The weather in suburban New Jersey today is ideal for the lazy vacation day I’m taking. It’s one of my favorite kinds of days: a grey and drizzly day in December during which I feel perfectly content to order Christmas presents from bed while snuggling with one of my loving pets. What it is, is the perfect afternoon for a bowl of soup. But all of my soup is in Brooklyn, frozen and waiting for me to have the forethought to thaw it before I want it. Where did I learn how to do that? Well, from my mother, who also has several soup varieties sitting downstairs in her freezer, perfectly frozen and hard as a rock.
Listen up, y’all. I have something important to say. Just because it’s Sunday and you’re all alone, that doesn’t mean you can’t make yourself a Sunday night feast. And just because it’s 90 degrees and brutal outside, that doesn’t mean your feast can’t include a roast chicken. I won’t let any of that stop me. No way, no how. Either way I’m roasting a chicken. (You can expect this to be the title of my first memoir.)
Looking back at all my previous blog posts, I realize that I can come across as a little one-dimensional. This post will both reinforce that idea while also dispelling it. I can be a bit of a Vermont-loving, comfort food-makin’ one trick pony. I can’t help but be inspired by Vermont and I can’t help loving warm, comforting food. But I do, in fact, branch out. With the arrival of spring (or so I’m told. It’s currently snowing in NYC), comes my craving for fresh and healthy foods. What better way to welcome the spring than by making a big ole salad inspired by my trip to Vermont last weekend (is anyone really surprised)?
fuzzy photos of food courtesy of shaky, sick hands + amateur food photography skills
Happy October, everyone! To me, it doesn’t feel like fall has truly begun until October rolls around. I love a good, sunny fall day. You can wear a cute lil’ jacket and romp around the beautiful outdoor scenery, laughing into your infinity scarf, tossing leaves into the air. Maybe you go apple picking, maybe you go to a winery, maybe you even go find a corn maze. Hell, I’m hoping to do all of that one day in the not too distant future.
But I think my favorite part of fall is the dreary, drizzly days.