After we cleaned the kitchen and put away all the platters, I made myself a cup of tea and thought about what could be done differently. This Thanksgiving was our first year actually cooking and hosting and honestly, for two longtime ex-vegetarians, preparing a turkey feels like a pretty major task. The week before, we had family in town for Oliver's first birthday party and between baking cupcakes, ordering helium balloons and thinking through a simple brunch menu for close to 50 people, I felt pretty spent as far as entertaining was concerned. So Sam took on all things turkey, and I made my cranberry sauce and pie Wednesday night. A good compromise. And yet, it still felt like a lot for some reason and I found myself pacing around the house throughout the day, deliberately staying out of the kitchen and wondering at what point in adulthood things feel more natural (if not actually seamless) when it comes to entertaining during the holidays.
We moved into our 1931 brick Tudor house about a year and a half ago now, and thankfully we didn't have to do any major structural changes or pricey updates, but the house felt dark and cramped right away. If you're familiar with Tudor homes, the rooms are traditionally quite small, so have a few friends over and things can quickly start to feel tight. Throw a dog or a baby into the mix and it feels downright tiny at times. It didn't help that when we moved in, many of the rooms were painted dark shades of maroon and olive green, and the lighting fixtures were dated at best. After Oliver was born, we had lots of visitors and the dining room is where people would often gather. And for that reason, it was always the space I wanted to work on -- I was convinced this small, dark room could feel lighter and more spacious. So a few months ago I reached out to Rejuvenation to see if they were interested in working with me on styling the dining room and entry to make our home feel less dated and more open and welcoming. And it seemed after we were done, there was no better excuse for drinks and snacks.
A few months ago I showed you a glimpse into our wedding day, compiled from cell phone photos we'd managed to gather from friends and family. Then on Christmas Eve we received a package from our photographers with all of our photos. It was quite the early Christmas present, and I'd be remiss in letting 2014 come to a quiet close without sharing them with you. Looking back at these photos, what really strikes me are all of the moments that I simply don't remember -- or, frankly, wasn't there for. It looks like quite a party! As with many weddings, I suppose, we were pulled aside for photos every now and again and were trying to make sure to talk to each of our guests, many who'd traveled quite a long ways to come to Whidbey Island to help us celebrate. So there were dance-offs, cocktail circles and polaroid sessions that we just never saw ... until these photos. I've loved flipping through and looking at that golden September sunshine, all of our friends and family eating cake, dancing, meeting one another, drinking cocktails. Yes, there's a cocktail we must discuss here, too.
We're back! After a restful few days in Lake George, I ended up flying home while Sam spent a little time with his family in New Jersey and a few days in New York City by himself before taking the train all the way back to Seattle (a solid four day journey). If you know Sam, this isn't surprising; he loves trains. When he's gone, I quickly revert back to my single gal days of eating veggie quesadillas for dinner (over and over) and staying up working later than I'd like. We would talk on the phone often as Sam would narrate his very full days in New York City and the stops and layovers he had while on the train. After a few days of me lamenting the fact that I wasn't there to experience it all with him, he encouraged me to ditch the quesadillas and do something special for dinner. See a movie. Go to the museum for just an hour. In short: I needed to get better at dating myself.
I've tried to write this post a number of times over the past three weeks and failed. I've learned that when you get to be a certain age and you tell people you have big news to share, they assume you're pregnant. You assure them that's not it. Engaged! Nope, that's not it either. We're not getting a puppy and we're also not buying a house. Or a new car. But I am staying up late at night, pacing a lot, alphabetizing our spice cabinet, and cleaning odd nooks and crannies to try and really acquaint myself with the task at hand: I'm writing a cookbook! I will be working with the wonderful folks at Ten Speed Press on a whole grain breakfast cookbook coming out Fall/Holiday 2013. It will feature Marge granola recipes along with mueslis, warm grain cereals, breakfast bars and cookies, yogurts, seasonal fruit toppings and all sorts of other start-the-day goodness. There will be stories of mornings in San Francisco and here in Seattle, of starting a small business, and moving to a new city. I've been so looking forward to toasting with you all here, and can't wait to share some of this journey with you. It's going to be one busy summer.
I've always wanted to be from the South. Odd because I've only been to Austin, TX and many would say that hardly counts. Last week I tried to pick up some tips while in West Virginia. Like Austin, there's apparently quite a bit of debate about how truly Southern West Virginia is. But I'll tell you, it was humid, there were mosquitoes, mint juleps, biscuits at lunch, "ma'ams" and "ya'alls", a great deal of bacon, and bright floral wallpaper. I'll leave it to you to decide.
Last summer we chatted about Pimm's Cups and a list of things I wanted to do, feel, eat, and read during those few short months. But by its very nature, summer shouldn't warrant a list: it's a time when lists should ideally be thrown out the window and a little bit of whimsy should take the reigns. But I know so many of you can relate to the way in which weeks and months can whoosh on by and before you know it, peaches are out of season and the days are getting shorter. And for that reason, I tend to make summer lists. So here we have this year's version. I so encourage you to make your own and share one or two or all of them here. I'd love to hear yours. Truly.
Remember when you started middle school and didn't really know what to expect or what kind of shoes the other kids would wear or how the heck to open a damn locker? But within a matter of days you kind of slyly studied the older kids out of the corner of your eye and put together the pieces pretty quickly? Well the thing about a long-distance relationship is there aren't really any older kids to study closely and teach you exactly how it all goes down. I guess I should back up and say that I have a few wonderful friends (and so many of you who commented on the last post!), that have offered great advice and shining examples, but ultimately I think on this one -- there's much you must discover on your own. You have to account for two sets of schedules, different needs, and worries and joys. But you navigate, as you must. As you do.
I read a nice little post on The Blue Hour a few days ago that made me think. It was called "Where I'm At" (thus the name of this post) and was just kind of about sitting back and taking stock. One of the great things about blogging is the immediacy of it: you write something and you publish it and people read it right away. But so often, we're always making sweeping statements about the seasons, upcoming holidays, food trends, or traditions. Today that's not going to happen.
Have you walked into Staples lately? Well, I strolled in right before closing a few night's ago and was struck with a whole in-your-face Back to School extravaganza. Yikes. How is July almost over? Thankfully we're all about Indian Summers here in the Bay Area. But it did get me thinking that I should do some planning to make sure I squeeze in everything I want to do before September shows its face. I was inspired to make a Summer List by Molly who was inspired by Maria. Both jotted down things they wanted to eat, feel, and think about while the days are long and the evenings are warm. So here's mine. I encourage you to jot a few things down, too. And while you're at it, have a drink. Isn't that what summer's for? I recently discovered Pimm's and a quick and ruthless obsession was born. If you don't know Pimm's, it's a gin-based liquor that's a little bit citrusy, a little bit spicy, but extremely light and crisp. I sip it straight, I add it to bubbly water and squeeze in lemons from my mom's tree, I throw a bit into ginger beer or iced tea and give it a brisk stir. So in addition to your list, you can mix yourself up a quick Pseudo Pimm's Cup, my version of the original that's a tad bit bubbly, less sweet, and a little stronger. Just the way I like my drinks, as you already know. So here's to making lists, drinking summery drinks, wearing flip-flops every day, reading bad magazines, and not stepping inside a Staples until (at least) September.
If you've been around A Sweet Spoonful for awhile, you already know a few things: 1) I like strong drinks and 2) I don't often accept freebies or do giveaways on the site. With this next post, one of those things has changed. While I just don't see the relevance or need for plastic batter bowls that store batter in the handle (what?!), towels specially designed to sop up red wine, or acid-resistant bud vases (hmmm)--I do see the need and relevance for vodka. So when the kind folks over at SKYY vodka wrote to me to introduce their new Ginger infused vodka, I told them to send one on over. Quickly. It's been a tough few months. In thinking about how I wanted to mix it, I kept thinking how great it would be to pair it with fresh lime juice and mint. I didn't add any sweetener because, in addition to liking strong drinks, I dislike syrupy sweet ones. So if this has a bit too much of an edge for you, add a dash of simple syrup. But honestly, I think you'll like it. It screams outdoor patios and freshly mowed lawns. There's a drink out there called the Moscow Mule, which is basically vodka, fresh lime juice, and a few glugs of ginger beer. My recipe is in the same family but it's more like the Stiff Mule: we're not messing around here. I think I'll call it that.
For the past few days and for the remainder of the weekend, I'm house-sitting at my mom's house. Hallelujah. I'm amazed at what a little change of scenery can do for a girl. And before I get into that and the magic I've created with a few blood oranges, I want to thank you all for your comments on the last post. I feel so lucky to have such amazing readers, friends, and family. Thank you one hundred times over. Onward: Remember how I used to live at my mom's place before moving into the city? She lives about thirty minutes north of San Francisco in San Rafael, a beautiful but sleepy sort-of suburb. It's great to be back hanging out in the blooming backyard, snuggling with her dogs, catching up with bad gossip magazines, watching cable (such a luxury now!), feasting on homemade lasagna and brownies, and getting a good night's sleep. I'm actually really nervous to go back to my place on Monday, but I know I need to face my life there, too. There are changes to be made and conversations to be had. Oy. You know what makes facing life just a little bit easier? The bottle.
As many of you may recall, I lost one of my best friends earlier this fall. It's the saddest thing I've ever gone through. Sure, I've lost folks I love very much, but they've always been older and it's never been out-of-the-blue. But Jean was my age with dreams the size of Texas and a heart of solid gold. I'm talking 24-karat. I still have moments where something happens and I think about what a kick Jean would get out of it. Lady Gaga and Elton John at the Grammy's. Jersey Shore (no one loved bad reality TV more than Jean). This Friday would've been her 30th birthday, so I'm flying out to Boston to attend the first annual "Jean-a-bration." We're celebrating a big birthday and a big life that we all miss so dearly in a big way. And you know what? There's nothing that girl liked more than a party. I know she'll be proud. I've really never tried to celebrate an event or landmark when it's tinged with this much sadness--so we'll see how it goes. I guess there's no right or wrong way to go about it. I went to graduate school in Boston and haven't been back since. So I'm excited to visit all my old haunts. I'll take photos for you and share some of my favorite places to eat when I return. And if you have any favorite Boston spots, let me know! It's been a few years since I've been back, and I hear things have changed a bit, so I'd love any suggestions. In the meantime, I wanted to leave you one of the best comfort drinks I know, perfect for heavy hearts or just a really gray afternoon: Mexican hot chocolate made with Ibarra.
Over the past few days, I've seen seven apartments. And we're still looking. Some were unbelievably small, one only had heat "available" in one room (hmmm), and one of the landlords seemed legitimately insane. I actually dragged my mom around the city with me yesterday looking at places; she was a trooper. We did have many stops for fuel which helped ease the bustle/weirdness/stress/anxiety: Miette on Hayes St. for a gingerbread cupcake, La Boulange for a mini latte, and Paulette for an almond macaron to take home for later. I was thinking a cocktail was in order, but it was really only late afternoon. So I waited until we got home. Then it was time to put on a pot for mulled wine. I often have a glass of wine with dinner, but with the evenings becoming cold and even icy, why not have warm mulled wine instead? If you've never tried it, it has notes of citrus and warm spice and is perfect to ease the pain of dingy, disappointing apartments...or whatever it is that's ailing you at the moment. I got this recipe from Romney Steele's My Nepethe Cookbook. I have so many recipes bookmarked to try from the book that it almost seems silly that this simple drink recipe was the first up. If you missed it, Heidi over at 101 Cookbooks recently made Romney's Orange and Oat Scones and they looked awesome. Other stand out recipes I'm looking forward to trying are the Persimmon Pudding Cake, the Nepethe Cheese Pie, and Javier's Chile Rellenos. If you haven't seen Romney's book, it is a collection of recipes culled from her family's Big Sur Restaurant, Nepethe. While narrative cookbooks based around family lore are certainly nothing new, Romney's book is a bit different in that it speaks so much to how a singular place can color an upbringing, a family, a restaurant, and a community. Sara Remington's photography is absolutely stunning in that earthy, muted, moody style that displays and celebrates the landscapes and colors of Big Sur.
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.