It’s early. The sun hasn’t risen yet and I’m tripping over shadows left in the house. Silence is disturbed with every step I take. This is one of my favourite times of the day. Barely dark, so quiet I can still hear echoes of yesterday as life gently sleeps all around me. The brisk early morning rush of life.
The early morning in summer is one of the special moments of life I attack with abandon. Sleep is forsaken for the chance to see the soft yellow sun lift up over the horizon and break free. The colour of the sky is bruised blue-black and covers up all the imperfections that make her so beautiful. I could watch that beautiful beginning every day. And I’m constantly afraid of missing something. Anything.
I spread the hours out like a storybook on the ground in front of me, pointing out the potential milestones along the way. The moments I don’t want to overlook or pass by and never get the chance to experience again. It’s the fear that drives me. The chance to create memories in our way. Just a chance. With my wife.
In the summer I start early and indulge often, or where I can. A tall cup of coffee with the sun rising on the dock listening to the water splash around me. A walk with my wife to greet the day and move. The small stuff, all of it. Any of it. Breakfast on the porch with the birds singing our song. It starts early and keeps on.
The day takes on the pace we set for it and moves through the stages with us. We spend it together and with friends or alone. I bring out food along the way to hold us over until dinner. We’ll share a drink and food and a laugh. It’s one of the perks of summer, spending it together outside. Spending it how we choose.
Weekends during the summer seem to have their own character and feel. Identifiably unmistakable. They’re slower and longer, yet more hectic. The light of the day shines brighter and stretches longer. I remember back to a time when you couldn’t keep me inside the house as I chased away the light with my friends and only came home when I heard that familiar call from my mom.
The same holds true today. In this day. We work harder and longer outside in order to appreciate those hours inside. Together. By the time we head inside to unwind and share a meal, we’ve earned it. We’re ready to indulge. Again. I know I am.
I find it easier to indulge in summer since we work it off. We’re always outside doing, like we did years before. Not watching. Doing. I bring out this Panna Cotta which perfectly suits the hot days we’re enveloped in. It’s meant to cool us down and awaken our senses. And it does. It’s fresh and local and tastes like summer.
Living in Canada I appreciate the distinctly different seasons for the charm and beauty in them. But when I’m afforded a particularly warm and long summer, I appreciate it. Sometimes I’d rather it not end. More long hours spent with people that appreciate us with foods meant for summer. Ice cream, sorbet, fruits and salads all written for the pages of summer. Written for us.
One day the time will come that twenty years have escaped me and rushed on by and I won’t get the opportunity to indulge and get lost in a moment like I do now. So I take it all in and get lost in that brisk early rush of life and indulge in the beauty that presents itself to me.
From my kitchen to yours, happy eating!
Vanilla & Yogurt Panna Cotta
- 500 ml heavy cream
- 50 grams of sugar
- 3 sheets gelatine
- 100 grams yogurt
- 2 cups strawberries
- 2 tbsp. superfine sugar
- 3 tbsp. lemon juice
- In a medium saucepan add the heavy cream and sugar and stir until dissolved and bring to a boil. Meanwhile, soak the gelatine with ice cold water. When the cream has boiled, remove it from the heat and stir in the softened gelatine. Stir to dissolve.
- Pour into a clean bowl and let rest until room temperature. Add in the yogurt and stir until combined. Pour into four glasses or ramekins and move to fridge to set, about an hour.
- Meanwhile, add the strawberries, sugar and juice to a blender and pulse until blended. Add to top of set cream and serve.