The other week I took a run for the first time in…well, I’d really rather not say if that’s alright. It was blustery and cold and rain sluiced down my face, plastering strands of hair against my forehead. I blinked the water out of my eyes as I ran, and as I got to the last few blocks, I picked up speed and sprinted the final minute, ending up at the pier. I pulled off my running shoes and stripped down to my sports bra and undies (yup!), shivering as I did so—the wind was picking up speed and whipping droplets so hard that I looked up to see if they had maybe turned into hail. I raced down the dock and leapt into the water. In my opinion, this is the only way to approach a swim you expect to be quite cold: just dive in without letting yourself think about it too much.
I held my breath, steeling my body for the frigid chill as I plunged in.
And yet, it was as warm as bathwater. I ducked my head under the surface of the waves and treaded water for a minute, then hauled myself—sopping wet—up the metal ladder and jogged home, running shoes and t-shirt in hand, to shower and dry off.
Is there a metaphor somewhere in here? Unexpected warmth in unexpected places at unexpected times—but only if you dive in?
Or maybe it’s nothing as high-minded as that. Maybe it’s just an example of the neat phenomenon of how ocean water feels warmer than usual during a rainstorm—something to do with the contrast, I suppose. Weather never ceases to amaze me.
The other night, for example, a thunderstorm hit around 4 AM. I woke up to the sound of thunder—louder than I’ve ever heard. It boomed overhead, and a few seconds later the entire bedroom lit up as if someone had flipped a switch. Instead of passing through after a few minutes, the storm hung there—not decreasing in volume or power—for nearly an hour. Every couple of minutes the lightning would strike again; the house must have been smack in the center of the storm, and it would flood the room with so much light that it briefly looked like daytime.
I tried falling back asleep, pulling a sleep mask over my eyes, but to no avail. I might as well have been at some club in Soho (hahaha, remember going out?) what with all the noise and flashing light.
Awestruck as the storm left me, I also woke up tired from all the commotion. (I use thet term loosely—does it count as waking up if you barely slept?)
Days like that—similar to the ones in the early weeks with a newborn—can stretch out in front of you endlessly, as if the hours are an expanse of trail you have to traverse in order to get to the end (but here, rather than a mountain peak, the end is dinner and bed and possibly some ice cream).
It’s helpful for me to break up the time with nice and small tasks.
We take a walk to see the sailboats. We walk again in the afternoon to visit the two puppies a few doors down, and to walk by the brewery and see who’s drinking beer at 3 PM already, and to watch people queuing up in the lawn behind the coffee shop.
We prep dinner, cooking farro in salty boiling water until toothsome, then chopping up spinach and carrots to add in right before serving. That’ll go under golden, crispy-edged bratwurst sausage that I throw on the grill.
We fold laundry and wash blueberries and pick cherry tomatoes from the garden and stack cans of seltzer int the pantry cabinet.
And there’s still some time, so we bake muffins.
A note on this recipe: It might seem odd that there’s no baking powder in this recipe, as most muffin recipes call for quite a bit (usually 1 tablespoon) which is what helps them rise. But baking powder is just a mix of bicarbonate and a weak acid—often cream of tartar. Baking soda is sodium bicarbonate, so if you combine that with a weak acid in your recipe (in today’s case: yogurt), you’ll get the same leavening power. COOL, RIGHT?
Chocolate Rye Muffins
1 cup (120g) all-purpose flour
1 cup (106g) rye flour
1 cup (198g) sugar
1/2 cup (43g) cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 egg
1 cup (227g) plain whole-milk yogurt
3/4 cup (170g) milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup (113g) liquid coconut oil or melted butter
1 cup (170g) chopped dark chocolate or chocolate chips
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a standard muffin tin with paper liners.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the flours, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg, yogurt, milk, vanilla, and coconut oil or butter.
Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and fold gently until the batter is smooth and no dry spots remain.
Fold in the chocolate and scoop the batter (it will be thick) into the prepared muffin tin—I like to fill mine 3/4 of the way full.
Bake the muffins for about 20 minutes, or until a tester inserted into the center comes out clean.
Remove from the oven and let cool for at least 15 minutes before eating.