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Every city girl has a few rules. Always leave while the party’s still hot. Always keep a $20 in your clutch in case the date goes awry. Always have a little protein before partying. That’s right, before your first dirty martini of the evening, take a few minutes to make a simple, lean plate of protein. You’ll thank me for the advice, and my recipe, in the morning.

I left him at the table and walked north back to my apartment, staring at the sky above my riverbed, the white and silver scales atop the Chrysler Building (the arrangement of lights looking like the fish I’d seen on the walls of Pompeii). Alone and heading home.

It reminded me of my first weeks in the city, walking from Union Square down Broadway after my movies—always alone—past Grace Church, Amalgamated. The education of a girl and her sensibilities. It came to me, finally. “Alone” and “lonely” were very different. Right then, I was by myself yet a part of those around me, Broadway, a river of souls, the echo of heavy heels, sneezes (little orgasms of air), monologues of crazy street poets. I considered all of my romances—the city, my job, the men. Manhattan was real and the only thing that had grabbed a hold of me, never once letting go. So I had that. I’d always have that. Breathe.

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He’s tanned and obsequious and cares only about my pleasure. Pool Boy pours me a chilled cocktail with one hand whilst rubbing Bain de Soleil all over my lily white body. He proffers a cooled wash cloth for my beaded brow and offers himself…

Okay, fine, it’s all a dream and I’m the one serving up the martinis, desperately trying to bribe my Hamptons hosts into letting me stay until Monday. I’m plying then with cucumber martinis and my cool Moroccan dip. Pepper spears and homemade whole wheat pita chips are an attempt round out the deal. Think they’ll keep me?

Click here, for the recipes, my lovelies.

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So unfortunate, y’all. I spent this 4th of July staring at a computer screen (think twice before entering the publishing world), nibbling on Twizzlers, downing bottle after bottle of (chilled Sancerre? Corona with lime?) Pellegrino.

But just a few short weeks ago I was basking pool and grill-side at my friend Lauren’s gorgeous Hamptons retreat. And while I’ve worked hard to do my white bikini justice, I think that my grilled corn and zucchini salad and my rosemary kebabs stole the show (chalk it up to their New Jersey, farm-raised upbringing). Dessert? Grilled peaches from your Southern peach. Recipes are here. Do enjoy, my lovelies.