
By Paige Smith Orloff
JUST LAST WEEK, a Twitter friend turned me on to this video of punk’s godmother Patti Smith covering a song Debbie Boone made famous, “You Light Up My Life.” At the risk of overstatement, It’s brilliant, and there’s something so tender about the juxtaposition of song and singer, not to mention Smith’s tenderness with kids in the studio audience (the performance was for a kids’ variety show) that I had to watch it over and over. Here’s why.
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Paige Smith Orloff

By Paige Smith Orloff
I RETURNED FROM my summer travels with just a bit of dread. Not of unopened mail or calls to be returned: I feared my garden, and rightly. After only a week away, I found a state of explosion. You can see the results: tomatoes of every size and hue, giant mottled heirlooms, tiny red cherries and orange sungolds, some odd yellow plums and giant pastes. I managed to pick a good 15 pounds in about as many minutes. What’s cooking.

By Paige Smith Orloff
RETURNING READERS MAY remember last summer as the time of pie anxiety. After a cataclysmic conflict over crust, my mother and I foolishly faced off in a local pie contest and, well, let’s just say that neither of us felt like much of a winner by the end. Ever since, I seem to have been avoiding pie entirely, at least in my own kitchen. My recipe, instead, for Fruit Whatmachallit.

By Paige Smith Orloff
HOW CAN IT be that for years now, I’ve been missing out on the Scissor Sisters? What I know so far…

By Paige Smith Orloff
MOSTLY, I EAT summer corn with as little adornment as possible. I grill it, I boil it, add a bit of butter or extra virgin olive oil and flakey, crunchy sea salt, and–that’s it. I’m done. But there is this one exception…and it’s my contribution to Week 2 of the big cross-blog recipe swamp called Summer Fest. Hint: It’s a breakfast food that’s good anytime.

By Paige Smith Orloff
A FEW YEARS back, my family made its own venture into the wilderness, moving from the urban sprawl of Los Angeles to the expansive green hills of the Hudson Valley. It’s paradise, yet the climate can be wretched and unforgiving, the land hilly and full of stones. We marvel aloud at the tenacity and sheer strength of this area’s early settlers; we are awed by what they accomplished, and quite certain we, with our reliance on power tools, the internet, and central heating, would not have a prayer of replicating their achievements. Novelist and memoirist Gabrielle Burton shares her own amazement at the resilience of our forefathers and mothers in her lucid, provocative novel, Impatient With Desire. Here’s what I thought.

By Paige Smith Orloff
IS IT POSSIBLE to plant the right amount of zucchini? I planted 3 plants. THREE. I skipped any other summer squash altogether. I congratulated myself on my behavior: sober, sensible, even restrained. I had learned, I thought, from my elders, from my own past experiences…but here’s how it went.
By Paige Smith Orloff
CERTAINLY NOT PICTURES. Nope. As a friend told me a few weeks back, I’ve got a face for radio. And now, you can hear exactly what it looks like. As with everything, there’s a backstory…

By Paige Smith Orloff
JULY IS A SUPER MONTH when it comes to festivities: Picnics galore, BBQ on the Fourth, and then it’s time to channel your inner Parisienne come the 14th, Bastille Day. Here’s how I’m doing it.
By Paige Smith Orloff
MY FIRST PICNIC of the season is breathing down my neck: it’s the capper to the kids’ last day of school. Sounds lovely, right? Well, maybe for someone less spent than I am at the moment. With none of my own cooking creativity left to mine, I decided to delve into the archives here at TSP to see what past picnic resources I might unearth. Are you in need of outdoor eating support? Read on.
http://www.vimeo.com/12300775
By Paige Smith Orloff
FOR WELL OVER a year now, our family’s little sister, aka the Rock, has been telling just about everyone she meets all about her professional ambitions. You’ll never guess. Princess? (She’s got that covered.) Doctor? (Only when we’re at the pediatrician’s office, and she’s intrigued by the reflex hammer.) Mommy? (Well, yes, but there’s much more than that to life, she says...)
By Paige Smith Orloff
MY KIDS ARE exploding this spring, turning into ever-evolving, endlessly fascinating, newly reinvented versions of themselves. And though I try to pay attention, it seems that many days, I’m just hanging on for the ride. It goes like this:
















