A Slow Day

 

In our grocery stores, this particular tea is available only during December. I discovered it last year and like it so much that I've stocked several boxes to last me through the year. With hints of chocolate, lavender, and mint, it's a winner. 

This afternoon I'm drinking copious amount of tea as I have come down with a cold. I had my booster shot on Saturday, felt achy and awful on Sunday, and this morning woke up with a runny nose. Sigh. It's been a slow weekend, never mind a slow day. I feel fine, but am keeping the tissue box handy. 

This old, cookbook, first published in 1962, followed by at least six editions, is identical to the one my mother has. She probably got hers in the 60s and I got mine in the late 70s.

How many recipes do you use from a single cookbook? From this one, I use about 20, but I so enjoy reading through the book that I won't be discarding it any time soon. There are many recipes from my Mennonite heritage that I remember from my grandmothers' kitchens. There's a section on butchering and preserving, and then a few incongruities like pot-au-feu, Yorkshire pudding (with an explanation of what to eat them with), and a number of dishes inspired by Asian cooking. Those ladies (and they were all ladies who cooked back then) were not afraid to try new dishes. 

Apples from our trees remain in a drawer in the fridge, and they are beginning to soften. Dough leftover from pies made in the autumn lounged in the freezer, so I combined the apples and the dough in a single-crust pie, a recipe from the above cookbook. It turned out well, although I baked it much longer than recommended in order to cook the filling properly. The recipe, with a few adaptations, can be found here. 

After putting away the Christmas decorations, I set out my ceramic houses representing the old colonial city of Quito, Ecuador. The set was a Christmas present from Tim while we lived in Quito. Looking around my house I see many objects with stories and memories. There's a seascape watercolour picked up on one of our boating trips, framed photos from European travels, the double pedestal dining room table that Tim built 35 years ago, a cabinet that once belonged to my parents, and many more things. 

I like a house layered with objects curated over time and would not want to replace everything with new things that matched perfectly. Our homes should reflect our life stories, in my opinion.

The forced hyacinth bulbs are blooming and perfume the air with sweetness. How I love their colour and shape, all those curly flowers bunched together. It's lovely to have them indoors now, and I look forward to the outdoor bulbs soon sprouting. I took a wander around my garden this afternoon, and there are a few green crocus shoots poking up through the snow, and little else. It's been cold. 

How's winter progressing in your corner?