Joni's, A Love Letter to Summer in Montauk: Feel good recipes and stories from the end of the world.

No one is there. What are you doing?

May to September in Montauk is a season of magic. It has a way of captivating our attention-compelling us with its salty perfume, barefoot grit and laid back vibe. The closer you get to East Coast summer, the more this tingly sensation begins to wash over your soul. In a clockwork formation, a mix of year-rounders and tourists take over town, bleary-eyed but ready to rock after months of winter hibernation. Together, they brave long lines and beach parking as both opponents and hopeless romantics for this one place they can't seem to stay away from.

The truth is, you can't help but let this little dot on the map get under your suntanned skin-mesmerizing you with dreamy sunsets, late-night skinny dips, the popping embers of beach fires, and oysters that rival any marché in coastal France. Like a great first kiss, we all long to remember our first steps off the jitney or LIRR to MTK station. And the first time we devoured a "Love, Peace & Chicken" at Joni's.

There is no glacial deposit in New York like Montauk. The stretch from Napeague to Montauk, where farmlands end and pine trees and sandy dunes begin, is unforgettable. That initial glimpse of the ocean when you enter town, sparkling like diamonds with beautiful sets rolling in, is eternally imprinted in our minds. If you've never found yourself on the eastern tip of Long Island, you'll know it when you feel it. It's an energy shift that stays with you, whether your visions of Montauk are trapped in a time warp or still forming.

Many establishments in Montauk have come and gone in this formerly sleepy fishing town, leaving behind a sliver of mainstays like Shagwong, Gosman's, and Martell's. Joni's, opened in 2001, exists somewhere in the middle. It's a reminder of the original, lawless heydays and symbol of a constantly changing destination.

What started as a little surf shack and feel-good food joint off the main street in Montauk has become somewhat of an institution beyond a seasonal café. On the speakers, curated playlists loop electric blues, island reggae, and usual suspects like The Stones. Joni's expansive jazz collection always makes a cameo, from the soothing sounds of Sarah Vaughan's "Misty" to Dinah Washington's "What Difference A Day Makes." The atmosphere is warm and beachy. There's a hose outside Joni's inviting, but not demanding, you to rinse sand off your feet and a sign proclaiming "Please, no cell phones at the table." Picnic seating unites strangers in heart-to-hearts and you'll often find at least two generations deep in chat. It's relaxed and fluid by design. Rufus Wainwright described Joni's as "something from a modern-day Grease film, but with more skin." You'll just never hear that from Joni, who is confident in her kitchen yet reluctant to take compliments.

So, what if Joni grew up in Manhattan? This love affair with Montauk began in 1971 when she was two, and it was not a holiday fling. Her family would save up to summer at Montauk's Lido Motel, staying for weeks in squished rooms and making rotations to old standbys like Puff and Putt, The Drive-In, John's Pancake House, and White's for beach toys. Whether she realized it or not, Joni was collecting recipes from visits to the East End, world travels, and surf trips. Always coming back to the idea that healthy food should taste seriously good. With an abundance of farmers' markets popping up around the world, affordable CSAs selling food that would have otherwise gone to waste, and ingredients available online, the opportunity to eat well is more accessible than ever. But as hype man and husband, Mick Brosnan, would say, enough f*cking poetry. Let's talk about Joni Brosnan.