Laying Low Before the Big Day


Thanksgiving is here, my friends. I know this isn’t new news–if you’re anything like me, you’ve been making and revising lists, running errands, and having a drink as soon as it’s socially acceptable to do so.


For the past few days, I’ve been house/dog/teenage sitting at my Dad’s house. And Lincoln, their sweet chocolate lab, was a rescue dog so he doesn’t love being alone. For some, this would be a burden. But I’ve used this as an excuse to hunker down and do some writing, go on long Lincoln walks, take some photos around the neighborhood, and make hot spiked cider in the evening while lounging on the couch catching up with back issues of The New Yorker.



I got the recipe for this cider from the bartender at The Edgewater Hotel in Seattle. I’d come in freezing after a day at Bainbridge Island and asked her if she could make me something hot and strong. Pretty much the second I got back to California (well, not really–I waited a few days), I went out to buy some Tuaca, and have been making one of these guys every night since. If you’re not familiar with Tuaca, it’s an Italian liquor comprised of brandy, hints or citrus, vanilla, and cloves. It’s made by the Tuoni and Canepa families of Livorno, Italy but it’s easy to find here in the States. Any well stocked liquor store should carry it. So in these looming days of traveling, packing, family, food, errands, and the like–take a little time out with this hot cocktail. Trust that I’ll be doing the same.

Hot Spiked Cider

Hot Spiked Cider

  • Yield: 1 cup

Ingredients

1/2 cup cider
2 oz Tuaca
a few shakes cinnamon
cinnamon stick
whipped cream, optional

Instructions

Pour cider in a small saucepan. Drop cinnamon stick in, and warm on stove top for about ten minutes.

Pour 2 oz. Tuaca into your glass, and fill the rest of the way with the warmed cider. Shake a bit of ground cinnamon into the glass and top with whipped cream and a cinnamon stick if desired (it’s great without the whipped cream, too).

Comments

  1. Mo

    Megan - This is just what I've been looking for - yay! Can't wait to give it a try. And BTW - you're photos are looking AWESOME these days.

  2. Mardi @eatlivetravelwrite

    Never heard of Tuaca but that drink sounds perfect for our annual holiday open house...

    Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. Me, am thankful to have "met" lovely friends like you over the past few months...

  3. El

    Looks cozy and delicious. Have a great holiday!

  4. Megan Gordon

    Thank you, Mo!

    And Mardi: I used a Canon Rebel Xsi. It's been working out well so far. Practice, practice, practice!

  5. Jen @ My Kitchen Addiction

    Sounds like you had a wonderful, relaxing day. The cider sounds delicious... one of my favorites! Love the picture of the doggy. Very cute!

  6. Sophie

    That drink sounds so good to me!!

    MMMMMM,...just really comforting on these cold winter evenings!

  7. Kelsey

    I love this cocktail! I am just catching up after two weeks of holiday/birthday/sick kid craziness. now - onto Christmas! What cocktail is next?!

  8. Megan Gordon

    Thank you Sophie, Jen, and Kelsey.

    I'm thinking mulled wine is up next, Kelsey...I have a nice recipe from the Neptenthe cookbook.

  9. Yasmine

    We have the exact same glass you used! Except we're Arabians and use it for tea. :D

Join the Discussion

Winter Soups and Stews

Smoky Butternut Squash and Three Bean Chili

Smoky Butternut Squash and Three Bean Chili

If your house is anything like ours, last week wasn't our most inspired in terms of cooking. We're all suffering from the post-election blues -- the sole upside being Oliver's decision to sleep-in until 7 am for the first time in many, many months; I think he's trying to tell us that pulling the covers over our heads and hibernating for awhile is ok. It's half-convincing. For much of the week, instead of cooking, there'd been takeout pizza and canned soup before, at week's end, I decided it was time to pour a glass of wine and get back into the kitchen. I was craving something hearty and comforting that we could eat for a few days. Something that wouldn't remind me too much of Thanksgiving because, frankly, I can't quite gather the steam to start planning for that yet. It was time for a big bowl of chili.

Read More
5 Tips For Cooking with a Baby + Power Greens Soup

5 Tips For Cooking with a Baby + Power Greens Soup

Last weekend it was so windy – apocalyptically stormy, you could say – that our tent at the farmers market was uprooted by gusts of wind that were not messing around. I wasn't there, but apparently despite being heavily weighted down and with four customers holding onto each corner, it quite literally blew down the block. Sam, from across town, was reporting trees falling on every block and traffic lights out across the city. The next morning on a walk with Oliver around Green Lake, we were met with that same biting wind and ended up retreating for a hot chocolate instead. 'Tis the season in Seattle: we all get a little giddy and ahead of ourselves when we spot the cherry blossoms and daffodils, and I always trick myself into thinking that with the start of daylight savings time,  summer must be right around the corner. In truth, before we had Oliver, we'd often travel somewhere sunny for a little mood boost around this time of year. When I moved from California, many friends – other (empathetic) 'expats' now living in the Pacific Northwest – recommended this: if you know what's good for you, they'd all say, go find the sun in February or March, and we would follow that advice faaaaaithfully. But with a baby, this just isn't where our priorities are this year, and I've found myself relying on other antics like buying out of season strawberries, drinking white wine with dinner, buying a new pair of sandals that likely will not see the light of day for the next two months, and making big, colorful pots of feel good, springy soup. Let's not kid ourselves: Cherry blossoms or not, Seattle's no Palm Springs when it gets down to bathing in the sunlight. But if you step outside onto your little porch, smell the honeysuckle blooming, take notice of the longer, lighter days and think about how you simply can't wait to see your baby crawling around on the sand when it's warm enough to stroll down to the beach, it starts looking better in its own light. 

Read More
Minestrone Verde with White Beans and Pesto

Minestrone Verde with White Beans and Pesto

We returned home from San Francisco on New Years Eve just in time for dinner, and craving greens -- or anything other than baked goods and pizza (ohhhh San Francisco, how I love your bakeries. And citrus. And winter sunshine).  Instead of driving straight home, we stopped at our co-op where I ran in for some arugula, an avocado, a bottle of Prosecco, and for the checkout guys to not-so-subtly mock the outlook of our New Years Eve: rousing party, eh? They looked to be in their mid-twenties and I figured I probably looked ancient to them, sad even. But really, there wasn't much sad (or rousing, to be fair) about our evening: putting Oliver to bed, opening up holiday cards and hanging them in the kitchen, and toasting the New Year with arugula, half a quesadilla and sparkling wine. It wasn't lavish. But it's what we both needed. (Or at least what we had to work with.) Since then, I've been more inspired to cook lots of "real" food versus all of the treats and appetizers and snacks the holidays always bring on. I made Julia Turshen's curried red lentils for the millionth time, a wintry whole grain salad with tuna and fennel, roasted potatoes, and this simple green minestrone that I've taken for lunch this week. Determined to fit as many seasonal vegetables into a bowl as humanly possible, I spooned a colorful pesto on top, as much for the reminder of warmer days to come as for the accent in the soup (and for the enjoyment later of slathering the leftover pesto on crusty bread).

Read More
Simple Cooking: Pasta and Chickpea Soup

Simple Cooking: Pasta and Chickpea Soup

One of the things I wanted to accomplish before really returning to work in earnest was to print some of our honeymoon photos and get them into an album. This project has taken far longer than expected as I find myself daydreaming about the craggy streets of Naples and meeting up with our friends Mataio and Jessica for a late night slice of pizza which we ate sitting on the sidewalk before embarking on an aimless but wonderful stroll of the city. There are photos of our balcony by the sea, most with tanned limbs, sandy sandals and a Campari and soda gracing the periphery of the frame. There was the little grocery store up the hill from our apartment on the Amalfi Coast that had the sweetest, tiniest strawberries and the best yogurt in little glass jars. Tomatoes drying in the sun, Aperol spritzes and salty peanuts before dinner at the bar across from the church square where all the neighborhood kids played kickball. As I sit here typing this now, photos remain scattered on my desk and it's likely they may not make it into the proper slots in the album anytime soon. Of course, they have me dreaming of sunshine and long days with little agenda, but they also have me thinking about the simplicity of our meals in Italy and how truly easy it was to eat well. Coincidentally, a few days ago Rachel Roddy's lusty new cookbook (can we call it lusty?!), My Kitchen in Rome, arrived at our doorstep. Clearly it was time to set the photos aside and get into the kitchen. 

Read More
Returning Home

Returning Home

And suddenly, it's fall. I find that realization always comes not so much with the dates on the calendar as it does the leaves on the ground, the first crank of the heat in the morning, the dusky light on the way home from an evening run. Because we were gone on the train for nearly a week, I feel like fall happened here in Seattle during that very time. I left town eating tomatoes and corn and returned to find squashes and pumpkins in the market. It was that quick. And so, it only seemed fitting that I make this soup, one that has graced the fall table of each and every apartment (and now house) I've ever lived. In fact, I'm surprised that I hadn't yet made it for you here, and delighted to share it with you today. 

Read More