This summer the phrase “too hot to cook” has been tossed around more than ever before. I live in the northeast, coastal Connecticut to be exact, and the weather has been nothing short of beastly. Several of my friends from Charleston, SC summer up north and have remarked that the weather patterns are strikingly similar to those in the Battery, in August. That kind of heat is serious-- they would never joke about a thing like that.

With the excessive heat and humidity outdoors, and only semi-effective air-conditioning indoors, my Naptime Chef-ing lately has focused on fare that doesn’t require hours over the flame.  Instead, I’ve been working on cold salads, marinating meat for the grill and baking goods that only require short amounts of time in the oven.

Good Week for:

• Gluten-free, vegan and vegetarian cuisine.  Chelsea Clinton's wedding menu reportedly caters to numerous dietary restrictions.
• Yogurt.  Menchie's Yogurt, Inc. was the fastest-growing growing franchise in the food industry in 2009.

I am a Mom and a foodie.  And I don’t think these two things should ever be mutually exclusive.  Most people would read that sentence and agree with me.  Of course parents can and should enjoy good food-- of course they should never give up the simple pleasure of cooking a good meal.  But, have you ever tried to cook with kids underfoot and an infant in the bassinet next to the counter?  It’s not easy.  Trust me, I’ve tried.

The plan was to go for sushi at this great restaurant in my hometown underneath the el train, but I wasn’t really in a mood for sushi.  The food would have been as reliably good as it ever was, but I was craving something a little different. Something more substantial. Something more Mediterranean. So I called my friend Dustin and told him there was a change of plans. We were getting chicken. Not just any chicken, but really good chicken.

I was back in New York City for the first time in a year. I was going with a friend of mine to see Conan O’Brien perform his second night at Radio City Music Hall. We had some time to kill before the show started and he asked me where I wanted to eat. I would have been perfectly content grabbing a hot dog from the cart across the street on 7th Avenue and writing a thousand-word column about street food and how the humble hot dog cart became a staple of New York life. And every last syllable would have been bullshit. Fortunately, he had a better idea. He asked if I was in the mood for a burger. Having cut my consumption of red meat back by about 90 percent, I immediately agreed. So we started walking.

It was probably two years ago John and I first realized our eyes were a little bigger than our stomachs. He and his wife were kind enough to invite me to her parent’s place in the mountains one weekend, and he said we were going to barbecue.

Being from the Northeast, when someone says barbecue, I think burgers and hot dogs. But John had something different in mind. He wanted to smoke a pork shoulder. And it was up to me to find it.