I'm tired of gray days and icy streets. I want to put my gloves and wool hats away. I'll be pleased not to see my winter boots or down coat for a few months. I'm not exactly tired of comfort food - that would be going overboard - but I am beginning to daydream about lamb chops cooked outside over a wood fire and the first asparagus of the season, preferably dipped in the yolk of a fresh egg softly boiled.
I went upstate Thursday night, and Friday dawned - if you can call it that - dark and dreary. It was cold and bitter, and instead of feeling cozy working at the kitchen table with logs burning and cups of tea brewing, I just felt dismal. Saturday, which was supposed to be gorgeous, wasn't much better. But Sunday.
Well, THAT was another story.
Well, THAT was another story.
When I woke up Sunday morning, I knew something was up. I could get out of bed without making a run for a hot shower. The house was actu ally warm before the fire was stoked. Then the sun came blasting up, and the sky turned bluebird blue. I almost opened the windows, but I knew that would be pushing my luck. I listened to Jim Dale read The Half-Blood Prince while I ironed my duvet cover and didn't even mind that I was probably missing Ice Cream Day in the City. I just enjoyed the beautiful day and thought that spring really is right around the corner, and summer will soon be more than just a memory.
In the meantime, I will send you over to the beautiful Cannelle et Vanille to see Aran, whose recipe for pavlova I'm going to bookmark so I can make it as soon as sweet, local strawberries make their first appearance.
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