0:07
6 July 2026 ~ 3 Good Things
My favorite place to be is in the middle of a project. (And now that I think about it, maybe that’s another part of why I paint in series?) Knitting, painting, writing, cooking, organizing the closet, whatever it is, I like the middle part best.
The beginning of a project takes so much activation energy, so much summoning. Yes, there’s excitement at the beginning, and that excitement can be fuel, but there are also so many decisions to be made, and so much uncertainty about how and where things will go.
Some people love the beginning. I like the beginning fine, but not the way I love the middle.
And the end of a project? I have truly been known to never finish projects; there used to be a project graveyard in our basement before we moved. And in 1998, I visited my brother who was studying in Florence, and while I was traveling I read the book, “Under The Tuscan Sun,” by Frances Mayes. I loved that book so much, I loved that trip so much; to this day I have never read the final chapter because I didn’t want the book to end.
I’m better now about finishing things than I used to be, and I do appreciate the rush of satisfaction that comes with the end of a project. But it’s not the way I love the middle.
The thing about the middle - for me - is this. I’m in it. There’s a flow and a current, and they carry me. I don’t have to summon the oomph to start, and I don’t have to contemplate the conclusion. (I’m reminded suddenly of the poem, “Halfway Down,” by A. A. Milne, it goes, “it isn’t really anywhere, it’s somewhere else instead.”)
Today I finished the last in a series of the small Substack paintings, and the blank page is staring at me, asking me what comes next. I don’t know yet. It’s the beginning - or before the beginning, even. And I find myself longing for the middle.
Stay tuned.
Thanks for listening, friends.
Ps. What about you? Do you love the beginning, middle, or end??
Monday:
I found a long-lost gift card for a shop where I was already planning to make a purchase, and the gift card cut my price in half. Hooray!
There is a limelight hydrangea just outside the side door of our apartment building (which reminds me of the limelight hydrangea we had outside the front door at our house), and it’s just starting to bloom. Lovely.
I will never not marvel at the fact that I can control the thermostat from my phone.
Now you? Tell me 3 good things?
Xo.
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1:59
French gene therapy biotech gets €33M to follow Krystal's blueprint
Cyllene Therapeutics, a French‑US start‑up, just closed a €33 million financing round to push forward its HSV‑based gene‑therapy platform. The money will fund pre‑clinical work and the design of a first‑in‑human Phase 1 trial, aiming at a rare neuro‑muscular disorder that currently has no disease‑modifying options.
The approach mirrors Krystal Biotech’s earlier work with an HSV vector, but Cyllene is targeting a different protein defect. So far the evidence is limited to animal models that show modest restoration of muscle function; there’s no human data yet. The company says the vector can deliver a larger gene payload than most viral systems, which could be useful for the disease they’re tackling.
Investors are betting on the platform’s flexibility, not on any proven clinical benefit at this point. If the early studies hold up, the next step will be a small safety‑focused trial in a handful of patients. Until then, the outlook is cautious, but the funding gives Cyllene a clear path to test whether the concept translates beyond the lab.
2:45
Farro & Asparagus Salad with Feta & Charred Lemon
I’m glad you got to spend the holiday cooking and still find time to relax with family. The recipe you tried is a quick, 30‑minute farro and asparagus salad that leans on a few simple ingredients—farro (or quick‑cook farro/quinoa if you’re short on time), asparagus, feta, fresh basil, olive oil, salt, pepper, and a charred lemon for brightness. Char the lemon first; the heat softens the tartness and releases more juice, so you just squeeze it over the salad with a drizzle of oil and seasoning, no separate dressing needed.
The salad comes together by cooking the grain, blanching the asparagus, then tossing everything with crumbled feta and torn basil. The charred lemon adds a smoky citrus note that ties the whole dish together, while the feta gives a salty creaminess. It’s a straightforward, satisfying mix that feels a bit special without any fuss.
If you stick with regular farro, give it a little extra time, or swap it for quinoa for an even faster version. It’s a nice, balanced meal you can whip up on a busy day and still feel good about serving. Enjoy!
3:31
# 419: The Price was Right ... or Was It?
I’m glad you caught me before the next outage, so here’s the quick rundown. About six months ago you snagged a super‑cheap internet plan that looked perfect for your yard‑sale hustle. The router arrived, the setup was a breeze, and speeds were solid for both download and upload.
Then, out of the blue, the connection started flickering—sometimes a decent burst, other times a crawl at 3 Mbps down and 0.4 Mbps up. After a handful of calls, the company finally admitted the service wasn’t actually available in your zip code. They’re working on an expansion, but there’s no timeline, and they promised a refund.
Your tech‑savvy friend pointed you toward a more reliable provider, and you’ve already booked an installation for this Friday. In the meantime you’ll be hopping on a phone hotspot, which is fine for now but not ideal for streaming or work.
I’ll keep an ear out for the refund update, and I’m looking forward to hearing how the new connection holds up. Until then, enjoy that no‑ice‑cream‑maker dessert you’ve shared—perfect for a slow internet day.
4:17
Obamacare rolls shrank dramatically in many states over the past year, new federal data shows
NEW YORK — States across the country saw steep drops in the number of people covered by the Affordable Care Act over the past year, with Ohio and Oklahoma each losing nearly one-third of enrollees, according to new federal data that provides the first complete 50-state breakdown of sharp enrollment declines following the January expiration of enhanced subsidies.
The data, posted in late June by the Trump administration and first reported on by The Associated Press, reveals how changes in each state’s insured population led to around 2.6 million fewer Americans having Obamacare plans in February compared with the same time last year.
4:47
STAT+: Vertex acquires Crinetics Pharmaceuticals for $10 billion as biotech M&A booms
Vertex is moving to buy Crinetics for about $10 billion, which works out to roughly $85 a share. The price pushed Crinetics stock up a full 100 percent after the news, so investors are already feeling the impact.
The centerpiece of the deal is Palsonify, Crinetics’ commercial drug for acromegaly. It earned approval after a phase III trial that enrolled a couple hundred patients and demonstrated a clear drop in growth‑hormone levels, so it’s already on the market rather than still in testing.
Beyond Palsonify, Crinetics has a late‑stage candidate for congenital adrenal hyperplasia, a rare hormone disorder that could become a big revenue driver if the upcoming trial confirms efficacy.
All told, the acquisition adds an approved therapy and a promising pipeline to Vertex’s portfolio, and it underscores how quickly biotech deals are scaling up these days.
5:26
Vertex makes $10B deal for commercial endocrinology biotech Crinetics
Vertex Pharmaceuticals is making the largest acquisition in its history, beefing up its commercial portfolio with a $10 billion takeover of Crinetics Pharmaceuticals. The Monday afternoon deal for Crinetics will give ...
5:39
One Flat of Blueberries + One Very Purple-Stained Kitchen
A FLAT OF BLUEBERRIES came home with us last week. That’s more blueberries than two people can reasonably eat before they turn, and I knew it when I bought them.
I do this every July. The first really good local berries show up, sweet and irresistible, and all sense leaves me at the market.
But a flat of blueberries? Not a problem. It’s a week of breakfasts, a pie (or three), a jar of jam for the back of the fridge, and a cake that makes Monday feel like a reason to bake.
It reminds me of the summer our niece and nephew, Megan and Michael, spent a week with us in Connecticut. We took them to an all-you-can-pick (read: eat) blueberry farm. Even though they were seven and nine years old, they managed to pick over 6 pounds of blueberries.
You don't need a flat to enjoy the season’s sassiest debutantes. A pint or two is all you need.
And, yeah, I know. I was uncharacteristically quiet during the past week or so. The last thing I thought you needed was more July Fourth recipes. On top of it, considering the state of things, celebrating just didn't feel right. Instead, The One and I made steaks, grilled potatoes, and asparagus, and toasted the future.
Chow,
I think I’m turning into my grandmother… #VovóBrain
Buy them dry and dull, not shiny-wet. A dusty bloom on the skin means they have not been washed and bruised yet. Wash only what you are about to use.
Freeze a tray before you do anything else. Spread them on a sheet pan, freeze, then bag. You will want them in January more than you want them now.
Use the firm ones raw, the soft ones cooked. Save the perfect berries for the top of something; send the bruised ones into jam, buckle, or cobbler where looks do not matter.
Reach for lemon with blueberry, every time. A little zest and juice brighten the berry and keep the sweetness from going flat.
Bake the one that turns Monday around. Pick the coffee cake or the buckle from the recipes that follow, then send the rest of the flat everywhere else.
Well, I can never NOT make this incredibly easy blueberry crumble. If you want to talk about the power of real, human-generated photography? This photo was taken by my friend and photography teacher . This recipe was languishing online. Only after we shot this image and I added it to the post did it explode and become one of the most popular recipes on my site.
Again, another really simple recipe. Yes, the parchment paper liners are a pain in the ass to make, but when I'm in a rush, I simply cut the squares and use a drinking glass to twist them in place. To hell with folding. Total winner!
Try this recipe
Oh, and the famous Jordan Marsh Blueberry Muffins are outstanding. #IYKYK. For those who don’t know, I’m including Nick Malgieri’s recipe here. Consider buying his cookbook How to Bake, where I first encountered this recipe. Nick was my baking teacher a million years ago, when I was young, thin, and beautiful. 😜 Nick is the GOAT.
Be sure to serve this blueberry buckle while still warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream—the perfect creamy, cold complement to the syrupy, juicy berries.
This easy blueberry custard pie combines a creamy, custardy filling with ripe, juicy blueberries. The sweet filling is baked in a pie crust and you can even swap in a store-bought one if you’d like.
Small batch blueberry jam is the answer to all your fleeting-summer woes. A full day of canning is messy but this 45-minute recipe will give you just enough jam to see you through an extra few weeks, or if a craving hits mid-winter, you can toss this together with frozen berries. You'll end up with precious, jewel-like jars of blueberry-flavored sunshine. And it's easy-peasy.
Blueberry hand pies are a fruit dessert traced back to the South and adored everywhere. Don't let the deep-fried part scare you off. It's the classic blueberry pie filling plus a splash of rum enveloped in an easy, flaky pastry dough. As for the frying? Takes less time than waiting for a pie to bake.
Blueberry lemon bars have a creamy filling of fresh berries and tangy lemon, layered between pie crust and a crumb topping. Made to slice and share, they’re like little pieces of pie that you can eat out-of-hand. Both hands, if you like.
This blueberry lemon layer cake, made with triple layers of yellow cake with fresh blueberries and enveloped in the perfect lemon cream cheese frosting, is impressive in every way.
This blueberry mascarpone tart from Donna Hay screams sunshine. A sweet pastry crust is filled with sweetened lemony mascarpone cheese and topped with fresh blueberries.
These American-style lemon blueberry scones are topped with a sweet lemon glaze. They’re just sweet enough to enjoy any time of the day.
Crunchy cinnamon-and-sugar streusel plus a sweet vanilla glaze top classic homemade coffee cake. Mmm. There’s also a pretty great variation using cranberry and raspberry, at the bottom of the recipe. Give them both a try.
P.S.
8:57
Cooking for One: Spaghetti with Miso, Garlic, and Scallions
Clichés get to be clichés for a reason: They are rooted in truth. Here’s one: When you’re home alone and you want a quick meal, you reach for a box of pasta.
Fact check: True! (For me, at least.)
But the bugaboo of another pasta night, for me, is finding something to sauce the noodles that isn’t exactly the same-old, same-old tin of anchovies or can of tomato sauce—even though these are two of my favorite things. I want something that’s just as quick and easy to make but delivers a different set of flavors and textures.
Enter miso paste.
Miso paste, which is thankfully now easily available in supermarkets across the country, is one of those miracle ingredients that contains within itself a range of flavors—savory (umami), earthy, salty, slightly sweet, nutty, just a little bit sharp. Rather than purchasing and prepping a bunch of ingredients to achieve this range, all you need is a scoop of miso. What’s more, its creamy consistency makes it perfect for coating noodles, especially when thinned with a little bit of water; it distributes beautifully when you toss it, creating a velvety, luxuriant sauce right before your very eyes.
The product of fermented soy beans and rice, miso paste has a long history. In Japan, where it’s a ubiquitous culinary building block, you can find it in many, many varieties. In the United States, where it is a relative newcomer, the most commonly available types of miso paste are white (often called shiro miso) and red.
White miso paste is fermented for just a few months, and while it carries a whole web of captivating characteristics, it’s on the milder side of pungent. Red miso, on the other hand, is usually fermented for a longer time, and tends to be saltier and deeper in flavor, more robust. I like white miso for noodles, because it offers a sturdy and deep (but relatively subtle) flavor base onto which I can pile energetic ingredients like garlic, lemon, and scallions.
About that garlic: I use just a single (fat) clove, which is plenty for a small serving. In some early versions of this quick supper, I simply minced it and added it raw. Which was delicious! But of late I’ve been lightly browning the garlic in a bit of olive oil, which gives the garlic a caramel edge and a charming little crunch. Plus, the sliced garlic flavors the oil which, of course, I drizzle over the top of the dressed noodles just before serving.
10:36
The pain of outgrowing your old life
The best part of being in your 20s is realising you’re not the person you once were. The worst part is realising you can never be those people again, no matter how hard you try or how much you want to go back.
It is probably the most bittersweet feeling: the pain of outgrowing your old life. Sweet, because you’re evolving and stepping into a more mature, concrete, self-aware version of you. Bitter, because part of growing up is having to say goodbye, over and over again, to certain things that represented who you once were, hoping the next chapter is better.
This happens at some very critical points in our 20s, like when we graduate college or university. I remember graduating and feeling this deep sadness that I’d never live next door to my friends again, never have those same moments and nights where you’re getting to know these people for the first time, and everything is shiny and new and not that serious yet. I’d never get to relive that exactly as it was.
It can also happen when we break up with someone: the life you thought you’d have disintegrates very quickly. Same with when we quit jobs, leave cities, lose friends, even loved ones. But it also happens a lot more quietly, as we realise, “Wait a second, I’m not who I was six months ago, or two years ago, or five years ago. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Let’s explore that feeling for a second, the pain of outgrowing your old life.
We’ve spoken about the more obvious, grand-stage transitions which catapult us into a new life, but what about the more subtle shifts?
Sometimes (most of the time) it’s less of an intense rupture and more of a slow recognition: smaller changes in your routine, your relationships. You may suddenly realise you don’t see the people you used to, your nights look very different now, your hobbies have changed, how you dress has changed, your idea of fun is different. There has been some personal evolution in your values that has slowly filtered into your habits and patterns. This can create tension if your environment stays the same while you no longer fit within it.
You may start to feel almost out of place where you are now: bored, stuck, restless. I don’t know if there’s an official term for this, but right before your life is about to change remarkably, you’ll experience what I call “next in line jitters” - that weird waiting-room sensation where some part of you instinctively knows a deep, psychological, emotional transformation is coming, but it’s just not your turn yet. I don’t think you have the words for it until you feel it. It’s like the final hour of a long flight, when you know you’re about to land, but before that is the longest stretch where you just can’t get comfortable.
The actual psychological term for this is developmental disequilibrium, a child psychology concept from the Yale Gesell Institute of Child Development, but one I think applies just as well to adults in their 20s. The theory says that right as you’re on the verge of a major growth spurt, your behaviour starts to almost regress; we experience what feels like a drawback right before we’re shot forward. That strange feeling of displacement may actually be a good sign.
Here’s something worth knowing, especially if you’re going through this right now: this pain often occurs in stages, and it does have an end.
The foundational theory here is Arnold van Gennep’s threefold model of the rites of passage.
Van Gennep was a French ethnographer and folklorist who studied humanity through stories and the way cultures functioned. Across his work, he noticed that in almost every society and culture, as people transition into new seasons of life, the same three processes occur: separation, transition (the liminal space), and incorporation, or reaggregation.
Graduation is the clearest example: there’s the separation, seen through the formality of the ceremony, receiving a diploma (and probably a big bill), even the turning of the tassel to mark your exit from the institution. Then there’s a strange in-between period, before you start work or know what’s next, where you lose the structure you’d grown used to, and you’re left with confusion and questions about whether it will all work out. Slowly, reintegration follows, as you piece things back together. Van Gennep also wrote about marriage and joining the military in this way - he was writing in the early 1900s, during a period shaped by major wars, so those transitions were deeply woven into the culture of his time.
I see it playing out in a bit more detail - not quite as clean as three steps, but seven.
You begin to realise you’re missing what used to feel normal. You start remembering things as they were, not as they are, and with that comes an acknowledgment of the passing of time and a deeper understanding that things have changed.
Nostalgia is something you can dip in and out of.
