I can see the water from my seat at the dining room table. The windows on the eastern and southern sides of our house face the bay, which separates our little town from the white, windswept beaches of Shelter Island. Our street ends at a small cul-de-sac, which I love for two reasons. One, the street has no through traffic, but rather people walking their dogs or coming down to sit on the bench and hold hands or sip coffee at the water's edge. Two, there's a small dock that juts into the water, where I like to go and read my book in the summertime. It's peaceful and quiet in every season: the water lapping against the weathered wood of the pilings, boats entering and leaving the marina next door, and birds wheeling overhead.
Read moreNON-FAT GINGERSNAPS
It's been a week, let me say. Highs and lows. The frenetic, happy pace of the holidays gave way to the calm, quiet rhythm of my daily routine back in the city. Being home with my sisters for Christmas is like stock-piling happiness, leaving me with a residual warmth to carry back to New York. But no matter how lovely my time away is, there's such a comfort in returning to a simple, expected structure. (Hi, can you tell I'm an introvert?)
Read moreThe Best Cookie Dough to Freeze
My lemon tree hasn't shown any signs of bearing fruit yet. I could worry, but I think instead I'll have faith that somewhere beneath those glossy green leaves, it's biding its time. There will be citrus: bright and cheerful. There will be Meyer lemon cake, and ribbons of tart lemon curd folded into whipped cream and frozen until cold and creamy. There will be lemon vodka cocktails. I'm letting myself be patient. I'm learning to sit with the in-between times, to let go of all or nothing all the time.
Read moreCHOCOLATE TRUFFLE COOKIES
I'll keep this brief, because it's cold outside. The window of the living room is ajar and the gusts of air are icy. My wool blanket is helping. (So is the glass of prosecco.) But my bed upstairs is no doubt warmer, and I'll cozily tuck the edges of the comforter around my sock-clad feet.
Read moreTOASTED CASHEW + MARZIPAN BLONDIES
A crowd of people stand waiting at the corner of West Houston Street for the light to turn green. I've just emerged from the subway. It's only 6:30 but the evening sky is already quickly turning inky and black. I walked a block in the cold air to the Citibike station and inserted my key, waiting for the welcome ping! as the light turns green and the bike unlocks, releasing the front tire. I hop on and cycle slowly to the edge of the street, pausing with the throngs of commuters.
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