An absolutely perfect plum.

Saltie’s ‘The Famous Bun’: on that sea-salty in-house foccacia were thick slices of crumbly sharp cheddar, crisp lettuce leaves, rich summer tomato and snappy homemade pickles; the latter two leaked their respective juices into a healthy spread of thick mayonnaise, making a sauce awash with deliciousness.

A salad of firm-ripe avocado and richly sweet beets with basil and tender green beans, sharp with chile and lemon: it was beautiful and bold. Better yet, though, was a salad of those same (absurdly sweet) beets, roasted and then tossed with tomato, capers, basil, shaved parmesan, and croutons. I nearly died.

But things just kept getting better. Yes, better.

Because I have rediscovered corn. How have I not had corn on the cob in so long? I suppose because I never had reason to believe it would so, so fine. My trusty farmers provided me with the season’s finest, and it was literally candy-sweet dredged in butter.

And the salad I made with the corn, you ask? (Because of course I also made a salad). The one with heirloom tomato and sweet onion with thyme and basil? Seriously, it was fucking out of control.

I nearly died. Again. I ate it with a slice of toasted baguette spread with dijon and piled with rare roast beef, and my heart stood still.