Stu’s 11-year-old son is really rather adventurous when it comes to food. He’s always badgering us to buy things like Chinese grapefruits (the monstrosity sat in the fridge for days as we picked away at it), interesting-looking root vegetables and all sorts of other produce with intriguing-sounding names.
I love that about him. I was not [read more ...]
Stu and I had an argument this weekend. We rarely fight so it’s particularly jarring when we disagree, leaving both of us rattled and hurt, confused about what happened and eager to make up.
Although we have, in the past, exchanged words and dirty looks about laundry and mundane household chores, Saturday’s upset involved a little [read more ...]
There is a park within walking distance to where Stu and I live, and twice a week we can hear strains of music carrying through the thick summer air. The kids hear it too, and have as of late begun asking if we might stop by for an evening concert. The idea appealed to me, [read more ...]
Sometimes I get an idea in my head and it lodges itself there so insistently I find it near-impossible to go about my daily tasks, let alone think of anything else. It repeats over and over, like a child’s play train set, chugging around and around in the very small circle of my brain.
Yesterday the [read more ...]
I have a great disdain for recipes that require special kitchen equipment. Nothing flares my anger more than dutifully following steps 1-6, only to find that step 7 requires me to carefully place the mixture in a circulator or centrifuge or something equally obscure, expensive and obnoxious. Even ice cream machine-specific recipes make me upset. [read more ...]
Among many other things, Stu is a hunter and fisherman. He has been talking a big game about getting me out in the field (or on the stream, or whatever), but so far we’ve only had one failed fishing expedition together. We drove out to a nearby stream and he taught me how to fish [read more ...]
It rained all day yesterday.
The downpour was sorely needed – I was thinking not just of my parched brown lawn, but the thirsty grapevines in the nearby Finger Lakes wine region as well. Still, I couldn’t help but feel an uneasy sort of melancholy as the day eased on. It wasn’t so much a dreary [read more ...]
People are funny about birthday cakes. Some refuse to acknowledge their day with confection while some insist on decadence with an elaborate tiered monstrosity. My father doesn’t even celebrate with a cake; he requests berry cobbler swimming in heavy cream every year. It’s something he looks forward to – something that makes the day all [read more ...]
My cousin Kala, who lives in Málaga, Spain, is a wonderful woman. She is smart and sweet, caring and thoughtful, and she married a man named Tino who is all of those things as well. In addition, he is an excellent cook.
Due to the ocean between us we rarely get to see one another, so [read more ...]
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