Tonight’s menu
Dear table of ten, this is what I’m cooking for you tonight, in the order it reaches you.
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Course 1 of 5 First, the tomatoes, because it’s August and they won’t be this good again until next year. Thick toast rubbed with garlic, black olives, the last of the basil, a soft cheese torn over the top, and figs alongside for anyone who wants something sweet against the salt.
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Course 2 of 5 Then, potatoes from the fire. Small waxy potatoes and field mushrooms, roasted in the embers since four and tipped into the big wooden bowl. I bring it down the middle of the table myself. There’s nothing to do but pass it.
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Course 3 of 5 The pasta, ribbons I rolled before lunch, with little meatballs of pork and fennel, carried out in the green dish while it’s still too hot to hold. The candles go on about now.
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Course 4 of 5 Grains, and everyone at once. Farro with toasted almonds, soft eggs and pomegranate, and the last bowl of leaves. By this point nobody is waiting for anybody, which is how I know the evening is working.
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Course 5 of 5 Last, the pie. Fig and goat’s cheese, cut on the board in the dark, with something warm to drink. I don’t plate dessert. I put it in the middle and let the table finish it.
J.
Book this kind of eveningConcept menu: one real evening, photographed from golden hour to candlelight.





