Plum-Nectarine Chutney
Summer is always my time to reconnect--to myself, to my home, to my family, and most certainly to my friends. A little over a week ago, I met up with a dear friend of mine (whom I have known since the very early summer of 2003); we sipped tea and nibbled on astonishingly delicious salted chocolate rye cookies at Tartine in the city. (Okay, I ate my cookie in about two bites, but they were just so good.) She brought me a bag of plums from the bounty of her yard--some from a Green Gage plum tree and some from a Santa Rosa plum tree . She apologized for being a little late to our tea date, but she had almost forgotten the bag of plums on the table and had to turn back, for she knew I would hardly forgive her if she had left them behind. As we settled in, I asked her to tell me the story of these plums. Often when I ask someone this question about food, the story is as simple as the one that our former neighbors (who just moved, darn them) ...