Buffalo gals

chili n cornbread

My Dad is picky about his labels. He claims Radical and sometimes Progressive, rejects New Age or Hippie. But whatever you want to call it, at his teeny-tiny, light-and-love-filled, first post-divorce house, Dan and I watched MacNeil/Lehrer and the occasional episode of Sesame Street, but otherwise TV was off limits. At times we felt deprived, but really our television was so old that watching it was more an exercise in annoyance than entertainment.  And what my dad denied us in cartoons and sitcoms, he made up for in other (I would now argue, far better) ways. Continue reading


The last word

boys cookingI have two sick kids today, just in time for all that good cheer. Still, we are baking – cookies, cakes, candies and biscuits! – and tomorrow morning we’ll have fresh homemade morning buns, per Jacob’s request. I’ve been playing with that recipe and plan to share soon – but in the meantime, here is one you might want to try instead. Continue reading


oatmeal breadWe have come to the longest night. I’ve been hesitant about posting this bread recipe, or anything really. I have experienced deep grief in my life, and abiding loss, but I cannot imagine – oh, I cannot imagine. I don’t want to imagine. We stand up in solidarity, we bear witness, we offer whatever we can, an effort to shoulder some small piece of a heartache that surely must be as vast as the universe.

And we have faith.

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whole wheat cranberry breadWhen I met my sister-in-law Kate (when we were very young and very single, and went on a bizarre wine-country adventure with the lovely Molly and two of the world’s strangest men) – when I met her, I had an instant suspicion that my brother Dan, given half a chance, would fall in love with her. I was immediately smitten with her myself, in that way that happens every so often with people – I knew instantly that we were going to be friends.

And I also thought she might marry my brother.

Of course, at the beginning, it was only me who saw it. Dan and Kate were busy, dating other people, living in other parts of the world. But then, finally, early in December of 2005, I had my chance. Newly single, newly email-friendly with each other, suddenly sharing egg-nog lattes and beer recommendations — it was clear that the moment was right. Kyle and I plotted a dinner at our place, casually suggesting to each of them that they would be welcome to spend the night. We didn’t mention that we had only one air mattress to go around- we figured they could work that part out themselves after a night of good food, good wine, and much merry making.

After dinner, we opened a bottle that Kyle and I had been saving for something special. We poured four glasses, divided into two teams for a board game, and crowded around the big ottoman in our living room. Love was in the air.

But something else was in the air too. Kate wrinkled her nose. “It smells like – it smells like burning brakes.” We all sniffed the air and nodded. It did indeed, exactly. And just as we opened our mouths to agree, we heard the first explosion.  Continue reading

A day in the life

whole wheat rollsThere are four gigantic bananas on our counter right now, we know not from whence they came. I was at yesterday’s farmer’s market, but of course there are no bananas for sale there. Kyle has been to three grocery stores in the last 24 hours, but is certain he did not pick up any bananas. The only clue is a sticker, the florescent likes of which we have never seen before. It alleges that the bananas hail from Mexico and are ORGANIC!!!

But the trio of exclamation points makes me suspicious.

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All for love

cream butter biscuitThere was a time in my life – that is, the better part of junior high – when I thought that Color Me Badd’s All 4 Love was in the running for Best Love Song Ever. I have no shame when I tell you that I can still dance in sync as they running-man and spin through what appears to be the empty front hallway of a cookie-cutter condominium. I eventually moved on to thinking that Best Love Song Ever should go to All For Love. And – no shame! – Sting’s voice lifting over Bryan Adams and yes, ok, Rod Stewart’s too – it still gives me goosebumps.

And in the right moment, I will still defend the poetic principles of those ballads. Continue reading