March 5, 2013 § 13 Comments
It is decidedly not spring here yet. In fact, it’s blowing ferociously and snowing several inches outside right now (just a stone’s throw further south they’re getting close to 10 inches, but we’re getting only brushed by the storm).
I remember the day in March in 2nd grade when our teacher taught us the saying, “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” She even had a paper cut out lion and lamb thumb tacked up on the cork board to drive the point home.
We were all mystified. No, no, no. The saying was all wrong, we pointed out (after the metaphor had been explained). March comes in like a lion and it goes out like a lion too. Maybe an ever so slightly more docile lion, but a lion nonetheless.
That’s Minnesota for you.
So, no, no spring yet. It makes me miss the other places I’ve lived, the places where crocuses and daffodils start intrepidly strutting about in March. However, the yearning for spring isn’t desperate yet. Not desperate, but on the other hand, I’m definitely not as into root vegetables as I was a couple months ago.
In my need for a change of pace, I found myself craving broccoli salad a few days ago, something that does not happen often at all, except for the odd day midsummer when it sounds good, or when I’m several time zones out of my element, running late for a wedding rehearsal, and my stomach is growling audibly, and I’m standing in front of a deli counter. It happens sometimes then too. « Read the rest of this entry »
February 7, 2013 § 18 Comments
Even when you’re a northerner through and through, and you cherish each of the four seasons, there are times when winter starts to wear on you. Just a little bit.
There are times, when it’s been a while since the snow cover has been refreshed and a while since the temperature has been above single digits, and it starts to feel drab and dreary and repetitive. It loses its luster the way snowbanks do as they get trampled over and sprayed with dirt.
But then, in the midst of all that, you may have a morning where you wake up to hear the cheery whistle of a songbird, “twee-ooo,” letting you know that it may get up into the teens today, and suddenly the world feels a little more alive. Then, the clouds may roll in and blanket everything with 4 or 5 inches of fresh powdery snow, and the world feels a little more clean. And hopefully, on such a day, you’ll decide not to go cross-country skiing on the groomed trails, even though you have a 50 km race you were supposed to be busting your butt training for, and instead go tromping in the woods, playing tag with the dog, searching for animal tracks, and making snow angels, and then you’ll remember why winter is gorgeous and magical.
Even the most wonderful things need paying attention to, or you’ll forget how very wonderful they are. « Read the rest of this entry »
October 8, 2012 § 28 Comments
Is it quite terrible that one of the things I liked best about Boston was the length of the corduroy jacket season? It stretched on seemingly into perpetuity, that in-between temperature season where you can throw a corduroy jacket over your t-shirt or over your wooly sweater and be happy.
I really love wearing my corduroy jacket, you see.
This makes me sound so frivolous, doesn’t it?! It is frivolous. Forgive me, I’m a flake! At least where corduroy is involved. And boots too, but let’s stick with corduroy for the moment. The point is, here I wore my corduroy jacket for perhaps two days, and then the season was over.
It snowed a little bit both days this weekend. In some places, actually, it snowed a lot! I absolutely love snow, and I say bring it on. The temperature is hovering right around freezing, the smell of leaves and an edge of snow are trapped, suspended in the chill, dry air. It smells like I remember Halloween weather always smelling. The ground is coated with crackling leaves, maple, birch, and aspen, and in many ways, this is actually my very favorite kind of weather. I keep being overcome by a delirious happiness when I step outside and feel that air and smell that smell. Except, gosh I’d like to be able to wear my corduroy jacket for a little bit longer.
I’d also like to have cake and eat it too while acquiring grass in a similar shade of green as that on the other side, if it’s not too much trouble, thank you. « Read the rest of this entry »
January 24, 2012 § 12 Comments
English is a language with a lot of great idiomatic phrases, so I take slight umbrage at the fact that there is no good taste equivalent for the saying “I could see it in my mind’s eye.” At least, I don’t think there is. If anyone out there knows one, will you please share it with me? I would use it all the time. I would probably drive everyone around me to drink, I would use it so often. (So maybe it’s actually good I don’t know such a phrase. It prevents the need for an intervention – for my overuse of it, or for the induced drinking problem in those who are sick of hearing it, I couldn’t say…)
It’s how I think about recipes, ingredients, and cooking. I think many people who cook a lot do. I imagine ingredients and preparations and I taste what they would be like in my mind’s mouth (ergh, see, that sounds ridiculous) before even cracking open the cupboards in the pantry. And, when I see a dish of some sort, I do the same thing.
May 6, 2011 § 9 Comments
For some reason I want to tell you all “quick, quick, make this lasagne!” I have an odd sort of urgency about it, and I have no idea why. Maybe it’s that I think the asparagus is going to go scurrying off into hiding before too long, or that soon it will be too hot to even consider baking something 45 minutes, let alone having that something include a creamy sauce. Or maybe it’s just that it’s delicious and we should all hurry up and make it so we can eat it (or eat it again, if you’re me).
Not that lasagne is something you can really hurry. Its architectural layers require some care and engineering to assemble if you want it to come out with beautiful, colored striations, which you do because then it looks a bit like a cool white, green, and brown sandstone cliff. And, it takes some time to bake, no way around that. But, all the more reason to get right to it, and not wait around hemming and hawing about whether lasagne should be on the weekend agenda!
I love lasagne. It feels so pleasantly familial to eat it. Yet, I don’t make it very often, and I’m not sure why. Wait, scratch that. I do know why. It’s because much of the time there are just the two of us here at dinner, and lasagne is the food of the large crowd. The family reunion potluck, the ski-team dinner, the 13 kids are coming for a sleep over what on earth am I going to make, occasions. Often it doesn’t seem quite worth it for two. And though it makes splendid leftovers – I always think lasagne tastes even better the second day – well, if you make a really big one, it can take a little uncomfortably long to work your way through it.