Quick, Before Summer Ends

Welcome! And for those of you who are new here, hello.

Our Amagansett House is about making a life in an old house by the sea—the pleasures and the absurdities, the rooms and gardens, feeding a family, raising children, and trying to make everyday feel a little easier and a little more beautiful.

I started writing it last September, and somehow, it is now the #5 global bestseller in Home & Garden on Substack. What even!

Two or three times a week, I tackle some domestic dilemma—or something that has been rattling around in my head in one of my Basket Case Essays.

And every Monday, I send out, Meal & Moods, my weekly free post: part journal, part meal plan, and part appetite-whetter for whatever I’m getting up to that week.

Which, this week, appears to be everything I failed to fit into summer.

On Friday we went to the most charming lobster bake—with more lobbies than I have ever seen in one place, a mountain of clams and mussels, and children running feral in the dark. Even a steady drizzle couldn’t dampen the fun.

It helped that I was wearing my Stutterheim raincoat, which may be the single item of clothing people ask me about most. Here is my hot raincoat tip: buy the long style in Men’s. It covers you practically head to toe, which is what you actually want from a raincoat. Michael has the same one. We look like two Scandinavian fishermen when it rains, but we are dry Scandinavian fishermen.

Tomorrow, while the forecast is cooperating, a friend is giving me a sailing lesson—my first since I was a child, when I got my earliest taste of freedom sailing a little pram around Sarasota Bay. There was something thrilling about being handed a tiny boat and essentially told: off you go.

I’m curious to see how much of it comes back. Possibly none.

This week is also Michael’s birthday. Today I’m going to do a little shopping for him in the village, despite the fact that he loathes birthdays and would ideally like his to pass unnoticed by everyone, including me.

And, as I was saying, I have entered the annual SUMMER-IS-ENDING-QUICK, DO-EVERYTHING phase of August.

There are still things on my summer list. Sailing, obviously. One night camping with the kids, which Louise, my eleven-year-old has informed me is actually glamping. But I believe that sleeping somewhere other than your own bed and having to locate a flashlight qualifies. This has become an annual tradition.

And my beach pajamas!

I finally got the top design quirks figured out. This sounds like a very minor achievement unless you have ever attempted to make clothes. Clothing design, I have discovered, is a terrific way to intensify your perfectionism.

But my summer uniform is finally exactly as I imagined it, and now it must be properly photographed before summer disappears. At present, the photographic record consists mostly of selfies taken while rushing out the door to various events. I had so much fun styling and wearing these all summer that they really have been a little dream come true.

And naturally, now that I’ve finally perfected the pattern, I’ve started thinking about the fabrics I could have my beach pajamas made up in for fall. There is apparently no cure. I’m also investigating what it would take to make a small batch of these is various sizes to sell.

Meanwhile, We Need to Get Organized

I just looked at my lineup for the week and discovered that I have potentially two shopping/checklist posts coming your way.

This is new territory. I’ve actually never done a shopping-oriented post, but I’ve been inspired by fellow Substacker About & Out, who recommended the above next-level school supplies, and whose in-the-know guides to events for children in New York and the Hamptons I find very useful. It made me think: there are all sorts of things I’m constantly researching, buying, testing, packing, losing and buying again. Why not put them in one place?

So I’ve started a ShopMy, partly for ease ( I spend a fair amount of time answering DMs asking for sources—and this seems more efficient) and partly because, if I’m going to spend an annoying amount of time comparing lunchboxes, I may as well make a little something for my trouble.

First up will be one list with a foot still firmly planted in summer: my camping newsletter, or why I’m determined to sneak in this mini trip before school starts (and our packing list).

Then comes the opposite mood entirely: BACK TO SCHOOL. GET SERIOUS.

Lunchboxes. Backpacks. Water bottles. Clothing. Shoes. Supplies. Labels.

I’ll include our favorite back-to-school books, too. And my back-to-school checklist for grownups.

The Lunchbox Situation

But first, because we are already heading in this direction, I thought I’d share my favorite lunchbox-inspiration cookbooks here today.

You may think it slightly unhinged to own multiple books devoted to children’s lunches. There is another one currently on its way to me, which does not strengthen my defense.

But the whole family likes looking through them, even though I have yet to cut a sandwich into a panda. (Okay, that’s a lie. I may have cut a few into mushrooms, leaves and hearts.)

There is something oddly satisfying about the lunchbox challenge. First there is the packaging aesthetic—which, let’s admit, is half the fun. Then one must make it reasonably healthy. Then something they will actually eat. Then somehow keep the whole operation fresh until noon.

It is basically a small daily exercise in industrial design.

I also love Fanny Singer and Greta Caruso’s The Green Spoon, a genuinely helpful companion to relentless business of feeding children.

A few lunchbox favorites:

The Lunchbox Bible by Julia Tellidis and Lauren Skora

More Please! Food Kids Love by Jane Kim Nicholson

Everyday Bento: 50 Cute and Yummy Lunches to Go

I occasionally share cookbooks in my Meals & Moods posts. They appear—like vases. baskets, and vintage clothing —to be something else I attract.

I’ve also previously rounded up my children’s favorite cookbooks, if you’re looking for things they might actually want to cook themselves.

Also, this week I’m hoping to post either here or on my Instagram: my blackberry jam recipe (finally the way I like it which is somewhat tart, runny, with 1/4 fruit added back in after straining) and Michael’s tomato sauce, both currently being stockpiled for winter like we have received intelligence of an approaching siege.

Which brings us to what we’re actually eating.

Meals & Moods

Monday — Gone Sailing

Mood: Remembering how to sail. Or discovering that I do not remember how to sail.

Kids: chicken cutlets, smashed roasted potatoes, cucumber salad and cherries.

Grown-ups: Roast chicken, tomato galette and a green salad, mozzarella

Tuesday — City Day

Mood: Everyone in different directions.

Kids: Salmon, rice, string beans from the garden, with a side salad.

Grown-ups: Out to dinner.

Wednesday — August Denial

Mood: There are still weeks of summer left if nobody looks at a calendar.

Kids: Pork ramen, carrots and pineapple.

Grown-ups: Kitchen sink pasta involving whatever the garden is currently producing faster than we can eat it, salad with peaches and cheese

Thursday — Michael’s Birthday

Mood: Absolutely not celebrating Michael’s birthday.

Dinner: TBD.

He loathes birthdays, so naturally I am trying to devise the precise amount of birthday that does not feel like a birthday. This may be more complicated than throwing a party.

Friday — Friends for Supper

Mood: One more summer dinner outside, please.

Kids: Mac and cheese.

Grown-ups: Crudo, spaghetti alle vongole, roasted peppers and a very crisp green salad.

The children get macaroni and cheese while the adults eat crudo and Vongole, which is either excellent hosting or evidence that I have finally understood my audience.

Saturday — Dinner Out With Family

Mood: Kitchen closed.

Sunday — Camping! (Or, ahem, glamping)

Mood: Into the woods.

Dinner: Hot dogs, with all of the fixins, smores, etc.

The etc. is doing quite a lot of work here. I’ll report back.

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