The first social outing (weeks and weeks ago now) since quarantine felt like an inching return to normalcy—a tip-toe towards the ordinary, towards days filled with spontaneity and people and summertime routines. As I sat in the backyard of friends who live the next town over, their twin girls napping inside and their tiny dog yapping and carousing happily around my feet, I tipped my chair back and closed my eyes for just a moment, my head tilted towards the sun. I could smell the chlorine from the swimming pool behind me—the water a dazzling, fluorescent aquamarine—and a fruity, yeasty scent drifting up from two glasses of Nectar Blender IPA sitting on the table. (That is Greenport Harbor Brewery’s latest summer release: a hazy-looking beer with a blend of hops, citrus, tropical fruits, and milk sugar.)
There was no hugging or touching. None of the casual elbow-bumping that would normally happen as we all bustled around each other, ducking in and out of the house to refill our glasses or grab a handful of chips. We didn’t make dinner together, standing around the grill and carrying platters of sliced zucchini and peppers drizzled in olive oil, or marinated steaks and ears of corn, to and from the kitchen. We weren’t laughing and shouting across the lawn as the boys tossed a frisbee, or crowding around the teak table on the deck when it came time to put out cutlery and light the citronella candles and argue over who gets to choose the music.
But it was something! It was real life. It was being close to people, seeing them smile and gesticulate and breathe and be—without the pixelation of a computer screen or the tinny audio of a phone call.
And it was driving home in the waning afternoon light, watching the cars line up for the ferry, the wait three blocks long the way it always is come July. It was listening to music with the windows down and packing a bag to go somewhere, tossing in a blackberry seltzer and an extra sweatshirt for the first time in weeks.
And that evening, instead of cooking dinner, there was take-out from a very excellent restaurant tucked behind a curve of the main road on Shelter Island. It’s equally cozy in winter as it is cheerful in summertime: the garden out front bustling with activity as the footsteps of diners crunch on the crushed shell walkway, the bar aglow with candlelight, the worn wooden shingles and ivy-covered sign reminding me of Nantucket streets.
The best thing to order is the crispy calamari salad (even Ina Garten agrees!). As it turns out, dishes with the word crispy in the title don’t travel particularly well, but we attempted it anyway. It has a bed of frisee tossed with slivered cucumbers and chives and an addictive gingery carrot dressing. On top rests a handful of fried calamari and the finishing touch: a pile of crispy fried ribbons of carrot.
The menu is small and simple—you can get moules frites or Montauk halibut and clams in a fennel broth or a very good steak. They make a killer bolognese sauce (veal and heavy cream being the operative ingredients in the traditional Italian way) and pastrami-spiced ribs and some cocktails that taste alcohol-less in the best way (my particular favorite is called the Machete—a twist on a margarita made with tequila, Pamplemousse liqueur, a tiny bit of smoky and spicy ancho chili liqueur, Luxardo, and lime juice).
Dessert isn’t an easy thing to do, takeout-wise, as so much of it is temperature sensitive (warm pie and cold ice cream, say) and a bit more delicate. But the summery options are so enticing: fresh strawberry shortcake with whipped lemon cream and strawberry rhubarb crisp with a walnut streusel topping and creamy ricotta cheesecake topped with fresh strawberries.
See the theme? If you’re finding yourself venturing out into the world of takeout more and more—and starting to support and revisit favorite spots—do what we did and make your own dessert. it’s better off in the homemade category. Since all the strawberry menu options sounded so good, I stuck to an old favorite: an easy, fruit-forward option that makes the most of summer berries. The trick behind it is that, rather than cooking all the berries in the filling, you reserve most of them, cooking only a quarter and then tossing the warm cooked berries with fresh sliced ones. The result is fresh strawberry flavor combined with a juicy, jammy texture.
The general idea for the filling method comes from—of all places!—the website archives of Land o’ Lakes butter (don’t ask why I was searching around there, but so be it!) and I’ve tinkered with it until I reached this present form. I use a regular pie crust rather than the shortbread one they call for, but you could certainly go that route (or a graham cracker crust). Rose Levy Berenbaum has an excellent blueberry version of this pie which I’ve made many times and love—the method is the same. I’ve yet to try it with other fruits, but I imagine that peaches and other stone fruits would be great as well.
Fresh Strawberry Pie
Makes one 9” pie
For the crust
1 1/3 cups (160g) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
8 tablespoons (113g) very cold butter
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons ice cold water
For the filling + topping
5 cups strawberries, hulled
1 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 tablespoon lemon zest
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
Preheat oven to 425°F.
In a large bowl or food processor, combine the flour, salt, and baking powder. Once mixed, cut in the butter in chunks until the mixture is in coarse crumbs. Drizzle in the vinegar and ice water and mix until the dough just comes together. Add more water as needed if the dough is too dry. Press the dough into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap, and chill for at least 1 hour (you can also make it ahead and freeze it).
Roll out the dough to a 10-inch round, and transfer it to a 9-inch pie plate. Crimp the edges of the crust, prick the bottom and sides with a fork, and then freeze for at least 10 minutes.
Line the crust with foil or parchment and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake for 20 minutes, then carefully remove the foil and weights, and bake for another 10 minutes, or until the crust is a light golden brown. Remove and let cool fully.
Mash 1 cup of the berries lightly with a fork or wooden spoon. Add 1/2 cup water.
In a medium saucepan, combine the sugar, cornstarch, lemon zest, and mashed strawberry/water mixture. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens, and come to a full boil. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla extract and salt. Let cool for 15 minutes.
Fold the remaining strawberries into the cooked strawberry mixture, then pour into the cooled pie crust (if you want a neater presentation, you can arrange the fresh berries whole in the pie crust then pour the cooked berry mixture over them). Chill the pie for at least 1 hour to let the filling set, or simply let it sit at room temperature for an hour or two.
Serve with lightly sweetened whipped cream (I like to fold in some lemon zest here too), or vanilla ice cream.