Snow, snow, and more snow. This is easily the longest, coldest, snowiest winter I remember in my adult life. It's the kind of winter kids dream about: each day a fresh dusting of snow, a beautiful, magical winterwonderland, a world that mirrors winter storybooks and old Christmas movies.
I'm trying very hard to continue to see it that way. I live in the mountains of western North Carolina, and while we're no stranger to snow (we even have a few ski resorts nearby), this is still the south, and we're just not prepared for this kind of snow and cold. In our former mild winters, I would dream of a good old fashioned New England style winter.
Well, we sort of got one of those this year, and ever fickle, I'm longing for spring more than ever. In the grown up world, snow brings not only magic and beauty, but also oodles more responsibilities and difficulties. There's wood to be brought in, fires to be stoked, water pipes to worry about, treacherous roads to travel (if one has to go out to work, which Mark does, every day, although I will say that snow has been most polite, seeming to be most intense on the weekends), not to mention the crazy school schedule that has everyone from teachers to parents going insane and depressed as they kiss spring break and summer vacation goodbye.
But, despite all that, I can't help but feel that first initial wave of giddy enthusiasm when you wake up and find the ground (still!) blanketed in white. Spring will come, and before long we'll trade in these cumbersome snow jackets and mittens for sundresses and sandals. Until then, another cup of cocoa and a warm, crackling fire, and all is well.
We're digging out of a full week of the plague around these parts. I started the whole wretched affair, of which I'll spare you all the gory details. I firmly place blame on the communal yoga mat I used at the Y the other day, against my better judgment!!! Oh dear. I get sick so rarely, and it's a good thing too, because I'm not very big and brave about it. I don't try to keep going or muddle through or anything so noble as that. Before Kate was born, if sickness struck I would cowardly slink to the bedroom, burrow under a mound of quilts and blankets and hibernate for as long as it took to return to normalcy. As it turns out, Mamas are not allowed to be sick, because hibernation ceases to be an option with a little one to care for. And, in the course of caring for said little one, you end up infecting her as well. So, the nasty little germ made the rounds, laying us all up for the better part of last week.
Whining aside, we're much better now, and since saltine crackers and chicken noodle soup have been the cuisine of choice lately, yesterday Kate and I celebrated a return to wellness by making a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Ever so humble, there's nothing in this world quite like a chocolate chip cookie, fresh from the oven. I tried a new recipe (you can find it here), and was very pleased. As a connoisseur of chocolate chip cookies, I'm a bit particular. I was initially skeptical about using cold butter and the fact that the cookies are baked at 300 degrees for 18 minutes (most recipes I use are more of the 350 for 10-12 minutes variety). My skepticism veered into cynicism as my mixer strained and whined during the creaming of the butter and sugar (to be fair, my mixer is an inexpensive handheld one, veering into middle age), but when they (finally!) came out of the oven, I was pleasantly surprised. This cookie is deliciously chewy, yet remarkably light. The walnuts added in are perfection, and really, you must toast them first. It makes all the difference in the world. And probably the best thing about this cookie is the high chocolate chip ratio! A winner for sure.
Driving home from the grocery store today, mindlessly listening to WNCW, I was snapped to attention by the chilling, powerful lyrics of this song. It seems especially appropriate today.
My current obsession: Blue Mother Tupelo. First of all, I really dig their name. If that's not enough, they sound pretty awesome too. Husband and wife duo, Ricky and Mikol Davis, exude southern soul, combining elements of blues and country music, creating a new sound that is raw, honest, passionate, and inspired. Equally at home on a performing arts stage or a juke joint, these guys are simply amazing. Listening to Blue Mother Tupelo on this cold, blustery day has me dreaming of summer music festivals, sundresses,and sandals. Spring, please come soon!
A few days ago, I watched this Leonard Cohen tribute concert via Netflix instant play, and it was amazing. I'm in complete awe of Leonard Cohen, and I've been on the lookout for a song to cover on my upcoming album. "Hallelujah" has long been one of my favorites, but it's been done by so many artists that I don't think I would have anything new or original to bring to it. This song is most often associated with Rufus Wainwright, and although I love his version (and this one by Bon Jovi), I think this acoustic performance by Sheryl Crow is my alltime favorite.
So anyway, I heard a few new (to me) songs on the tribute concert, and the one that captivated me most was "If It Be Your Will." The words are deceptively simple, and the song is almost a prayer. The performance by Antony on the film was powerful, but when I searched on youtube, I came across the song being performed by Leonard Cohen with the Webb Sisters. Oh my goodness. I could rack my brain for words to describe how incredible this is, but I think I'm going to take the easy (and more effective) way out, by urging you to drop what you're doing this very second and watch this.
I had never heard of the Webb Sisters before, but now I'm completely obsessed. The British sisters, Charley and Hattie, have the most captivating harmony, tight in a way that only family harmonies can be, and both are multi-instrumentalists, although it seems that performance wise, one sister usually plays guitar and the other accompanies with a small harp. I've always thought the harp to be one of the most beautiful instruments, both it's physical self as well as the sound. It lends an air of other worldliness to a song, in a fragile, delicate, ethereal way. I spent the past half hour perusing their website and listening to their latest EP, Comes in Twos, which is definitely going on my Christmas list, and if Santa doesn't come through, I'm buying it myself. :)
Lately, I’ve been reading cookbooks like they were trashy romance novels. I mean, who cares about burning loins when you could whip up an apple stuffed pork loin roast , and Danielle Steele can just keep those heaving bosoms, thank you very much, I’m lusting after sparkling ginger chip cookies. One of my favorite cookbooks of late is Apples for Jam, by Tessa Kiros. Seriously, who could resist this cover? Just look at those red shoes! Red shoes are one of my obsessions, so any thoughts of not judging books by their covers just flew right out the window when I saw this. And thankfully I wasn’t disappointed. Apples to Jam is one of the most gorgeous cookbooks you’ll find. When I was finished flipping through the book, there were about 50 post-its sticking out where I’d marked recipes I wanted to try. Like meringue with strawberries and chocolate or vanilla cake or honey cake! Can you tell my sweet tooth rules the roost around here?
As yummy and delectable as all this sounds, the main thing that sets this book apart from similar cookbooks is the photography. Using whimsical props, gorgeous color (I forgot to mention that the entire organizational premise of the recipes is based on color, how cool is that?), and super close-ups and interesting angles, Tessa Kiros not only has me itching to tie on my apron and get in the kitchen, but also encourages me to get better acquainted with my camera.
Food styling and still-life photography is not something I ever gave a lot of thought to before I started frequenting cooking blogs. After seeing such pretty pictures as this, or this, or this, I thought, well, that looks like fun, I'll give it a whirl. Well, turns out, taking a good picture of food is definitely not as easy as it looks. I quickly discovered that there is a true art form to it, as well as a lot of technical know how (about lighting, shutter speeds, etc.) that I didn’t have a clue about. Not to mention the infinite possibilities in Photoshop, about which I only know the tip of the iceberg. Well, I still don’t have a clue, but it’s something I’d like to explore. I know there are oodles of online tutorials, or maybe I might even take a spring semester class at our local community college. And, ever the bookworm, here are a few books on the subject I’m thinking about ordering:
A few of my favorite cooking blogs, where gorgeous food photography (and brilliant writing!) abounds!
Hey there! My name is Aimee, and I live in a little cabin in the big woods of western North Carolina with my husband Mark and our two year old daughter, Katie Mae. We like to make music and kick it Laura Ingalls Wilder style. You can visit our music website here. Thanks so much for stopping by!
Snow, snow, and more snow. This is easily the longest, coldest, snowiest winter I remember in my adult life. It's the kind of winter kids dream about: each day a fresh dusting of snow, a beautiful, magical winterwonderland, a world that mirrors winter storybooks and old Christmas movies.
I'm trying very hard to continue to see it that way. I live in the mountains of western North Carolina, and while we're no stranger to snow (we even have a few ski resorts nearby), this is still the south, and we're just not prepared for this kind of snow and cold. In our former mild winters, I would dream of a good old fashioned New England style winter.
Well, we sort of got one of those this year, and ever fickle, I'm longing for spring more than ever. In the grown up world, snow brings not only magic and beauty, but also oodles more responsibilities and difficulties. There's wood to be brought in, fires to be stoked, water pipes to worry about, treacherous roads to travel (if one has to go out to work, which Mark does, every day, although I will say that snow has been most polite, seeming to be most intense on the weekends), not to mention the crazy school schedule that has everyone from teachers to parents going insane and depressed as they kiss spring break and summer vacation goodbye.
But, despite all that, I can't help but feel that first initial wave of giddy enthusiasm when you wake up and find the ground (still!) blanketed in white. Spring will come, and before long we'll trade in these cumbersome snow jackets and mittens for sundresses and sandals. Until then, another cup of cocoa and a warm, crackling fire, and all is well. 
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