three or four times and you’re going to change it, either for reasons of taste or expediency, occasionally both. Make that recipe six or seven times and it’s altered forever. It’s no longer the recipe you originally found. It’s yours.
Now I didn’t bring any gochujang paste, and I highly doubt there’s any at the store, but it got me thinking about how I’ve always cooked on Monhegan: the meals I only make here and the way I make them mine. Recipes of economy, relying on simple ingredients, substitutions, and often omissions. Shelf-stable staples to be used in a multiplicity of ways, capable of sustaining long seasonal stretches padlocked in my upstairs closet/makeshift pantry, which reminds me, I do have a jar of chili-crisp tucked away, so maybe those “gochujang” noodles might be a possibility after all. Hmmmm.
All of this is to say that rather than a full newsletter, and in honor of vacation, I’m sharing a few of my most reliable, most made on repeat, most loved recipes. The one’s I’ve altered forever to make my own. Just like my time on Monhegan—because sometimes less is more. Of course, you don’t need to be on an island to ingest any of these, but it never hurts.
thanks for reading ~
coconut-curry mussels ~ serves 2 for dinner
2T neutral oil
1 red onion, thinly sliced
3 + cloves garlic, thinly sliced
3T chopped ginger (jarred ginger works just fine)
1 can full fat coconut milk
1 can green curry paste (4 oz)
2T fish sauce
3 lb mussels, preferably just off the boat, scrubbed + debearded
2 limes
crusty bread
heat oil in a large pot over medium-high heat; add sliced onion and garlic and stir until soft, about 5 minutes. add the ginger and curry paste and continue stirring until fragrant, about 2 minutes. note: i usually use 1/2 the can, so 2 ounces, but i have a high spice tolerance, so you may wish to adjust accordingly.
add coconut milk, fish sauce and 1/4 cup water and bring to a boil/simmer. add the mussels; cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the mussels open, about 8 minutes. discard any that do not open. add the juice of 2 limes to each pot and the lime halves. serve with bread, if desired.
notes: if you happen to have cilantro, amazing ~ you can add that to the pot before serving. if you discover that 3 lbs of mussels are too much for two people, congratulations, you have another meal. remove the mussels from the shells, add them to the coconut curry sauce and reheat the next day. this recipe is easily modified, especially doubled, especially if you are a fan of soup, which i am.
okay, this isn’t really a recipe, but it’s the best way i know to make way better brownies from a box
start with whatever brownie mix you like/have—i usually keep a package (or 2) of ghirardelli double chocolate brownie mix in my upstairs “pantry.”
then, swap coffee for water; unsalted butter (melted) for oil. and add a large-ish pinch of cayenne pepper to the mix. take care to cool the coffee and butter slightly before mixing into eggs so they don’t curdle (i also bring my eggs to room temperature first).
done
oat milk chocolate pudding
this is a new to me recipe, one i started making in search of a vegan dessert option, but i’ve already made this three times in the last ten days so it must be a keeper. it’s so quick and super island easy… . .
⅓C granulated sugar
⅓C unsweetened cocoa powder
2T cornstarch
⅛t fine sea salt
2C oat milk
4ounces bittersweet bar chocolate, finely chopped
1t vanilla extract
in a medium saucepan, stir together the sugar, cocoa, cornstarch and salt. slowly stir in the milk until smooth and combined.
stir the mixture constantly over medium-low heat, scraping the bottom, sides and corners of the pan, until the pudding thickens, begins to bubble, and coats the back of the spoon or spatula, 5 to 10 minutes.
add the chocolate and stir vigorously (with a balloon whisk if you have) until the pudding is very thick and smooth, about 30 seconds longer.
remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla. spoon the pudding into a serving bowl or individual cups or ramekins. serve warm, at room temperature or chilled ~ pudding will continue to thicken as it cools.
what are some of my other go to island recipes?
marcella hazan’s famous tomato sauce with linguine (always with tinned tomatoes)
and a whole frozen chicken is perfect travel companion. first as “ice” for your cooler, then as dinner (i roast it this way), and finally turned into soup or chicken salad
i’d love to know what recipes you’ve made your own?
one other cooking question: on monhegan, i don’t have a microwave (or a toaster for that matter), and i don’t miss it at all. we’re in the final throes of our 585 kitchen renovation, and i’m pretty sure we could join the 10% of Americans who live without a microwave, although john is not—i’d love to hear your thoughts!
currently
reading
Ongoingness: The End of a Diary Sarah Manguso
listening
The Retrievals: what are the stories we tell about women’s pain and what happens when we minimize or dismiss them?
thinking about the ways
Jane Birken has been my muse—not just in the ways she dressed so effortlessly in a white cotton peasant blouse and a pair of blue jeans with a bag big enough to hold everything, but because of her bangs. Her easy breezy choppy bangs. Whenever I see a new stylist, I always carry her picture.
and finally, this
A musical artist who means a lot to me: Who else but Taylor Swift? I was born in 1993, and she was the artist I grew up with, from eighth grade on. I love her for the obvious reasons—she’s a once-in-a-generation talent, and anyone who says otherwise is just in love with the feeling of being contrarian. But I also suspect that a great many women love her for one of the same reasons they might love Joan Didion (certainly one of the reasons I love Joan Didion): the writing, yes, but also the memory of the girl you were when you first discovered it.
Any artist who reminds you of who you were when you were young is bound to stay with you forever.
Elaina Plott Calabro
When Women Were Birds: murmuration, memoir, meditation is FULL
coming soon… . ..2024 retreats on Monhegan AND in the Finger Lakes… . ..
thanks for reading. if you enjoy this newsletter, it helps me grow a surprising amount if you spread the word. you can share it, forward to a friend and ask them to subscribe, or leave a like or comment below. commenting in community creates a gracious weave as we get to know one another all the more.
oh! i’ve also been fiddling around with Substack Notes, and would love for you to join me there! in between my newsletters, i’m using it as shorthand space to share, and i’ve met the most wonderful people!
Just stumbled across your substack (following a long line of LWS writers) and love your storytelling and imagery. It makes the very grey and dreary days in the UK seem a little more poetic ❤️
Okay, I have to try that pudding recipe! And I feel the same way as the author quoted about Ani DiFranco. But only her first 4 or 5 albums. After those years I lost track of her work and by the time I encountered her again that rabid, youthful enthusiasm was gone.