It's been a week, let me say. Highs and lows. The frenetic, happy pace of the holidays gave way to the calm, quiet rhythm of my daily routine back in the city. Being home with my sisters for Christmas is like stock-piling happiness, leaving me with a residual warmth to carry back to New York. But no matter how lovely my time away is, there's such a comfort in returning to a simple, expected structure. (Hi, can you tell I'm an introvert?)
Read moreGINGERED PEAR + CRANBERRY PIE
My presents are arranged across the kitchen table, awaiting their wrapping paper and Scotch tape and silky ribbons. I say arranged although perhaps strewn would be a more appropriate word choice. Before I wrap them, I'll organize them into piles: first divided into stocking presents and under-the-tree presents, then stacked by recipient.
Read moreSNOW DAY ALMOND SHEET CAKE
The electric feeling in the air before a snowstorm reminds me of being little again. There's a giddiness and a building anticipation; throughout the city, the energy feels heightened. The grocery stores are busier, everyone seems chattier. The television screens inside nail salons and sports bars hum with red headlines promising "up to 6 inches!" and images of handsome weathermen interspersed with still shots of previous winters: Central Park blanketed in snow, cabs swerved on icy roads, and so on.
Read moreHONEY LEMON ALMOND CAKE
What marks a life well-lived better than cake? The happiest, most celebratory moments are marked by it. I tick through brightly-colored memories in flavors of cake. Wedding cake. Birthday cake. Sunday morning coffeecake. Post-field hockey game apple cake. Chocolate lava cake after high school nights out. Funfetti cake from a mix after college nights out. Chiffon cake, frosted Yule logs at Christmas, simple yogurt cakes topped with fresh strawberries from the garden all summer.
Read moreEXTRA-MOIST BANANA BREAD
Some of you (Hello! You're lovely, you unknown readers out there, waking up on Sunday all over the world, making coffee in a tiny apartment in San Francisco or steeping tea in a sunlit, white-washed kitchen in Connecticut or dressing your smiling, chubby toddler in a messy bedroom somewhere or sleepily walking to a workout class on Columbus Avenue in Manhattan) have asked about the poetry. You've asked where I find it. The truth is that (outside of school) I've never read much poetry until this past year.
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