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It’s high summer, and stepping out into the July afternoon humidity feels roughly similar to taking a bath. The girls helicopter their arms, pretending to swim through the murky air as we head to the pool. The cicadas, ever heat-loving, drone so loudly they interrupt our evening conversations on the stoop. The leaves (and egg yolks) have gone pale from the heat, and the garden insists on a daily drenching.
In this heat, I’d like to forgo food altogether, or subsist on only fruit, but my stomach just isn’t having it. [Read more…]