So much of the first two decades of life is a constant switching of gears. I think about high school: 50 minutes of class followed by a rush to get to the next one. A swirl of girls in royal blue skirts and white polos spilling out into the wide hallways, a cacophony of metal locker doors banging shut and shrieking laughter and shoes slapping on slick red-and-white vinyl tile—then repeat, repeat, repeat until a hurried lunch and more classes—my mind spinning rapidly from the finer points of the defenestration of Prague in AP European History, to a sight reading of the first three lines of Vergil’s Aeneid Book 2 in the original Latin, to a tightly-scrawled page of notes on differential calculus equations. In the back of it all, I’m thinking about field hockey practice and hitting my drive harder on the jewel-green turf and what shirt to wear on Friday night and how a yet-unnamed boy’s hair looks when he flips the shiny flop of it off his face with a flick of his head.
Read moreSOUTHERN KITCHEN CINNAMON ROLLS
On Wednesday the snow started in mid-afternoon, coming down in fat, fluffy white flakes the size of quarters. I stood in the kitchen, looking out at the farm, and watched the world turn whiter and whiter, like standing inside the glass of a snow globe that was being shaken slowly.
Walking outside in the height of the snowstorm was beautiful, to put it lightly. Although the farm is always quiet by most people’s standards, I’m attuned to its noises: the tittering of cardinals and white-breasted nuthatches at the bird feeder, the snuffling of our Yorkshire pig Elliot as he ambles around the edge of the stream, the heavy breathing of the four Jersey cows plodding from the upper pasture, the lonely echoing call of geese high overhead.
Read moreCHEESY BEEF PASTA SKILLET (WITH MAGIC SAUCE)
It’s an odd holiday season, but it’s still a holiday season nonetheless. Twinkly white lights in the shape of ships are strung up above Main Street in town and when I take an evening walk, I can see Christmas trees glowing from within the houses along the water. As soon as the day melts into dusk, I turn the music in the house to either the classical holiday or the Etta James/soul holiday station.
Read moreSTICKY ORANGE ROLLS
I have a trick I use when I’m sad or scared or anxious. (Actually, I hesitate to call it a “trick” because it comes to me entirely unbidden—I don’t perform it as an exercise, but I slip into it reflexively and without intention.)
Here’s what I do: I imagine myself inside a children’s book. Not just any book though: the sort that has a little town in it, beautifully rendered in images. There’s a library, full of shelves of books in jewel tones, and a friendly librarian who peeks over her half-moon glasses at you. There’s a candy shop with glass jars of brightly colored gumdrops and jumbo swirled lollipops and baskets of taffy twisted up in waxy pastel paper.
Read moreJAMMY STAR BREAD
Here’s how I used to make scrambled eggs: Crack eggs carefully into a mini blender with a tiny bit of olive oil. Add a pinch of sea salt. Blend on high until frothy. Melt butter in a nonstick skillet before pouring in the eggs. Cook on very low heat, stirring constantly, until creamy and just barely set. Don’t worry about the fact that it takes you 15 minutes to babysit your eggs because girl, you’ve got time! Relax!
Here’s how I make them now: Start to melt butter in pan. Crack egg directly into pan with one hand before butter is even warm while unloading dishwasher with other hand. Stir furiously over high heat. Flip eggs out into a bowl a minute later. (Spoiler alert: They are basically as good this way as the first method.)
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