27 Nov


Cooking. it’s fuel for my soul.  This thanksgiving is just what I needed. A quite house,  a plan, music, step by step, success. I had so much joy.

Living here has made me a better cook. A REAL cook. taking on the challenges to make something better . it can be done. and with great joy. I still have a long way to go. I’m sure I didn’t always feel this way, the learning curve and all, but somehow i’ve forgotten those early days and all I can recall is joy. and that list of the “must haves” from the US keeps getting smaller and smaller.

In our house cornbread is made from corn meal and flour, and chicken broth doesn’t come from a can. Instead,  it comes from carefully simmering a chicken until (like Julia Child’s says) “your taste convinces you that you have simmered the most out of your ingredients” (which for me was about 5 hours), pumpkin pies are the reward of roasting a whole pumpkin and German chocolate cakes WITHOUT Bakers German Chocolate-can it be true?


Sometimes I panic. Like when I can’t find celery, ( dressing without celery?), or sweet potatoes. and even when I do find them they aren’t sure to have any taste. I remember the year I had to throw out all 7 pounds, after I cooked them and found the pulp was yellow (and tasteless) not sure where those came from.


I shared the kitchen a bit with my girls. Emili tried a new recipe (she finds her own these days) and Gwyneth wanted her favorite: sweet potato casserole. It was fun. I washed and washed so many dishes. it didn’t matter. It was fun.



Gwyneth kept the time and had us all packed and out the door by 4:00 pm. Anxious to arrive at the beloved “Malenovice Hotel”.  It sounds elaborate, but for these kids, it’s all they know,  it’s home. it’s family.  All the aunts and uncles and cousins. We hardly saw our kids that holiday weekend. Occasionally at meals we would spy them in the pack of kids running about. They never complained or fought or cried. Only laughing. And running. It gave me great joy. a perfect place to be found thankful.





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