Food for Thought on a Cold Winter's Night
The New Year is such a funny time. Half the people are bragging about how they were the only people they knew who weren't hungover on New Year's Day, and the other half are going on about how clean they have gotten their closets. Whole Foods has a big giveaway featuring Cleanse Kits, which is no where near as exciting as the promos they had going with their Thanksgiving turkeys and holiday roast beefs. And everyone seems to be filled with a New Resolve worthy of a Ben Franklin maxim.
In a highly contrarian way, perhaps linked to the fact that I'm working on a zen book and trying to go to yoga as often as my emails allow, I am resolving not to touch my closet more than necessary, to hold off on Whole Foods' specials until something tasty--like truffled walnuts--gets offered again, and to just enjoy the journey.
Sometimes enjoying the journey means holding off on the purges and the self-improvement. Sometimes it means marshmallows in the hot chocolate and reading magazines instead of manuscripts. And sometimes it means that if we can't take care of ourselves, how can we possibly take care of others?
There is a season for everything. As arctic air blasts around H'town, cutting my palm trees and irises down despite the lacrosse jackets my husband lovingly wrapped around them, I declare that January is not the season of fasting and contrition for holiday sins, it's the season of hunkering down. We don't get winter often here, so like a Leap Day that can only be appreciated every four years, I plan on making the most of it.
Seasons come, and seasons go. And, of course, there is a book for all seasons. Now there is even a cookbook for all seasons, aptly named Seasonal Favorites. Here is the deal:
Seasonal Favorites is a collection of favorite festive foods from the Garden Club of Houston. Organized around the calendar year, it includes standard and more special holidays—like Veteran's Day and Day of the Dead. Anecdotes about special parties with all the details are included in each season, along with seasonal fare, party fare and planting tips. An inclusive way of looking at the year at home with family and friends, it features special recipes handed down for generations and flower arranging and gardening tips that will bring the beauty of the reader's own garden into the home; and it shares successful ideas for throwing warm and wonderful parties with friends and family—without having to hire a caterer.
Chock full of delicious and easy-to-prepare recipes, this inspired little book encourages us to create special times throughout the year by celebrating the cycle of life that is reflected in the garden. Many cookbooks promote holiday food, but most are based on standard holidays and only contain recipes. Seasonal Favorites offers proof that in our busy world, gracious living need not be a lost art.
Whether this collection augments your repertoire of holiday entertaining favorites or begins a new phase in your enjoyment of life, Seasonal Favorites promotes living life in a way that every sense can savor.
I wholeheartedly welcome a new phase of enjoyment into my life. 2009 is so over. To celebrate this official season of hunkering down, we are hitting the kitchen hard at our house. Corn chowder, apple pie, chili, hello dollies, and gallons of hot chocolate to wash it down. Will we run out of inspiration for our cozy comforts? With this little book around, no way.
Come spring, when bright green buds peek out of the branch tips, we'll be ready for a change of season. And perhaps we'll do some penance and some push ups for all these good eats. But for now, it's all about the comforts of the hearth.
There's only one word for this behavior, and it's not self-discipline. Nor is it restraint. Or spartan or belt-tightening or shaping-up or anything with even the vaguest connotation of gymnasium. The radio says this word is officially "out" for 2010. But I'll keep it. In fact, I'm making it my new mantra for January: Chillaxin'.
I hope this new, blue month finds you chillaxin' by the fire, with peace in your heart, pie on your plate, and a cup that runs over with the beverage of your choice.
Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.
~An Affair to Remember
On the Fourth Day of Thanksgiving my true love drank the whipping cream for the pie in his coffee and left to play golf.