Cooking for one: the Squash and Carrot Soup Adventure

It isn’t often that I commit to following a recipie. But… I had a squash and it was too cool outside to do much. Staying inside and making soup seemed like a good idea.

The recipie I found called for Butternut squash. I don’t know what kind of squash I had, but a squash is squash. And, I knew I liked the kind I had. At least I liked it last year.

So, I found the recipie on line and pulled out the main ingredients. It’s lucky that I just bought a big bag of carrots because the recipie called for 2 cups of thin slices. (I don’t have a mandoline / slicer. I had one once. I gave it away after I discovered that it sliced fingers as easily as it sliced veggies.) Creating 2 cups of thin carrot slices seemed like it would be an eternal task, so I turned on the tv. There’s nothing like distraction to make cooking go easier.

(I considered only making half a recipie, but realized that if I made the full recipe I could skip cooking the next time I wanted soup. I love having stuff in my freezer, even though I can never find what I’m looking for without emptying it.)

With the carrots cut, I took on the 3/4 cup of chopped onion. Fortunately, this onion didn’t make me cry, but the lack of anything interesting on tv almost did. I feel bad for people who rely on tv to entertain them day after day. Maybe they’re just more tolerant than I am, or have a broader range of interests. Whatever it is, I hope I don’t have to develop it.

Pealing the squash was the next step. However, my pumpkin-like squash was really hard and had all those dents and curves to deal with. There was no way I’d be able to acutally peel it — unless (yes there’s always a way) I put it in the micro. Jabbing it with a sharp knife so it wouldn’t explode in the micro brought a few tense moments when I couldn’t get the knife out, but I perservered. (Did I spell that right?) Anyway, I didn’t quit and was rewarded, 10 or 15 minutes later, when I was able to gingerly peel the hard shell off the almost cooked, one billion degrees hot, squash.

At last all the main ingredients were ready. The next step was to melt a tablespoon of butter (I used oleo) in a big pan. That shouldn’t have presented any problems, but I hate my stove. For years I had a gas stove and loved being able to change the heat instantly. This stove is electric. It takes forever to heat and forever to change temprerature — and I’m stuck with it. So, I put the oleo in the pan, turned on the burner and stood over the pot, watching so the oleo would melt and not burn. Success! I added the carrots, onions and squash, put the cover on the pot as instructed, set a timer for eight minutes (per the recipie) and went to see if I could find anything worth watching on tv. I lucked out. Jeopardy came on.

The veggies were supposed to be soft when the timer went off, but of course they weren’t. The burner probably wasn’t hot enough to cook them, so I set the timer again and reread the recipe. It called for two 14.5 ounce cans of reduced-sodium chicken broth. Well. I fluffed that ingredient off and substituted what I had: 2 packets of dried low-sodium chicken bullion which I added to two cups of hot water. (As long as I was heating water, I heated extra and made myself a cup of English Breakfast tea as a reward for cooking.)

The recipie said to add the chicken broth to the veggies and let the combo cook for 25 minutes. I added my broth. Setting my timer again, I headed for the couch to watch the rest of Jeopardy and enjoy my tea. Going back to the kitchen to during commercials to stir the soup added steps to my daily count, and getting up and down from my chair took care of one of the exercise requirements of a program I’m taking. (If I’d known the homework included exercise I would have given more thought to signing up.)

The cooking time passed quite pleasantly. I was hardly in the kitchen at all. However, the carrots and some of the squash were still hard. I gave it a little more cooking time and went back to watch Final Jeopardy. The guy I was rooting for didn’t win, but the end was exciting. Only one of the contestents knew the answer, but I did! (Sometimes it pays to be old. You know or lived through stuff the younger generation doesn’t pay attention to.)

The last step, after the veggies were soft, was to put part of the potential soup into a blender and blend it until it’s smooth, then repeat the process until all the ingredients are smooth and blended together. Small catch. I don’t have a blender. I do have a gadget that fits inside a glass and cuts up a banana when I want to make a smoothie. (Sorry, the name of the thing isn’t coming.) To make a long story short, I used my thingie and whipped the veggies into a smooth mess right there in the kettle. Then I added the 1/8 teaspoon of nutmeg and 1/8 teaspoon of white pepper the recipie called for. The last step was adding a fourth of a cup of cream. Not having cream, I added skim milk. (Fewer calories is always good.)

I liked the soup, but I’m not much on spicy food. I wish I’d left the nutmeg out. To counter the spice, I fried some bacon and crumbled it on top. Perfection!

My freezer now holds three one-cup servings of Squash and Carrot Soup. 1 cup = 12 carbs, 2 grams fiber, and 82 calories — or at least it would have if I’d followed the recipe exactly. Even so, I’ll use those counts and thank Eatingwell’s website and Diabetic Living Magazine where the recipe first appeared. As for the actual cooking — it wasn’t bad — and I got to watch Jeopardy while enjoying a lovely cup of tea.

Cooking for one? The BLT Adventure

The baskets at the Farmers’ Market displayed huge red, red, red tomatoes, so, of course, I thought about having a BLT.

There’s nothing quite like a Bacon Lettuce and Tomato sandwich oozing tomato-tinged mayonaise. The question was, should I go to a restaurant and buy one, or should I pick up the ingredients and make my own?

I debated ‘buy vs make’ as I picked up the peppers my daughter asked me to get for her (I was going over to her house so I’d asked if she wanted me to pick anything up for her — she asked for the aformentioned peppers.)

My first thought was stopping somewhere and getting a BLT, but my daughter’d invited me for lunch, so that wasn’t a good idea. Supper was a possibility. I wondered if any of the local restauants had them on their menu.

Ordering a BLT at a restaurant would bring immediate satisfaction — but it wouldn’t come with extra bacon to nibble on while I waited for the toast to pop. And restaurant BLTs don’t always have as much mayo as I like. (Yes, a lot of mayo makes the sandwich a drippy mess, but when I’m eating at home who cares, and I keep a really good supply of napkins.)

As I walked to my car with my tomato, the smallest eggplant I’ve ever seen, and my daughter’s peppers, I realized I already had some of the ingredients for a BLT — the tomato I just bought, mayo and a head of lettuce. If I could talk my daughter into swapping the peppers I bought for her for two slices of bread, I’d only need bacon. (Allergies mean I don’t have bread at my house. I also don’t have English Muffins which is a tear-filled situation, but I’m not going to talk about it.)

My daughter laughed when I suggested the swap, but she agreed and an hour or more later (after a lovely helping of her left-over lasagnia, a brief chat with her husband, and losing two games of Chinese Checkers) she added the peppers to her vegetable bin and put two slices of whole wheat bread in a bag for me to take home. (I didn’t quibble. I like my BLTs on white bread, but at this point I figured I was coming up aces.)

My next stop was the grocery store. It’s been a while since I bought bacon. (More dietary concerns I won’t go into.) The prices raised my eyebrows, but I took a deep breath and looked over what was available. Thick slices had a lot of appeal. I grabbed the package and headed for the self-checkout. (Someday I’ll comment on self-checkouts, but not today. Remembering this BLT adventure brings enough anguish.)

So, I was all set. I had the bacon, tomato, lettuce, mayo and bread. I’d have a BLT for supper. I looked forward to it until my stomach began to grumble. I was just about to take the ingredients out of the fridge and assemble the delight when my phone rang. It was my sister asking if I’d like to meet for supper at the local Mexican restaurant. Oh, how my thoughts divided! I hadn’t had a Mexican dinner with those lovely refried beans and that orange rice since — well, I really can’t remember. I lost all sense of purpose and said yes, I’d meet her.

So, I had Mexican. Not the seafood chimmichanga I really wanted, a different dish that fit my current eating restricitions but didn’t ring any bells in terms of satisfaction. (Next time it will be a seafood chimmichanga even if I have to suffer later. And a strawberry margarita, too!) I went home wishing I’d had a BLT for supper. But that would have meant eating alone. I do enough of that so I was glad I went. I love being in a place filled with people and happy noise and I’d had the bonus of chatting with my sister and my grandson (who I lured to the restaurant with the promise of a free meal.) The BLT was still in my future. I could still look forward to it.

Today, for lunch, I had my BLT. The toasted bread was crisp and crumbly. The lettuce was crunchy. The tomato perfectly ripe. The mayo slathered. The bacon fried until it shrunk to half its size and glistened with grease. It was fantastic.

Or, was it?

Maybe I’d waited too long to have it. It was good, but not world shaking.

I should have taken a pix of it and posted it here. But, as you might be guessing, I was too eager to eat to pause long enough to grab my phone and take a pix. I simply gobbled that BLT. Every last bit.

(Imagine a pix of a BLT here. Make it a tripple decker with potato chips on the side.)

Now, I’m asking myself, was making a BLT at home a good idea?

So, here’s my tally:

Financially: a BLT at a local restuarant might have cost $8 to $13 and possibly come with a side of something — fries, chips, coleslaw, maybe even a small salad or bowl of soup. I spent $8 for a package of bacon plus $3 for the peppers I traded to my daughter for bread, plus the tomato at $1.50, plus the mayo and a bit of lettuce brings the total for my homemade BLT to the $13 range. That’s a wash, with most of the package of bacon left over. (I don’t have a use for it. Bacon is on my list of “No No Foods.” So, it will sit in my freezer until I come up with a way to use small amounts of it at a time. Suggestions welcome.)

Satisfaction: ???? (Maybe my tastes have changed.)

The next time the craving for a BLT hits, I’ll go over to Jen’s and let the cook whip one up for me. (They have a fantastic cabbage slaw with apples in it. Now that’s something to look forward to. Maybe my sister will go with me.)

Cooking for one isn’t just about preparing food. It’s an economic adventure.

Cooking for One?

The left-over garlic potato adventure…

Is there really such a thing as cooking for one? I found websites that offer recipies, so technically cooking for one is a real thing. Those sites list ingredients, including spices other than salt and pepper, and give directions, but that’s too ambitious for me. I just want to pull together a meal so I can go back to doing something I enjoy.

You guessed it. I don’t like to cook and I don’t like to clean up. Eating out or getting take out are nice options, but then I have leftovers. The last take out meal I picked up was actually a family meal for four (I’d invited guests, but didn’t want pizza). We finished off the meat and veggies, (the tray is decieving — it actually held two meals,) leaving me stuck with a huge mound of garlic mashed potatoes. (Most of the potatoes were gone by the time I took this pix. It really was a monsterous mound — like two and a half servings worth.)

I may be lazy, I may be crazy, but I don’t waste.

And I happen to like garlic mashed potatoes.

So, one night I added an egg, onion and bits of green pepper and fried the mess. It was good. A complete meal in one pan.

Another day, I was hungry for potato salad so I smashed the potatoes with a generous glob of mayo (mayo is one of my favorite foods — and it doesn’t have any cholestoral) added onion (red onion is awfully good) and some celery. (I would have poached an egg and hacked it up as if it were hard-boiled and stired that in too, but I’d used my last egg in that potato and egg fry with the onion and green pepper so I didn’t have one to add.) With a bit of salt and pepper the mess was pretty much like potato salad. I liked it!

So, that’s how I view cooking for one — sort of a ‘throw stuff together’ approach. No measuring, one pot (usually), quick and easy. It has to be. If anything takes too long to cook, I wander off and forget I have something on the stove. (Yes, things burn quite regularily.)

The corn — well, what can you do with corn but add salsa, lots of black olives, cooked chicken (left over from a deli chicken) a bit of cooked rice (that took almost more cooking-patience than I have) and Presto — another meal.

Okay, none of these messes are gourmet, but I’m just me and I don’t really care.

Yup. It’s a good thing I only cook for one.

The ‘Ughs’ and ‘Ahs’ of Mother’s Day

For years I hated Mother’s Day.

Perhaps my expectations were too high. Oh, I’ll admit I wanted to be treated royally — breakfast in bed (something wonderfully good, maybe even gourmet), followed by presents (not a tiara, I wouldn’t have had a place to wear it anyway), but something nice that I’d be glad to have. After that, an afternoon adventure of some kind followed by a supper someone else cooked, maybe even a chef at a restaurant.

Yes, my expectations were sky-high. The realities were quite earth-bound. Sometimes, my sweet preschoolers presented me with lovely handmade wonders, thanks to a program they went to or some other mother’s foresight. My husband, reasoning that I wasn’t his mother, ignored the hoopla entirely and went fishing. So, for me, Mother’s Day was just another day that invovled extra duties: shopping for gifts for my mother and mother-in-law, wrapping them and delivering them by myself with the girls on the big day.

The situation was awful. My disappointment started long before the media spewed ads reminding folks to get out and shop. And then, I made a discovery: I was in charge! I didn’t have to sit home with my kids feeling sorry for myself. I ushered my girls into the car and picked up my mother-in-law (who was sitting home waiting for phone calls and visits, none of which were forewarned). We took off for the McD’s drive thru. Armed with lunch we settled at the picnic and playground area near the flower gardens in Milwaukee County’s Whitnall Park. We had lunch, the girls played, we looked at flowers, and, tired and a bit grubby, went back to McD’s for cones before we called it a day.

Mother’s Day became a delight! Easy lunch. Good company. Happy kids. Beautiful flowers. Ice cream cones.

The kicker came when we got home. My sisters- and brothers-in-laws weren’t happy with me, but after a year or two they caught on. Of course, the plan didn’t last very long. It fell apart when the girls hit the point where playgrounds weren’t the best thing in the whole world. But, for a while there, Mother’s Day was something special.

Ouch and oh my gosh!

I suppose everyone hits this point in their lives. Although, I’ll admit I’ve collided with it several times. It’s nothing terribly important, but it’s not trivial–or maybe it is because it deals with trivial things. Things like the coffee cups sitting here and there, newspapers open to unfinished Sudoku games, and shoes littered around my favorite chair. Yup. It’s time for me to become neat.

I don’t know if I can do it. I love my comfortable mess. I like having things where I can reach over and get them–like the books (yes many at the same time) I’m reading, or the Afghan bunched up on the couch, or the pencils I seem to have everywhere. Unfortunately, or really FORTUNATELY, now that I live in town I’m getting to know folks and they tend to drop in. I’m always embarrassed by my mess. What do they think while I stack up my daily planner, newspaper and the mail I haven’t the faintest idea of what to do with, to clear a space for the cup of tea I’m offering? What thoughts go through their minds when the dining room chair has a sweater hanging from it and a tumble of shoes is in view?

I hope they think it looks homey.

But I think it looks messy.

Neat! I want to be neat.

Wish me luck!

The Plastic Mystery — Solved

Can anyone explain the ebb and flow of plastic storage containers? One day I open the cabinet and bowls, boxes and lids fall out at me. A day later, I open the cabinet to get something to put a big can of peaches in and there’s nothing there. Where did all those plastic containers go?

These shelves are usually full!

They’re not in the fridge. That thing is as empty as a winter boot on a summer morning. The freezer? Nope. Just bags of stuff in there. (I wish I’d remember to label things.) The sink. Yes, they had to be waiting to be washed. Nope. Nothing there.

Did they evaporate? Not likely. The shelf life of plastic is eons. Did I use them to start new spider plants or sort my husband’s penny collection? Nope. I stopped starting new spider plants. Nobody wants them, and my husband’s penny collection should be turned in at the bank! (I keep seeing a sign there that says there’s a coin shortage.)

 If I had teenagers at home, I’d scout their rooms to see if they’d taken a snack with them when they retreated from parental view. But, I don’t have teens in the house anymore. Is there a chance I left empty snack containers somewhere – like in the living room where I finished off the noodle salad while watching a reruns of The Golden Girls last night?

Ah, I was the culprit. There, beside my favorite chair, a plastic bowl, minus the lid and a fork. That only leaves another twelve or twenty to locate.

The dishwasher. I don’t like to put plastic storage containers in there. They tend to flip if I don’t lean something against them to keep them down when the water hits them. Apparently, though, I did stick some in there. At least another two. The lids are there too.

That only leaves ten or so missing. Did I send food home with anyone lately? Ah, the cake. I sent cake home last week with several people. That’s what happened to them. Of course, I told folks not to worry about getting the containers back to me.

Looks like I’ll have to buy some more. They say plastic lasts eons, but not at my house.  It comes in and goes out like the tide.                

• Cooking for one: the Squash and Carrot Soup Adventure
• Cooking for one? The BLT Adventure
• Cooking for One?
• The ‘Ughs’ and ‘Ahs’ of Mother’s Day
• Ouch and oh my gosh!

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Vacation Thoughts

The picture above was taken on vacation a few years back. I don’t know the kids playing there on the sand spit. We were on a bus trip, escaping everyday life to see a bit of Lake Superior. The lake is there, beyond the trees and sand. You can see the waves if you look hard enough. Wherever this was, it was a beautiful spot.

I took lots of pictures. No matter where I looked there was something to point my camera at. There was contrast (Note the muddy water vs the clear and the flat water vs the wavy) and color ( muddy vs clear again, the greens, browns and blues) and the varied shapes. Deciding what to include in the picture was the biggest challenge. Should several trees be included on the right, or only one? Should the kids on the beach be left out of the picture or included for scale? How much of those lovely water-color-like clouds should be in the picture to enhance the sense of depth.

I’m not a professional photographer, but I love scenery pictures so I followed the old adage that says to include something close and something far for perspective and some object or person to indicate scale. Using that guideline gives me pictures I enjoy, so I follow it. The other thirty-some people on the tour were taking pictures, too, aiming their cameras at the same vistas I was. Yet, I have a feeling our pictures wouldn’t all look the same. Little things like the percentage of sky vs water, the number of trees, the center the way the picture is centered  — all those variables make our pictures individual.

Variables also make the a trip different for all those who take it. Only, the differences are related to our reasons for going (are we there to see a new place or just to get away from home?), how interested are we in where we are (are we aware of externals or involved with internals?), and what we want to take away with us (was the trip a break or the start of something new?)  The way we experience and remember things is as individual as we are.

The same thing is true about writing. There are guidelines like ‘make the main character appealing and active’ that are pretty standard. They help, just like ‘close and far’ provides perspective in photos. But, when it comes right down to it, everyone writes their own story in their own way. Because everyone is different, shaped by birth, circumstance, and choice.

Moment to Moment

I’m in a somber mood this morning. Several conversations over the past few days have me thinking about life and time. Days come and go. Babies become toddlers; they turn into grade school kids, then teens, young adults and twenty-somethings — all in what seems like an impossibly short span. And yet, on a day-to-day, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute basis, time doesn’t fly. How can that be?

Here’s what I’m thinking:

We live our lives one moment at a time. The past is gone. The future lies ahead. We have a moment — a mere sixty seconds to live.

Calling that brief span a minute might be more accurate, but the term minute refers to physical time and, yes, we do live each minute, but moment carries a deeper meaning. A moment suggests emotional involvement and that’s what life is about, even when we don’t want it to be.

Think about standing in line at the grocery store. We’re probably there for several minutes and while we wait for our turn to check out, we’re busy with a number of things. Our thoughts hum from one topic to another — Do I have everything I came for? Will this line ever move? Why is she buying so many frozen dinners? Should I pick up a magazine to read this evening? What’s the weather like outside? What time is it? Can I get to the post office before I have to head home? And, along with the situation we’re caught up in, we’re busy with our physical being too, even if we aren’t actively aware of it. We shift from foot to foot, straighten up or lean on the cart, turn our head to look here and there. We’re seldom still, mentally, physically, or emotionally.

Emotionally? Yes. We might be in a hurry, concerned about being late for something. Or, we might not have to rush and can let our minds meander to what’s going on around us. None of that seems emotional, but it is There’s the slight — or great — panic of not meeting a deadline. The kids will be out of school and waiting by the time I get checked out! I need to get home and start supper if we’re going to be on time for tonight’s meeting. And, we become curious as we notice people and things near us. Why is the fellow in the next line buying so much junk food? Is there a game next Sunday? Oh, why did that star make the tabloids? Is that checker opening another lane? Should I move over there? Are there candy bars there? Wouldn’t that be a disaster? Anxiety and curiosity aren’t strong emotions, but they are emotions — so we’re spending moments in the grocery line, not minutes.

If we look at life as moments strung together to make an hour, a day, a month, a year, a life — we see a span based on the tiny units we actually live. Viewing life that way gives special meaning to each moment — an importance we take for granted until suddenly a whole lot of them are gone and we look back and wonder where did the time go?

Moments pass quickly, propelling us into our future. Whether we’re aware of each moment or not, we live in a constant state of NOW. That’s a sobering reality.

Each moment is important, and none of them ever come again.

25 Things I Like About Winter

Spring officially starts on March 20th.

That’s what the calendar says, but Mother Nature, a wily woman, doesn’t always do what she’s supposed to do. One of the worst ice storms I lived through happened in April, and I remember watching snow drifting from clouds in June. With that in mind, I need to prepare myself for the worst — so I’m doing this list to fortify my courage.

1. Watching big, fluffy snowflakes dance from the sky is a lovely sight.
2. Cold, crisp air is invigorating. (Does shivering burn calories?)
3. Fresh snow and frozen lakes create beautiful scenery. (Especially when viewed from a warm car.)
4. Dressing to stay warm outside creates a fashionable layered look. (Putting on enough layers to stay warm makes it hard to move around and I look like a fat sausage.)
5. Winter coats and jackets come in great colors and designs. (Unfortunately, mine is old and dull.)
6. Wearing a hat hides the fact that I need a haircut. (I’d get one, but that means leaving my warm house.)
7. Skiing, sledding, ice skating, building snowmen and having snowball fights are great ways to exercise and enjoy being outdoors. (It’s a pity I don’t like any of those activities.)
8. Restaurants and coffee shops are more inviting when the temperature drops. (Except you have to leave your warm car to get to them.)
9. Coffee and hot chocolate taste better when it’s cold outside. (Not really. They’re always good.)
10. Snow, slush, ice and an impending storm are great topics of conversation in the grocery line as everyone buys up all the bread, milk and beer in the store. (Everybody has a different idea of when the storm will hit, how bad it will be, and if the power will go out.)
11. When the power does go out, I learn what it’s like to live by candlelight. (At least the candle flame provides warmth — the furnace isn’t working either.)
12. Shoveling snow is an opportunity to meet new neighbors. (It’s fun to share horror stories of past storms and predictions of how sore we’re going to be and how much we hate snow, although there are those who think shoveling is great exercise and a good reason to be outdoors. I avoid them.)
13. Watching TV while curled up in my favorite chair is a cozy way to spend a winter evening. (What else can you do after you cover yourself with all the crocheted throws in the house?)
14. Winter is a good time to check my supply of blankets and quilts. (Crocheted throws aren’t very warm.)
15. Evenings at home are a great opportunity to read books I always meant to get to. (But those books are often dull. A wild adventure or steamy romance is more fun. Unfortunately, the blankets rearrange when I turn a page and my arm gets cold.)
16. Going through travel brochures featuring warm, sunny locations is wonderful, daydreamy entertainment. (But, reading travel brochures leads to checking my bank balance, which is followed by depression.)
17. Winter provides plenty of at-home time to research family history. (Why did my ancestors settle here? Why didn’t they head for someplace closer to the Equator — like Florida, or a nice tropical island like Hawaii?)
18. (At last — here’s a good one!) Perfecting my baking skills warms the house on cold days! (It also adds pounds to me.)
19. Shopping in a big box store for new clothes means spending time in a warm building. (Buying clothes in a bigger size uses up the pittance I managed to save for next winter’s tropical escape.)
20. ?????????????????????? (I can’t think of anything! I might not be able to finish this list! I made a commitment to 25 things, and I can’t do it. I’m a failure.)
21. (Still nothing. Why didn’t I say ’15’ instead of ’25’. Will I ever learn to think ahead?)
22. (Not a thing here either. I might not be able to finish this list. ‘5 Reasons’ would have been easy.)
23. (My mind is blank.) (Why did I start this in the first place — oh, I was going to encourage myself. Well, it isn’t working. Two more to go. There must be something I can add.)
24. (Humm — mentioning the calendar’s pictures of lovely winter scenes is cheating.)
25. (Not a single thought.) (Boy, making this list was a dumb idea.) (Really, really dumb.)

Someone must like winter. What kind of person would that be? Oh — I know, someone in a bright red Down or Thinsulate jacket and Spandex pants swishing gracefully down a snow ski hill with a huge smile below dark sunglasses wearing a cute stocking cap knit in a Nordic design.

Someone not at all like me.

Let’s face it: For me, the best thing about winter is that, eventually, it’s over.

The Season’s Changing

Autumn officially began about a week ago. Over the last few days, lines of pumpkins appeared in front of grocery stores and gas stations. Changing leaves started turning the skyline into a mosaic of green, red, yellow and russet. Witches and ghosts haunt lawns — even in the newest parts of town. And shoppers buy their favorite candy, pretending there’ll be enough left for the Trick or Treaters at the end of the month.

Today, on the eve of October, it’s time to recognize the other changes that take place. This is when we swap shorts for slacks, tee shirts for sweatshirts, sandals for shoes, iced tea for hot coffee, sunshine for lamplight, and finally, mayonnaise salads for creamed-soup hot dishes.

The change is gradual, but being creatures who crave change, we embrace these steps toward winter. So, here’s my autumn wish for you: may your coffee be strong enough, your hot dish creamy enough, your sweater warm enough, and your home big enough to hold friends.

Happy October!