“I was very nearly born on Long Island. It would have been the perfect story – I’ve long considered the small town of Quiogue, a little blip on the map of the North Fork between Westhampton and Quogue – to be my home and though it would have been the perfect beginning to a life-long love affair, this is not fiction, and I prefer the truth.”
I’ve mentioned my home on Long Island numerous times on this blog before, though I haven’t mentioned it yet this year, even though I’m leaving in two hours to fly through Philadelphia and finally arrive there. I don’t know what it is: somehow, this year more than most — perhaps because I was away last year or because I’ve finally forged a life here that seems like my own — Paris has felt more like home to me than it ever has before.
As I walked around my neighborhood yesterday, accomplishing the last handful of errands I had before my whirlwind summer (they always seem to be whirlwinds, don’t they?) of New York – Coullons – Paziols – Toulouse – Bordeaux – La Rochelle – Mont St-Michel – Paris – Warsaw and who knows where in between, I started to see Paris again, for what I knew it was last year when I decided to move here again, for what it’s so easy to forget it can be, when lost in the day-to-day.
I was hired, recently, as a writer for a Long Island cooking publication, and as a first article, I was asked to write a bio, the story of how a girl who was very nearly born on the island ended up in Paris. And so I started thinking about my first home, the one I’ll be visiting again in just a few short days, after crashing on the couch in NYC for a split-second, the one that felt like the most stable part of my childhood and adolescence, marked by relocation.
I haven’t seen Long Island in June in years, but it used to be my favorite time to be there: the beginning of summer, before the summer people arrive, afternoons of sitting by the pool with my sister devouring stacks of library books and glasses of iced coffee. It will be different, this year, I know: we’re not children anymore, and in a strange change of events, I’m the only one without a job for the three weeks I’ll be home. For a moment, when I was still wracked with the stress and anxiety of my thesis and my defense, I forgot how much I wanted to return there, and looked forward to my trip as a fact rather than an event to count down to, like I would have as a child.
Still, Long Island brings back memories — food memories, of course — and as I wrote the article for Hampton Chef Society, it took no effort at all to remember some of the more important ones.
I’ve made this chicken for you before: a knockoff of my favorite dish from Baby Moon Restaurant in Westhampton. I made it a few days ago for a dinner party, and with the first bite, memories came flooding back. It’s all very Proustian, and exactly the way it should be.
Balsamic Chicken over Salad
1 egg
1 tbsp. balsamic vinegar
2 tbsp. olive oil
salt and pepper
1 boneless, skinless chicken breast
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 tsp. olive oil
a few handfuls of spring greens
1 endive, chopped
two tomatoes, sliced
salt and pepper
Make the dressing: bring a cup of water to a boil, then remove from the heat and pour into a coffee mug. Submerge the egg in it for 40 seconds, then rinse with cold water, crack and separate. Dispose of the white. Into the yolk, whisk the vinegar, oil, salt and pepper. Refrigerate until ready to use.
Place the chicken breast in the 1/4 cup of balsamic vinegar in a shallow dish. Allow to marinate for 15 minutes, turning halfway through.
Rinse and prep the salad ingredients, salting the lettuce. Heat a grill, grill pan, or frying pan over high heat. Brush the chicken breast with the oil.
If grilling, grill the chicken breast until grilled through and charred. If using a grill pan or frying pan, cook the chicken breast over high heat, flipping after two minutes, so that both sides are charred and browned. Reduce the heat to low and cover, cooking until cooked through, about another minute or two. When the thickest part of the chicken breast feels slightly firm to the touch (like a well-done steak), it’s done.
Place the salad greens, tomatoes and peppers in a bowl. Dress with the dressing (you may have more than you need; the rest can be reserved in a covered container.)
consider that recipe ‘stolen” e.m.