This week, it wasn't just about eating well. Though I did eat well.
Doughnuts with Ben at
Doughnut Plant, chicken salad sandwiches with Kev at
Mile End.
An encore of April Bloomfield, this time at
The John Dory, where we had smoked haddock fritters, stuffed zucchini blossoms and more burrata (which was better at The Spotted Pig)...
But this weekend, we got out of the city to a magical place called
Buttermilk Falls Inn.
We ate and we drank, of course we did.
But the best part was being out in the country. With grass and crickets and fireflies. There was yoga and tennis and swimming.
And apple trees and ducks and dilapidated farms.
Sometimes the idea of running off to a faraway land sounds just about right, n'est-ce pas?