My girl and I walked between buildings in our townhouse development and found a patch of fragrant honeysuckle at the edge of the woods. I washed the blossoms, then steeped them overnight in simple syrup. The syrup is lovely mixed with soda water, poured over ice with a squeeze of lemon or sprig of mint.
Category: Food
pizza for 16
I brought 16 balls of pizza dough, a big jar of my homemade New York-style sauce, and a jar of my spicy caramelized onion and hot cherry pepper mix to a friend’s house Sunday afternoon.
Pizza for 16 was quite a project. I slid pizza on and off of the hot stone for about two and a half hours, red-faced, hair piled high on my head and sweat trickling behind my apron. Lovely image, I know. I sipped on a glass of old vine Zin and chatted with lady friends while working. Children popped in and out of the sweltering kitchen to place their pizza orders and check on status. My pizza was last to come out of the oven. It was delish, if I may say so myself.
morning
I lit a candle in the dark morning hours and sat in silence with my nine year-old. We stayed in the quiet for only five minutes and then the day had to begin. My favorite part of the morning: the kids and I singing Looney Tunes words to the overture of Rossini’s Barber of Seville. Leftover drop biscuits held spoonfuls of homemade jam, or in some cases, small piles of Nutella.
boxing day 2012
The blue-grey light returned on Boxing Day, along with snow, sleet, rain, cold. I felt like I was back in central New York. I burned Nag Champa and played 80’s music in our warm kitchen. John fried cold slabs of leftover grits in the cast iron skillet, and I ate two of them with butter and my most favorite-est thing ever, Sriracha.
christmas day 2012
Pre-dawn whispers (I stuffed my head under a pillow and went back to sleep).
Presents opened before the eight o’clock hour.
Hot coffee from the Chemex.
Sweet, soft challah French toast eaten continental style by a bad piggie.
Organic, fresh-pressed juice to cut through the sweet.
Beautiful music streaming through the house.
Gentle, quiet focus on a new art.
christmas eve 2012
For the first time, my girl helped braid the challah, her small fingers gently moving the ropes and curling in ends. We used the knife as a chisel and popped chunks of Callebaut in our mouths while we worked.
The challah baked up quick. We left the hot loaf to cool on a wire rack and drove to church, where I sat on the edge of my seat as our pastor hit all the high notes in O Holy Night. Once home I sat in my bent wood chair under my mother’s cable-knit afghan and stared at the lights on the tree.