Happy Thanksgiving

Because of extended family travel schedules, we celebrated Turkey Day today. These were my dessert contributions and a stuffed-family aftermath pic. Gobble, gobble. 

TG 2015 apple pie

TG 2015 pecan pie

TG 2015 blackberry pie

TG 2015 bourbon-caramel pumpkin tart

My boys and me

Tomorrow morning? The Turkey Trot For Hunger downtown and then, a day of rest, more turkey and togetherness.

A newly published piece and some fantastic food

Each November, Fox News online produces Thankful Nation, a segment featuring essays from and interviews with celebrities and regular folks. I believe that gratitude transcends ideology and am sincerely thrilled to join the Thankful Nation crew by sharing this essay about Nanny. Thank you to everyone -friends, family, and strangers alike- for the wonderful notes and comments throughout today. I’m happy so many of you have memories of blackberry pie too.

The past two days have reminded me what real cold feels like. The kind that cuts through your clothes and slices straight to your bones. The kind that leaves you longing for a warm fire and a big bowl of steaming soup.

Yesterday, Oliver and I bundled up and spent nearly two hours at the farmers market. He loves being there like I do: fully and with patient enthusiasm. He wolfed down a fresh-from-the-wood-oven margherita pizza. He delighted in the "longest eclair" the French bakers had, adding chocolate cream to the tomato sauce spotting the canvas also known as his face. He helped me choose sunchokes (bottom right) and turnips (bottom left), sampled apples and cider too. He flirted with our friend at the butcher's stall. We helped hands and laughed the whole time.

Using most of the sunchokes this evening, I did make soup: a huge vat (because it freezes well) of my sublime Leeky Sunchoke Bisque which I look forward to each year and which never disappoints. This plus some of this gorgeous bread made a hearty, warming, lip-smacking dinner tonight. Even Tom didn't balk about the absence of any meat.

Leeky Sunchoke Bisque

Now, we are jumping lanes here but it's still food-related. 

Last October, when I met some writer friends in New Mexico, I learned a bit about using dried red chiles to make sauce. I've had a gorgeous homemade ristra of NM chiles hanging and drying in my pantry window, and I pluck from it when the mood strikes. It's nearly 75% gone now and the peppers are marvelous as ever. Next time I make these chili tacos, I'll write down my recipe because they are insanely satisfying.

turkey, black bean, red chile tacos

All to say that we've been eating well, and I'm glad about it. 

Cheryl Strayed, the best pedicure color, funny story, yum

The utter randomness of that post title pretty much sums of my week. Let me also add that I completely forgot about Safari's recent crash proclivity, typed up an entire post yesterday and watched it disappear before my eyes in a flash. I drank from this, then.

applejack rabbit

And shut my computer and finished readying things for the fourth grade parent potluck we were soon to host. 

I love this school tradition. T and I host a potluck or two each year and always have such a fun, enriching night. We are so lucky to be part of such a fascinating community of parents and kids. Last night was no exception. Added bonus, look at this toasted coconut tart one friend brought. Lawd a mercy!

Earlier this week, I took a pal with me to hear Cheryl Strayed present her new book, Brave Enough. Essentially crowd-sourced, It's a compilation of quotes from her previous works that have resonated most often with readers. I'm not wild for it, but Cheryl is a deeply insightful, seriously lovely, funny woman, and I felt lucky to hear the many pearls of wisdom she shared. To paraphrase...

"We're all going to suffer. The best way to handle that is to carry it with us. What do you do with the ugliest thing you receive? I tried to make the ugliest thing beautiful." 

As anyone who's read anything by Strayed, you know that she's talking about her mother's death. 

"I reached rockbottom after she died. But she loved me so much and so well, and I felt I owed it to her to live a better life." That "glimmer" is what we must all search for when we sink toward the lowest depths because "ultimately there are things only we can do for ourselves. We are in charge of our own narrative- what defines/rules us? Does something bad define or teach us?"

Veering left, I need to tell you about a fabulous new pedicure color by OPI: Ro-MAN-ce on the moon. If you want a festive, sexy, gorgeously rich color, get ye to a salon and find this hue. I intended to take a pic of my toes to further entice you, but then I looked at said pic of my toes and realized that was not a good plan. Feet. Kinda yuck. Love mine in great heels but a close-up shot? Not as much.

On Friday, while dealing with the parking meter in front of the salon where I was about to discover Ro-MAN-ce on the moon, Jack called. I tell y'all, thick twice about teaching your children to use the phone. I had been gone not twenty minutes, the babysitter with the kids was there for only the third time, and I was dying for my 2.5 hours of solitude. I mean, I was getting a gingerbread latte AND a pedicure, people. A big event for this mom. 

So, Jack's sobbing into the phone about how Oliver was chasing him with a plunger suctioned to his tummy, and Jack had sustained an injury of sorts AND spilled his apple cider. I insisted on speaking to Oliver. Keep in mind that I'm standing on the sidewalk in between one of the busiest streets in DC and a Starbucks. North Georgetown, rush hour. People everywhere.

"Oliver, YOU HAVE LOST DESSERT PRIVILEGES."

"Why, Mama?" Cue his tears.

"YOU CANNOT CHASE PEOPLE WITH PLUNGERS. YOU CANNOT HIT THEM WITH PLUNGERS."

It occurred to me, then, that I must sound like a complete lunatic. Who else yells into a phone that another person simply must stop chasing and hitting others with toilet utensils?

It is always something. Happy Sunday, friends.