Springtime may be happening in some parts of the world, but it is not happening here yet, and it won't for some time. There is nary a whisper of its coming, just Old Man Winter rattling his icy talons, rampaging through bare trees in the garden, roaring down the chimney and delighting in our glum expressions.
I feel cauldrons of soup, meatloaf and sourdough coming on this morning, also molasses cookies and scones. Stirring up such things is comforting when the wind howls in the rafters, and I can't see my neighbor's veranda for towering heaps of snow.
The teapot is warming, the kettle is burbling happily, and my favorite mug awaits. It is time to pull out Sarah Leah Chase's New England Open-House Cookbook and hatch a few culinary plots, also Alexandra Stafford's Bread Toast Crumbs, and The Art of Simple Food (I & II) by Alice Waters. Yum, we can do this.
This afternoon, I will curl up in a comfortable corner with a mug of tea and continue reading Richard Grant's delightful (and hilarious) Tex and Molly in the Afterlife. Let the wind and the season and this bitterly cold day do what they will.