The cookie crumbled slightly under her touch, leaving a spray of dust across the table between them. Adam picked up a second one from the plate, turning it around in his hand. It was thin and flat and as wide as his broad hand with the crinkled look of a very good molasses cookie. It was chewy and crisp at the same time—the slip of paper under the plate read simply miso, brown butter, rice flour. The other lines were equally intriguing: graham flour, rum, thyme and candied fennel, tahini, caramel.
Read moreCoconut Ginger Ice Cream
The breakfast room is bright; sunlight streams in through the palladian windows. The air smells of bacon and coffee and the subtle saltiness of sea air drifting in from off the sound. A platter of croissants and slices of lightly toasted Portuguese bread sits on the center of the table, flanked by delicate Royal Delft dishes holding softened butter, marmalade, and beach plum jam. Will saunters in, his hair tousled and his shirt rumpled, testament to the late hour he stumbled home the night before. Despite the gorgeous day unfolding and the leisurely breakfast awaiting them, there’s tension humming in the room.
Read moreCHOCOLATE PECAN PIE ICE CREAM
SIX YEARS AGO
“All it does is rain here,” she says gloomily. She kicks at the leg of a wicker chaise lounge and it collapses, flipping onto its side. “This entire house is falling apart. It’s crap.”
“What’s got you in such a foul mood?” Whit asks through a mouthful of cereal.
“That’s repulsive, Whit,” she says. He’s just poured himself a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats and doused it with a stream of heavy cream until the cereal almost disappeared. “You might as well eat a stick of butter for breakfast.”
Read moreFUDGY CHOCOLATE CONDENSED MILK COOKIES
The market is part farmstand and part gourmet food store: a classic Hamptons dichotomy. The low-slung building is white and pretty, with a forest green awning on one end and large white cotton umbrellas standing sentinel over the picnic tables out front. Inside, strands of tiny globe lights criss-cross from the wooden rafters. The cool cement floor is painted a dusty moss green. Tables hold baskets of produce: shiny purple fairytale eggplant the size of your thumb, knobby heirloom tomatoes striped red and orange, bunches of carrots—still streaked with dirt from the ground—propped up at jaunty angles.
Read moreDOUBLE STREUSEL COFFEE CAKE
It’s only 10 AM when she gets back to the apartment, but there’s music coming from the end of the hallway. It’s Martha and the Vandellas, which means Hadley’s in a particularly good mood, because Motown is her happy music (followed by reggaeton and anything by the Rolling Stones). She drops her keys with a clang in the glazed ceramic Astier de Villatte bowl that sits on their entryway table and sits down on the rattan bench to untie her shoes and peel off her socks.
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