What do other people do with their camera phones? Mine is always loaded with pictures of food.
It’s not time for summer food and my enthusiasm for winter food is waning, so I go back to the start of fall and start a slide show:
Apples spread out on a table at a farmer’s market.
Cheeseburgers on the griddle at Johnson’s in Siler City
A huge BLT at Merritt’s Store & Grill in Chapel Hill.
The West Indies crab salad at Crook’s Corner.
A grilled cheese sandwich and a beer at Triple C Brewery in Charlotte.
Hot chicken from Bolton’s and butter pecan ice cream from Jeni’s in Nashville.
Oh, those oysters! At the Southern Foodways Symposium in Oxford, they heated oyster shells on the grill, topped each with an oyster and filled the shell with a ladle of sizzling sauce of oyster juice and butter.
There’s that clown cookie from the Sweet Shop in Albemarle. It was cute, but I really want another cream horn.
Sunlight glows through the towering meringue on a slice of coconut cream pie at the Rosebriar in Albemarle.
There’s the barbecue plate at the Mallard Creek Presbyterian Church barbecue, with Brunswick stew and apple sauce.
There’s the barbecue plate at First Christian Church in Dilworth, with the egg roll and the big cup of barbecue sauce one of the cooks gave me.
There are the ribs and coleslaw from . . . darn, can’t remember. They look good, though.
That paper cone of fresh potato chips was followed by Cambodian beef with lemon grass at the New Southern Kitchen in Whiteville.
Another barbecue plate: Allen & Son in Pittsboro.
The row of onion rings as big as life preservers is on the counter at Cow Fish.
A plate of migas, eggs cooked with tortillas, is in my kitchen on a Saturday morning.
That big pan of paella topped with clams, mussels and lobster claws is at my neighbor’s on a Saturday night.
Steamed buns with pork belly and fresh soy milk is at chef Eddie Huang’s sandwich place, BaoHaus, near Union Square in New York.
The Mongolian Tofu sandwich is at No. 7 Sub Shop at the Ace Hotel in New York.
Chicken-fried tofu bubbles in my black cast-iron skillet.
Molecular magic makes a whole egg yolk, like a gleaming yellow ball, hold its shape on a beef tartare platter at The Admiral in Asheville.
A whole Dungeness crab rests in front of a six-pack of Rogue Dead Guy.
There are the French fries served with bearnaise and the pimento cheese plate at the Glass Onion in Charleston.
Bourbon maker Julian Van Winkle pours 20-year-old Pappy Van Winkle at . . . well, given the mania for a single taste of Pappy, maybe I shouldn’t go into details.
There’s the Cuban lechon asado with garlic sauce and plantains at Havana, my favorite restaurant in West Palm Beach, Fla.
Ah, and there’s the last one: Flank steak and Catalan tomato bread from my grill.
Looks like summer. Time to start again.
Join the food conversation at Kathleen Purvis’ blog I’ll Bite, at obsbite.blogspot.com, or follow her on Twitter, @kathleenpurvis.
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