We grow strawberries in our container garden, and while there’s definitely a pride that comes along with eating something you grow yourself, there’s just no way in a New York City apartment to grow strawberries in sufficient quantity to ever be satisfied with the yield. Maybe in Queens. Like if you had one of those places with a big yard. But we already own the brooklynsupper domain, so we’re stuck here with our meager strawberry harvest for the present. But that’s ok, because strawberry season is in full swing at New York farmer’s markets, the first of the big three of summer produce (tomatoes and corn are the other two) to hit the stands, so we can still load up.
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It feels like I’ve been doing a lot of mothering lately, both of the growing baby living inside me, and my daughter who’s about to turn four. When she was a toddler things were in some ways easier–she just went with the flow–but now there are tough questions about life and death, how things work, and what things are. There are a lot of flat out “No’s,” whereas before there were so few, and even those were half-hearted. So it’s nice that this Mother’s Day, my third, we’re celebrating. There was a tear-inducing card about the things my daughter likes to do with me (making cake, riding the bus, and eating breakfast among them) and a surprise dinner out with my husband (complete with babysitter–thanks LMK). read more »