You know those people you just can't wait to see, but they're so popular they're hard to pin down? Joan, Bill and Susan. Drink du noir: the Manhattan. L-r: the bouquet says "It's that time of year, the intense yellow season"; the house default, Sauternes (tonight, made instead with Idaho ice wine and a sprinkling of new asparagus amongst the root vegetables) roast chicken, last served to the very same crew a decade ago, as noted by me own scribble in the cookbook, Cold-Weather Cooking by Sarah Leah Chase, a cookbook tested on Martha's Vineyard [and, lord, Susan KNEW her] and easily the most reliable source of extraordinary, guest-pleasing recipes that I own (though consider the source: I used to boil spaghetti and use ketchup for sauce); Bill, once addressed by the title, Your Fit Highness-ship, the U.S. Ambassador to Nigeria (true-like), emerging from the Susan-steered country Benz with 180 million miles on it; and the formal portrait: Joan (in marketing there is a pretty term of art: we call certain people, "Influencers," because they make things happen; is Joan an influencer? let me count the ways) far left, Simone next, Bill you know, and SUSAN. SUSAN (tonight's designated driver) who is the artist in the group, just opening a new show, with new work, already selling out, at a new gallery in Providence, RI (what do you know?) with direct international links to all the great art markets, London, New Jerk, Toyko ... and they love Susan's stuff.
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