When late spring starts to feel like early summer, it’s indisputably rosé season. There’s nothing like the combination of full sunlight, endless green, and a chilly glass of perfectly dry, blush-colored rosé. It’s hard to imagine improving on this experience, but once upon a time, the genius idea of frosé was born. Its origin seems to trace back to NYC’s Bar Primi in the summer of 2016 when curious bartenders wondered what might happen if they poured rosé into a newly acquired slushie

Winter in the Finger Lakes can swing wildly between a slate-gray frozen tundra, a frigid but sparkling blue sky glinting off the lake, and, this year, days that feel as gentle and warm as April, with confused snowdrops and aconite poking their faces above the earth. When this recipe appeared in my mind, it was one of those slate-gray frozen February days. All I wanted was a honeyed breath of summer, paired with something comforting – a dish with the practical core of a New England grandmother