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July 20th, 2026
Meet in the Middle?
Any spots u have in mind?
My go to is on Cortelyou but that’s
not really in the middle
I guess Windsor Terrace? Idek
Connecticut Muffin?
Connecticut Muffin? I’m dead
That’s so cheugy
It’s giving middle school
But I’m Game
Logan and I met at Connecticut Muffin to catch each other up on the past six years of our lives.
“Hey Dude!” He said as I walked up to his table. We haven’t spoken in years, but as soon as we made eye contact any sense of nervousness or awkwardness dissipated. Like being reunited with family, I immediately relaxed in his presence. After all this is someone who has known me since I was six years old.
“Is it weird if I tell you about my sex life?” I said.
“Tell me everything,” he smiled.
Logan and I had a decade long mouse-and-mouse “romance” for the time we went to school together at the same Brooklyn private school grades one through 12. In second grade, I used to rub his freshly buzzed head and call him “fuzzy.” He famously gave me a green and white pipe-cleaner ring under the play structure of the rooftop yard at our lower school. During our reunion he confessed he used to sleep with the ring underneath his pillow. I think I liked him back, but I was too aloof to understand what was going on.
In third grade, we had different teachers. Jumping up to peek through the small window of the door to my third grade classroom, I’d see his head bob into frame from my desk in the classroom down the hall from his. My third grade teacher told me it wasn’t appropriate and that he had to stop. I was embarrassed and pushed my feelings down. Concealed in an envelope made of green construction paper, I gave him a letter in secret.
Present for you it says.
have to open to see hwo its from
And then, inside:
HEY DUDE! LOVE, MAIJA
From the one you like and hwo likes you
I guess Logan must have returned the letter to me during a forbidden visit to my third grade classroom because I found it in my box of keepsakes from childhood. I also found a pink rubber duck with red hearts on it that he gave me in 6th grade during Valentine’s Day. Good to know I haven’t changed at all in the past two decades. Love letters have always been my MO. I mean, every blog post is essentially a love letter to whoever I’m crushing on at the moment.
I hold onto everything. I have a note my summer crush Henry left on my car once, the guitar strap he gave me for my birthday. I have a box full of every keepsake from my relationship with my ex in an old shoe box in my room. I wear the silver bracelet we got together at the Santa Monica flea market everyday. I sleep with the heart shaped rock Butterfly Boy found during one of our swims in Positano on my chest when I need to be reminded of our brief romance. I’m probably never going to take off the blue heart shaped earrings we got together in Ischia.
In sixth grade Logan and I were good friends. I had a crush on him, but I told him I liked someone else. I remember I was always upset when we didn’t get to work together on a class project, particularly in our world history class. In seventh grade, he had a crush on the popular girl in our class. I’d already stopped growing and towered over him. He has a memory of discussing our Overland adventure trips over the summer during class. Maybe it was when we were supposed to be summarizing the chapter of To Kill a Mockingbird we read for homework. We were great friends.
Outside of the city, in the back of a moving van traveling around Jackson Hole, Wyoming—if the stars ever aligned for us it was then—out of the confinement of our 60 person class in Park Slope, Brooklyn, at the very beginning of eighth grade. When I brought up the trip at Connecticut Muffin, he immediately knew what I was referring to.
“Was it the night when we went to go listen to the elk calls?”
“Yup,” I said. “I think we held hands, or maybe I hallucinated that.” I thought something was going to happen, but it didn’t.
“No, we did hold hands, I think,” he said. I just remember it was pitch black and we were walking under the stars together on a path of scattered rocks.
We’d also slept on each others’ shoulders during the van rides between group excursions and took multiple selfies on the polaroid camera I brought on the trip to show off. There were a few points during that week I thought we were going to kiss. I could feel it, I swear! But nothing ever happened. Up until meeting up with him a few weeks ago, I had settled on the fact that it was all in my head, but talking with him provided reassurance. He had felt it too.
In high school we saw each other every single morning. We were in the same advising group. I’m pretty sure I used to walk in and stare at him with a gaping mouth. Recalling our friendship at the time he said “we were close.”
“No we weren’t I said, I barely spoke to you.”
“But we always had each other’s backs,” he said. “We were always looking out for each other.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said. “I guess we always…” I moved my finger from my temple and gestured towards his. I didn’t have the words to characterize the sense of knowing we shared, but I agreed it was always there.
No idea what came over me. I famously asked Logan to prom in the middle of the cafeteria senior year and he turned me down. One of those situations where the story in my head took over, so I walked right up to him and asked him. After I’d done it I couldn’t stop thinking: what just happened.
“I would’ve taken you to prom,” he said. “It would’ve been so fun.” “If you’d asked me earlier I would’ve gone with you, but I was already going with someone else.”
“Don’t even tell me that,” I said. “I’m sad our younger selves missed out on a connection for all those years.” But, his response was mostly validating. It made my inner child feel good to know that someone cared about her.
As he said, he was “always looking out.”
We reminisced on what it would have been like to get together for pre-prom pictures before heading over. Our parents and siblings are all good friends. My dad and his mom still call on the phone to talk soccer. The pictures would’ve been great too. His tie would have matched my blue dress. We would have killed it with our matching blue eyes and freckles. But, I’m glad things turned out the way they did. Reuniting with him now as an old friend is like a Christmas present.
For as long as I can remember, Logan’s dream was to be a professional soccer player. As he said, he missed countless birthday parties, and school events and at times, sacrificed academic success just to chase his dream. Syracuse came knocking with a D1 offer, and he couldn’t say no. So he went. But the reality wasn’t as good as what he’d imagined. He was one of the youngest on the team. He didn’t play very much.
When the kid competing for his spot shoved him to the ground in practice his senior year, he broke his arm in half, which required surgery. He ruptured his quad. The consecutive injuries, the competition between teammates, all of it culminated in the end of joy in a sport he had loved for as long as I’ve known him.
“It forced me to make the painful decision to pivot.” He said.
And that summer—that summer after graduating he went out to Chappaquiddick—that island off Cape Cod and fucked off for a while. I just did the same thing when I bought a ticket to Rome, when I up and moved to LA for 6 years. When I booked it to Montauk as soon as I graduated high school. In Chappaquiddick, he reconnected with the water, with fishing, with cooking, things he’s always loved, but things that have also always taken a backseat. He finally had the space to explore.
Logan worked as a wilderness tour guide for the Trustees of Reservations Massachusetts. And, the cherry on top of the summer of self-discovery was an epic meet cute. On the last day of work as a guide, he toured a family with a few young kids. Accompanied by their mother and a family friend helping to look after the children, they took Logan’s Ecosystem Jeep Tour on a whim. He and the babysitter hit it off during the tour. While the kids sat in the Jeep with their mom, they went for a swim together and that broke the ice. During the ride back, he asked her to sit up front with him. When he thanked them for the tour, he never got her number.
“I was like, I cannot go home until I get her number.”
He’d been coordinating the tour with the kids’ mother, so he had her contact saved. So he went for it. He texted her, asking about Mikayla. Waiting for her to respond he was knuckle biting.
“I did not think it was going to work tbh,” he said.
I put my hand over my mouth.
Well, clearly it worked out because Kayla and Logan are together to this day. Per the mom’s response, Kayla was hoping to get Logan’s number too. When he told me the story, I put my hand over my heart. He’s such a sweetheart. And more than that, I knew then what my younger self had seen in him. This is your sign to shoot your shot if you’re looking for one.
I told him about meeting my ex the night of the Undie Run at UCLA my senior year, about all my Italy adventures over the last month.
“They were both such hotties. Florence guy and the other one. Butterfly Boy was so my guy. He was so silly. We had so much fun together. And he had the sickest tats. I’m actually still obsessed with him, but I think he’s not that interested in talking so much anymore, which is fair enough.”
“Yeah, I mean that sucks, but if he asked you to go to Amsterdam you’re getting on that fucking plane.”
“I mean duh.”
“I’m glad you’ve realized how big the world is,” he said.
“I mean, yeah. I honestly felt so undesirable in high school, but at this point I’m overwhelmed. I have a date every day this week.”
“No one should feel like that. And as you should.”
Over our conversation, we discovered that we have literally so much in common. We both love the water. He caught his first fish on the Gowanus Canal. I grew up surfing Rockaway and Montauk. He spent a summer working in Chappaquiddick as a wilderness guide. I spend summers in Montauk working as a surf instructor. We both need to escape the city and move our bodies every day otherwise we go insane. He was never the best D1 soccer player at Syracuse, I never made it past AYSO soccer, but we both work really fucking hard at what we care about.
As he put it, “we have the same heart.”
We’re both sensitive and romantic. We don’t like to party. We love love. We love nature. We love sports. We love our friends. We love our siblings and our parents. We grew up in Brooklyn. We went to the same school for 12 years. We’re both running our own businesses. And in the spirit of food and love and adventure, we’ve collaborated to create a date night recipe for you all to try. Happy August Crushers!
by Logan Mcgraw of On the Water Magazine
This dish is one of my favorite summer classics, and when I met my girlfriend Mikayla, I’d like to think it was surely the thing that won her over. It was our third date, and I wanted something flavorful, approachable, and expressive of that salty air that truly sets in late summer. The reason I love steamed clams and this dish, is that it’s an impressive one and done, all in one pot recipe. You continuously build flavor in the same cooking vessel, accentuated by fresh clam juices, resulting in an herbaceous, umami, and briny finish.
There are many ways you can take this dish in regard to flavor bases; get creative and cook with what interests you. Having grown up in Brooklyn, I have always been exposed to cross pollinated flavors and broken rules. It’s what makes food and life enjoyable, although in this case I am highlighting simplicity and foundational flavors. There’s magic on both ends!
Who wants to be all prim and proper when sitting down to connect with someone you are really interested in? I say skip that step, and go straight for the messy dinner that satisfied both Mikayla and I’s bellies and souls that night. It’s the perfect test to see who’s comfortable, and who’s hungry.
The cooking process takes a total of about 30 minutes, allowing for plenty of conversation and the company of your date to be thoroughly enjoyed. After, your kitchen and living space will be filled with one of life’s splendors, the smell of sautéed garlic, shallot, and onion.
Now head out during low tide to your nearest salt marsh, dig some fresh clams, and provide warmth and love to your partner through one of the best summer dishes one can make.
This is the most important component of your dish, as it is the foundation of flavor that the clams will cook in. Begin by sautéing minced garlic, shallot and onion in a pot. Work a low to medium heat and let these sweat (you are looking for a translucent softness). Throw in parsley stems, crushed red pepper flake, and a slice of lemon peel to build more flavor. Continue to stir to avoid burning.
After you have your base of flavor where you’d like it, we go in with our butter. I used a quarter stick (unsalted), but feel free to use more or less, there’s no better marriage than fresh seafood and butter. Allow for the butter to add an additional layer of flavor to your sautée. Once your “sauce” is fully emulsified, add in a cup of white wine. It’s important that you bring this up to a boil and reduce on a low to medium heat until the alcohol has evaporated. You will smell it cook off.
I was cooking for my family in this recipe and used three dozen littleneck clams. A dozen or two dozen should be more than enough for two people. When acquiring your clams, if you’re not digging them yourself, ask your market for littlenecks or cherrystones. These are both the same species, and are the smaller, easier eating option compared to the bigger clams more widely known as quahogs. If you are digging them yourself, assure that you carry a proper permit and that the body of water you are fishing is properly flushed on each tide. Clams are bivalves, and eat through water filtration, often taking in food and toxic properties in a polluted area.
Once your broth has reduced, add in your clams and cover the pot for them to steam. You don’t want the clams fully submerged in the liquid (although a few can be). What we’re looking for is for them to steam in the flavorful liquid of that broth, permeating each clam with intense flavor. As soon as the clams open, which will happen in a minute or two, I remove them to prevent over-cooking.
Let all your clams open, and be sure to check if there are any that didn’t open. If some didn’t, it likely means they perished on their way to you and will get you sick if you eat them, throw them out. Once your broth has steamed all the clams, its flavor should likely be enriched by all the clam juice released during opening. Taste for salt, and reduce further if you please.
Health is wealth, am I right? I had some beautiful local zucchinis laying around that I turned into a simple summer appetizer. Sliced thin and seared in a pan with olive oil, one side stays down and they never flip! Once they’re golden crispy on one side, serve with lemon juice and fresh parsley and arugula. Like fried zucchini without the guilt! Absolute banger.
Heat a bowl of your broth, serve some clams over the top, garnish with fresh parsley, and get a piece of crispy baguette ready. No spoon or fork needed, just your hands and a willingness to get messy. Enjoy!
Maison Premier Williamsburg: brightest and cleanest oysters and clams I’ve had in NYC.
Saint Julivert: I spent over two years running the kitchen here. I still frequent some of the most internationally creative, flavorful, and timeless seafood I’ve ever had.
Lure Fishbar: Never misses. Shrimp cocktail, sushi, lobster egg rolls. You name it, they do it well.
Abuqir: A fun adventure with friends and finally somewhere where you can eat first with your eyes and then enjoy the tasty food. Lots of options with fish selection and preparation.
Che Li East Village: A proper Shanghainese spot, and some of the best crispy glazed eel I’ve ever had in my life. This place is worth checking out.
Florence: Ino for sandwiches after the Uffizi, Caffé Degli Innocenti’s breakfast combo, Gustapizza before sunset at Piazza Michelangelo, Vivoli for gelato & affogato in the center of town
Ischia: La Lucciola for breakfast by the water in Forio, Panificio Le Ventarole for fresh bread and pastries before heading to the beach at Negombo, Romantic dinner at Ristorante Onda Verde after a long day at the beach on Maroni
Amalfi & Positano: Trattoria Da Maria for a quick and yummy dinner in Amalfi (the best lemon tiramisu)
Sicily: Sfrigola for Arancini in Céfalu, il Bar della Piazetta in Trapani (the apricot croissant is to die) in Trapani Aglio e olio with a view at Molo 19 (only 11 Euro in Cefalu)
Como: Ross gelato, Dolciamo Pasticceria & Osteria del Gallo for the best pasta
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