‘A rain had fallen from some warmer region in the skies when the cold here below was intense to an extreme. Every drop was frozen wherever it fell in the trees, and clung to the limbs and sprigs as if it had been fastened by hooks of steel. The earth was never more universally covered with snow, and the rain had frozen upon a crust on the surface…
I’ve always been in love with books. Since I can remember, I’ve had my nose stuck in one. I whizzed through every elementary and middle school series: Nancy Drew, The Baby Sitter’s Club, and the Sweet Valley Twins, to name a few. My Grandma thought reading a worthwhile investment of my time, and took me to B. Dalton once a week to pick out new titles to add…
Two weeks ago I got a text from my neighbor and dear friend Michelle. ‘We were wondering if you would all like to come over for a late breakfast tomorrow (we’re making ebleskivers/little pancakes)?’ I had so many questions (what are ebleskivers? are they the little pancakes? is it something really weird and also little pancakes?) but replied with a hurried ‘yes!’ as two little voices were clamoring…
I’ve been trying to come up with words for a Valentine’s post, and while I believe in the goodness of candied hearts and long-stemmed roses, I don’t feel that my experience of life and love can be wrapped up in a roses-are-red monologue of sorts. Bittersweet is my word of choice these last few years: watching the day and night work things out together. They are fierce companions.…
It’s the dead of winter, and I’m posting about ice cream. Again. In my defense, I’ve had sick little ones with sore throats and fevers, and sometimes ice cream just makes everything okay. For all of us. I tried olive oil ice cream this summer, and was floored by how great it was. I decided to experiment with the no-churn recipe, because that’s how I roll now. I…
Growing up, big breakfasts were a weekend affair. During the week, it was every man for himself; my morning meal usually consisting of a heaping bowl of cereal overflowing with milk. Saturdays, though, would get a little fancy. Mom would whisk up some pancake mix, and we would slather those warm golden circles with Aunt Jemima’s beaming smile; all the cares of the week disappearing into that river…
Sometimes inspiration hits slowly. There I was, with a box of puff pastry in my freezer. I had a friend coming over the next morning, so I pulled it out and stuck it in my fridge, racking my brain to come up with something easy to make for breakfast. I had ripe pears in the fruit bowl, and wanted to include them. I remembered my crème fraîche in…
