gabriella gershenson

I just returned from a weekend with my parents, sister, and her boyfriend in the Berkshires (Massachusetts side). NB: If I continue to blog about my "life" as opposed to impersonal subjects, you will begin to notice a trend: I will write a lot about my mother's cooking. Interpret this as you will: grown up mama's girl? Bacholerette lifestyle, i.e. fridge full of condiments, eats her best home-cooked meals when visiting the parents? Both are not as far from the truth as they ought to be at this stage in my life. Anyway... back to the food.

We went to Tanglewood this afternoon for a program that included Mahler and Joshua Bell on violin. I should have saved my senses for the music (it was lovely) but I had spoiled myself by gorging on pre-concert al fresco lunch on the lawn. We've been going to Tanglewood since I was less than a year old (as my mom sentimentally recalled today) but as a family, we only recently got our sh*t together on the picnic front, and now bring those perfect meals I used to envy others for having.

Of course, it was my indefatigable mother (a cook) who threw it all together. Grilled marinated boneless chicken thighs, a salad (avocado, cucumber, radish, snow peas, parsely, feta and about a dozen other ingredients), roasted red peppers and eggplant, goat gouda and a perfect French bleu whose name eludes me (sorry) with baguette and some sauvignon blanc. (Although I still return home for food and pampering, I am old enough to drink with the folks and not have it be "cool".)

For dessert? A cold peach crostada, and half-nap under the rustling Lenox leaves. And yes, the music.