All posts filed under: restoratives

spring weeds and how to eat them, on a raisin & a porpoise

weed eater

Last night our whole family went to a party, and we danced.  My oldest daughter danced with her dad.  My little son danced with me.  The girls danced with each other, and with their brother, and we all danced together.  What did you guys do right, asked a friend, and how did you do it? Beats me.  I can tell you a lot about where I think I missed the mark as a parent, including several times yesterday afternoon.  I can sometimes tell when I have hit the mark, or gotten near it, but even saying that makes me wonder where and what the mark even is.  All I can tell you about the dancing is I don’t know how or why it’s possible, but I definitely felt the happiest I have felt in recent memory while it was going on. This is not going to be a Mother’s Day post.  It is also not going to be a Why I Hate Mother’s Day post because there are plenty of good ones about that, and …

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big teas

A little housekeeping first: the subscription link over there in the sidebar finally works. Apologies for the long time when it didn’t.  Ice packs for the lump on my head from banging it on the desk trying to fix it gratefully accepted.  I have almost every confidence that if you sign up using the new gizmo, you will actually receive an alert when I post. And believe me, you won’t want to miss even one of the intimidatingly challenging and exotic recipes you have come to expect here. To wit, today’s offering: a cup of tea. “You may have noticed,” said my son this morning, “that I have begun to really like toast.” He comes by it honestly. There is a long double genetic line of inheritance behind this fondness of his, with both parents coming from toast-centric households. It’s only a mild understatement to say that in my opinion, buttered toast and hot tea are two of the cornerstones of a nice life, as well as two of the most direct routes to re-establishing …

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baked custard with anise

eating light

I am back. Mostly. I have just spent a week taking care of someone I love who has been very sick for a long time, something a circle of us have been doing in rotation for over a year.  We travel, short distances and long.  We do what we can and often that takes the form of things we thought we couldn’t. This time I crossed an ocean. Now I am in that odd physical state of suspension between time zones, where I want to check my watch when I am hungry to see what meal I should eat, and my heart is in at least two places, too.  And there is what my West Indian friend used to call “ruction” all around me, beyond this gnarly situation of mine: one friend lost her dad two weeks ago, and now her brother is in the hospital facing terrible odds.  Another friend’s mother died, and her brother is in the same condition. Flu and blizzards.  Falls and accidents. I want light, just a morsel of it, …

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