Happy Heart Day (almost)

Hope yours is full of love!

Snow bitchin' reversal of sorts

People, if whining and carrying on about winter were a profession, I would be wealthy beyond belief. I would be the CEO of the worldwide Ye Who Hate Being Cold Organization. I would live in the tropics and experience winter as nothing more than a rumor I hear from friends in northern climes. I would gleefully give away or, perhaps more satisfyingly, burn all of my long underwear and Smartwool socks. I would never need non-culinary salt, ice picks, snow shovels, sock hats, hand warmers, firewood and kindling stock piles, or extra heaters. I would never wear more than one layer of clothing. Sleeves would be forever an option. Truly, I despise the feeling of being cold, the kind of brr you can never really escape. I hate chills and hueless skies, those aftermaths of a heavy, gray shroud of gloom that supplants the sun and its warmth, that renders the vast horizon in any direction monotonous and glum. Drippy branches, soggy yards, red noses, clunky boots, thick marshmallow man parkas, hats that make your hair look absurd, the constant donning and shedding of all necessary gear...I am a full-on winter grump what with my Louisiana blood trying to course through my veins; this time of year, it is constantly foiled, reduced to proceeding at a seemingly glacial pace through constricted tunnels.

All of this admitted, I think and thank on these coldest, snowiest days, about how unbelievably, terribly lucky my family and I are. We have a home, warm clothes and several changes of them. We do have heaters and blankets and a fireplace and the makings for hot chocolate. We have these things regularly (well, mostly, Pepco; I do give you praise for doing a better job keeping our lights on this year!) and my children never have to worry about their absence or loss. Too many don't, and I am humbled by that awareness each and every time I worry about who's outside right now, who is freezing, lonely, terrified about how to feed themselves, their kids, their pets. My heart aches and I sometimes feel almost overwhelmed by my feelings of ineptitude. I am so grateful for organizations and shelters doing their damndest despite too-small budgets and staffs, to help and, often, save the homeless and unsheltered among us.

I'm going to remember this as I go bundle up to head outside to build snowmen with the boys. I don't want to go and romp in freezing powder but for me, it's an option from which I can bail at any point. And that is a true blessing and gift, and we are lucky.

Such a good, good dinner

My darling T has a wonderful new job. We are all terribly proud but it does require longer hours, and I miss him sometimes. Our nightly dinners together won't be quite so reliable anymore, he will surely see the kids less during the week, and his commute is longer too. Still, I am so happy for him and eager to see how he flies on these new wings. I had quite a nice day but was totally pooped by the time I got the kids in bed. I scurried downstairs to make some dinner, hungry and excited for T to get home. Midway through roasting carrots, searing cauliflower and prepping chicken, T called to say he'd be extremely late tonight and not to wait. Not to worry, tired me decided the next best thing was a marvelous meal for one. Yes, my trivet was an old cloth diaper (never used for diapering, mind you, just as a burp cloth; everyone should use cloth diapers as burp cloths and then repurpose them as children's napkins because they are indestructible and never let you down.), my placemat and napkin didn't match and the rest of the table looked (still looks) like an all-purpose office repository, but still, or perhaps because of all that, this meal was divine, and I simply must tell you all about it.

For starters, my boys were darlings this afternoon. Sure, Ol had five minutes of crazy before bedtime, but he was overtired from a seriously energetic and fun Valentine's Day party plus lots of cookies and sugar (I just had to make Ming Tsai's shortbread again! Mon dieu!). Ultimately, he was as dreamy and sweet as Jack, and I've already been in to each of their rooms once to cast a loving eye over them, taking them in in all their sleeping, quiet, precious glory.

When your kids are good, you really always start any subsequent venture -no matter how minuscule- extremely ahead of the curve. So perhaps I should have known dinner would turn out so well.

Anyway, I definitely wanted to make some lemon roasted carrots, trying my hand for the umpteenth time at perfecting Whole Foods' lemon roasted carrots recipe which, though always good, has eluded me. Until tonight. Haha, I've done it! How delightful. And how delicious. Perseverance, friends.

While those roasted, I sliced a cauliflower into thick steaks and seasoned each hunk with olive oil, salt and pepper. Naturally, I also heated my Lodge skillet over a high heat. Seared cauliflower steaks would also be mine.

The fresh farm chicken I'd thawed throughout today gave me pause. What to do with it to maximize its extraordinary natural flavor but also make things interesting, i.e. not the Seinfeld girlfriend who only ate plain chicken breasts. A quick glance around my kitchen brought me to terms with the number of dishes I'd already dirtied so I decided the chicken must return to one of them so as to make clean-up even slightly less onerous. The Lodge!

Meanwhile, those beautiful carrot tops were just lounging in lonely fashion next to the sink. "I can't compost you" I thought, "it's too cold and you are too pretty." So, a carrot top pesto to dollop over the chicken started taking shape in my mind. Hmm...walnuts just cuz, garlic, yada, yada. A first taste begged for some tang. Lemon! A second swipe of the finger suggested a depth of flavor and smell was needed. I don't know why, and I'm damn thankful for this, but the stinky Brie in my fridge, leftover from last Friday's mom's party, came to mind. A wedge of that flew into the food processor, and I swear it was love at first taste. This pesto is off the charts good. And with the chicken?? Which by the way I seared in hot butter? Amazing.

I could die. I am so damn satisfied right now, that I've decided not to clean up tonight. Not least because it's 9:30, T is still not home, I'm tired as get-out and have a meeting at 8:30 tomorrow morning PLUS Jack's return to the dentist at 11:30. Keep me in your thoughts, people, because if he gnaws another wound into his cheek and we then get the "ice storm of the century" that's being threatened, well, I just don't know if a happy Em that all will make.

For tonight, however, I remain cheerful and bid you bonsoir.