Wildly cold Wednesday

It is SO cold here today. I am one of those stubborn fools who really hates winter hats (I do have a beautiful cloche but my head is a touch too large for it so it pops up like a whack-a-mole that won't die) despite their obvious utility, I much prefer to go sockless and tend to do so unless the temp drops below 35, and having been forced to wear a Michelin-tire-guy parka throughout college simply can't bear to don anything similar now. As you might imagine, I am often cold during winter. I like the season for about three weeks and then I simply lose patience. It's a good thing we no longer live in Boston. In any case, the sun was out this morning, and Percy was champing at the bit for a walk. I put on a long sleeve shirt, a sweater, a wind-proof yet unlined jacket, and gloves; really, that's an aggressive outfit for me. Not three minutes into the walk, I put my hood up. A minute later we picked up the pace. Fifteen minutes in found us hauling arse back home. It "feels like" 24 which is flipping cold. I think Percy agreed. As I told someone yesterday, "February is the poison thorn in the side of the year."

I'm now ensconced inside, warily eyeing the barren trees shivering in the breeze outside, happy to have a good deal of homework to do and two hours until I must head out once more. I think I'll make a pot of tea and a bit of a snack. I'm hungry, but for what?

Ridiculously good Meatless Monday (or any day) dinner

Ohmygod, this was so good. Firstly, I would like to note just how great a nap can be. I got one today because, as it was President's Day which only means to me no-school-for-the-boys and Tom was leaving for Boston, I'd arranged for a fave babysitter to come for a few hours. During that time, I showered and then fell asleep reading. This was an insanely luxurious treat for anytime but especially the middle of the day. Unfortunately, per the usual, I awoke slightly nauseous- does this happen to you? It's far preferable to waking up as a pissy zombie which used to be my nap aftermath, but nausea sucks, particularly if you get it from attempting to catch up on sleep, for the love. Nonetheless, a bit of time and a nice snack alleviated all unpleasantness and I've been full of pep since.

Jack taught me to play chess, and in front of a fire and surrounded by hot chocolate (both of which I'd promised the boys), we embarked on a great game. He's not Bobby Fischer as far as I can tell, but he's damn good for having learned it three weeks ago, and he was a wonderful teacher. Kudos to J! Oliver, meanwhile, undressed in phases but with the definite goal of frolicking around the house naked which he ultimately did for quite some time. What a thrill.

After I tucked them in, I looked around the house with horror. Truly, you cannot fathom such a mess. I expended some of my pep during a frenzy of cleaning and then settled in to cook a good meal. I am so glad I did.

I heated up my cast iron skillet and in it seared cauliflower "steaks" a la Dan Barber (slice a whole cauliflower top to bottom, through the stem, into thick steaks): brushed with vegetable oil and seasoned generously with salt and fresh pepper. He hit the nail on the head when he cooked cauliflower this way; it is scrumptious. Concurrently, I roasted the rest of the cauliflower (which I'd separated into florets) with these gorgeous rainbow carrots, some garlic, olive oil, cumin and coriander. On a different sheet, I roasted chopped celery root tossed just with olive oil, salt and pepper.

When all was said and done, I took the five cloves of garlic I'd roasted and blended them with the juice of a blood orange, a knob of crème fraîche, some olive oil, salt and pepper. This was my dressing which I used to drizzle my veggies. Divine. Had I not, at that point, felt too lazy to top everything with some freshly sauteed bread crumbs, I'd have done so. But alas, lazy won, and still, all is well!

Aunt Da's tea cookies, reimagined

My beloved grandmother, Nanny, was a surprise baby, coming along when her two older sisters were teenagers. I never met Aunt Elia as she died before I was born, but I grew up not far from Aunt Da (short for Hilda). She was my mother's favorite aunt, and I remember her and her home with such clarity. The house, the one in which she, Nanny and Aunt Elia grew up, was on a corner lot in the old part of Lake Charles, right near the train tracks. My sister and I used to go put pennies on the tracks, quickly scram until after the trains whizzed by, and then eagerly go and fetch our flattened, paper-thin, copper treasures. Aunt Da's front porch housed several of those old fashioned metal lawn chairs that come in a spectrum of vivid hues and in her backyard she grew all sorts of flowers and hung her laundry to dry. Her kitchen was at the rear of the house. Good smells ceaselessly emanated from it, and she always had a stash of something yummy in the icebox (as she called it) or on the counter: a lemon meringue or french silk pie or a canister of tea cookies perhaps. Her kitchen sink was deep, one of those old enamel types that's forever cold and will last forever. Aunt Da used to wash my hair in there. Her strong, gnarled hands so capably and gently massaged green Prell into sudsy mounds which she'd rinse with cold water shot through with a bit of white vinegar, if memory is accurate.

She died when I was in middle school I think. It was so long ago, I can't truly recall, but I know my Mom missed her daily for years afterwards and dreamed of her regularly. There are still pictures of Aunt Da at Mom's house and at Nanny's too. They all capture her kindly, wrinkled face, a countenance in which you could see years of hard work but also a strength and depth of love that seemed never-ending.

This morning, I found myself thinking of her tea cakes, simple cookies made with butter, flour, sugar and so forth. Nothing fancy at all but always good, and the sort of thing that immediately zips me back to her kitchen, time spent with her. I pulled out her recipe and sought to reimagine it a bit: could I use marzipan instead of vanilla? could I make them just a tad less dense by switching from all-purpose flour to a combination of cake and whole wheat pastry? What about making them more literally TEA cakes by adding some loose tea? All of these ideas came to fruition beautifully, deliciously, and I think Aunt Da would have enjoyed these. Hers were always wonderful but these are truly lovely too. I'll post both recipes for you soon.