In which the author commits an act of charcuterie

From 2012 Charcuterie

One form of distractive entertainment to get one through the grey days of winter is to perform a little charcuterie.  I have managed to convince a friend that we need to have a cassoulet party in February, for which I'll contribute the confit d'oie and sausages.  Really, this is selfishness on my part; I just need an excuse to mess about with sharp knives and interesting ingredients.

The confit was started this evening, after a fortifying glass of wine.  By 7:30 the cut up and salted goose had been tucked in the fridge and the kitchen all cleaned up.

I'll add to the album as the work continues, so check back periodically.

Somebody thinks a lot about you

World War I.

I like old postcards but I don't like spending too much time going through those endless boxes of them that one runs across at (often poorly lit) antique shows, so my collection is small and idiosyncratic.  This one is a recent eBay acquisition.

I know the sender is supposed to write in the state or city or town,  but I don't know why.  Anybody you knew would presumably know where you lived, so possibly these were similar to our "Any soldier" letters.

Gorey Time

Photo by Celine Chamberlin

Late in November the oak trees in this neck of the woods finally drop their leaves, some of the latest trees to do so.  I don't know why they're so hesitant.  Mature oaks are imposing at any time of year, but it's not until winter that one can appreciate their full, complex crowns.

At about the same time, the weather gently dissolves into overcasts, mists, fogs, and rain - sometimes all on the same afternoon.  It'll be like this until - well, if I'm honest, until April.  We are now deep into that four or five months of the year that I think of as "Gorey Time."

Every year I find that it still makes me a little sad that Mr. Gorey is no longer with us.  There will be no more new book covers, or stage sets, or note cards, or books, or beautifully lettered alphabets.

Must dash - there seems to be somebody at the door:

http://www.goreystore.com/

Happy New Year!

I keep a journal, so on the first day of January when I open the brand new book I'm quite inclined to review the entry for New Year's Day for the year just ended.  I often find an entry along the lines of "Knit for a while."  Before you get too wrapped up in metaphors and symbolism, let me just point out that I do most of my knitting during the rainy months.  Also, knitting something like this mitten I'm currently working on is a pretty mindless activity, well suited for a morning of having gotten up too early after having stayed up too late the night before (which was due entirely to my next door neighbor's love of, and apparently very large budget for, extremely loud fireworks.)

I wish you all the best for the coming year.

Eggnog Improver

Owing to a housekeeping lapse, this jar has spent the last year, unlabeled, on the back of the potting bench in the garage.  Fortunately, as I'm the only gardener on the premises there was no danger of it being used accidentally to perk up a tray of seedlings.  Yesterday being devoted to a variety of housekeeping tasks, not only did I finally put a label on the jar, I made my annual batch of eggnog.

I mixed up the Eggnog Improver last year, and of course, didn't write down the ingredients.  My guess is that the alcohol is my usual eggnog mix of rum, bourbon, and cognac.  For spices, I can see cinnamon sticks, star anise, and whole cardamom pods.  There might be a vanilla bean in there, but it's really too dark to tell for certain.  Nutmeg is always grated fresh when the eggnog is served.

The first eggnog pouring here at the Blue  Door is always on the solstice, and this year I've remembered to buy a Christmas tree, so Wednesday evening will be a nice, small celebration to encourage the light to come back.

The Wright Brothers Anniversary, then and then

From the Tyrone (PA) Daily Herald for December 17, 1929.

Entirely fictional, I assure you