Please don’t mistaken our summer ennui for blandness or meekness, it’s become apparent that less is more fulfilling then more. Less distractions to induce you, but rather a slipping into a more tender backdrop and connecting with the life forces of the rested surroundings only mother earth could offer, embracing more of a lasting charge than anything created in lab. A cowgirl lunch could never be flavorless when handpicked from loamy soil or from lengthy trees with a deft hand or kneaded by knuckles of a humbled being. Did I mention our local baker? In silence, in a soft corner away from any hustle and bustle, burly knobs knead dough in small batches that rise naturally with a fifty-year-old sourdough levain starter…how special is that? When cowgirls leading their mares and follies from the field to the barn and then corral together to snack before their next task, well it gets even more special doesn’t it?