The breakfast room is bright; sunlight streams in through the palladian windows. The air smells of bacon and coffee and the subtle saltiness of sea air drifting in from off the sound. A platter of croissants and slices of lightly toasted Portuguese bread sits on the center of the table, flanked by delicate Royal Delft dishes holding softened butter, marmalade, and beach plum jam. Will saunters in, his hair tousled and his shirt rumpled, testament to the late hour he stumbled home the night before. Despite the gorgeous day unfolding and the leisurely breakfast awaiting them, there’s tension humming in the room.
Read moreAPPLE PEAR STREUSEL CAKE
The farm stand is situated just off the side of the road—tucked behind a beautiful old farmhouse with a wraparound porch. The stand itself is a ramshackle wooden building that’s open in the front and on both sides so that people can wander around the tables full of pumpkins and lean down to pick up an apple from the bushel baskets lining the pathway. A strong gust of wind could probably blow the whole thing over, she thinks, but then reconsiders—this very structure has likely withstood the force of generations of Maine winters, weathering the snow and ice with its steadfast, stoic presence.
Read moreBLUEBERRY ALMOND CRUMB BARS
She cranes her neck, stopping so abruptly in front of a Barnes & Noble that a man in a sharply tailored navy suit and camel coat walking briskly behind her almost steps on the heels of her ballet flats (cerise suede from J.Crew, a pair she ogled for weeks in the window of the Fifth Avenue store before finally buying).
“Anna!” she hisses, grabbing her sister by the arm. “Stop, stop!” Her sister stops and looks around. “What? We’re still two blocks away, I just checked.”
Read moreBIRTHDAY 1-2-3-4 cake
A year and three days ago, almost to the hour, I stood in the kitchen of our New York City apartment and thought about lunch. It was sunny outside, but cold, and I didn’t want to try and stretch the zipper of my down jacket over my very pregnant stomach. My husband typed away at his hastily built standing desk on the marble island. He’d been planning to start two weeks of paternity leave once I gave birth, but of course life loves a good PLOT TWIST, and here’s a good one for you: Five days earlier, he came home from work complaining of a stomachache that increased rapidly in severity, until he swore he had to go to the ER. I stayed home, heavily pregnant and silently (okay not so silently) cursing him for taking the risk of walking into a hospital waiting room with this confusing, nebulous threat of a virus hanging over us. People were just starting to throw around the words pandemic and quarantine.
Read moreGRAPEFRUIT CARDAMOM OLIVE OIL CAKE
Heavy rainfall three days ago melted the heaps of snow that had piled up against the boxwoods in front of the house. Once the clouds cleared, the sun appeared against a sky painted all lustrous, sheer blue—ice on the roof dripped in slow, languid trickles down the kitchen windows. The intervening days have been cold but sunny: they feel like spring, like I’m stepping outside into the words green and fresh.
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