the beauty of an ordinary life
(As often, a string of loosely connected, incomplete thoughts follows.) 1 The soup? It has a strange, impossible name. And it would be delicious, as the folktale goes, if only for a few carrots -- a bit of garnish, which a passerby is happy to offer in exchange for an invitation to return later, when … Continue reading How to make soup.
I'm writing this post at my writing table, which for most of its life has been a kitchen or dining table and bears all the markings to prove it. I'm writing in one draft, so there are sure to be typos and incomplete thoughts. Under the table, a big baby of a dog, all hundred … Continue reading How to weather a storm.
We drove home from dinner, a cozy evening with a few friends, and changed into our nightclothes to wait. It was early, and it was cold, and we were winter-tired, feet moving to the rhythm of a primal hibernation call. Our children were nestled under covers, watching Netflix and avoiding homework. It had the normal … Continue reading Slivers of infinite happiness.
Here's what my village people are saying: sit down and finish writing the damn book. Here's what I love about my village people: they are right. So, no new post this week; but here's one from the past that maybe you'll enjoy. Happy week. Starting Over. (originally published January 15, 2013) She's a Savannah girl, … Continue reading The village people
Today's show-off TV chefs would never have survived the Thanksgiving kitchens of my youth. The roasting turkey, oyster dressing, scalloped potatoes, tender rolls and sweet potato pie were all in well-practiced hands, so my Southern matriarch predecessors would have sent Bobby Flay packing - gracefully, I'll add. At a minimum they would would have dispatched … Continue reading Many hands, light work.
If it weren't for the Reformation, it's possible that the world communion of Christians (all Catholics, if it weren't for the Reformation) would be about to launch festivities associated with the Feast of Fools, the evolution of Saturnalia, that wild Roman holiday tradition marked by role reversals, gag gifts and general mischief. Yes, Virginia, the … Continue reading Good will toward many. (food, week of 12.16.13)
"I know you don't have a minute to talk, but you must tell me: how are my children doing?" These are the first words Harriet says after I answer the phone last Sunday afternoon. Not "Hello." Not "Jennifer?" Straight to the matter Harriet is, and it's one of the qualities I adore most in her. … Continue reading The light heart lives longest. (food, week of 12.1.13)
I spent the summer of 1989 in Orleans, a lovely town on the Cape, living in a house that was built in the 1600s and that sported, among many other fine amenities, a real victory garden that dated back to World War II. The garden was planted when the family who owned the house moved … Continue reading Victory gardens. (weekly menu 5.6.13)
jenny's lark 