Busy, busy, bluster. Visiting father-in-law and uncle-in-law, an all girls Christmas party hosted by a neighbor and artiste. Spicy carrot ginger soup, mac and cheese, meatballs studded with dried currants and pine nuts and almonds. Have you ever played Dirty Santa? Have you ever seen a live outdoor Nativity acted out by little kids dressed up in bathrobes (they’re the Wise Men…no, wait, they’re the shepherds), narrated in English and Spanish?* The winds. The holidays. Oh, Lordy.

We have cheer. We have cozy. Thank God we also have heat. Oh yes, it’s back, and it feels so good. Hot damn, it’s efficient.

And now that the weather has dipped below 80 degrees and the wind and the chill have come back, things finally feel like Christmas. We got the tree up (a white pine - one string of lights was dangling from its branches for about a week until Kelly took over), the boughs and the branches scattered over the mantel and swooped along the front porch. We bought mistletoe from a scarred-face burly cop selling evergreens on the side of the road. He harvests his crop each year by shooting the stuff out of trees. Yee-haw!

I’ve been making toffee, OK, a lot of toffee, and giving it away, but otherwise I’ve kept Christmas under control this year.

I’m trying to slow down. Kelly and I actually spent part of this evening watching My So-Called Life. The flannel shirts, people, I can’t tell you! I’m not sure that anyone is ever going to consider them fashionable again, or worth re-incarnating. But they’re oddly comforting to see, along with scarlet-headed Angela Chase and fuzzy-headed nerd Brian Krakow. So, you can see I’ve managed to avoid obsessing over the glossy pages of tangerine Bavarian and passion fruit gelees and beef tenderloin with tomato confit. Sure, they look pretty, those tinsel-trimmed centerfolds, but when the going gets rough, or at least busy, sometimes it’s best to turn back to the simplest recipes, the ones printed on faded magazine pages sticky with time and sugar, dried egg white and lemon juice.

This recipe is one of those. I knew I had to make something with the Meyer lemons I picked up this weekend. They were drop dead gorgeous, golden ovals that glow in a way that no ordinary lemon can. I love how citrus season springs on me like a surprise each year. Hurray for this season of indie rock sweet Christmas songs, this season of evergreen-scented houses and…citrus. I was torn between the Meyer lemons and the blood oranges. Really, really torn.

For one thing, the pastry I use for this tart is one of the easiest I know. You push it into the tart pan - there’s no rolling out, no flour spilling down the counters and speckling the back of a dog vigilantly watching the floor for crumbs. For another, it’s g-o-o-d, buttery and crackly. For another, lemon curd - luxurious, tart, golden and sunshiny - is about the most delicious thing in the world. It’s extravagant, completely easy and completely festive, and a very good way to treat some special citrus.

Simplest Lemon Curd Tart
Adapted from Everyday Food, January 2005

In a small saucepan off heat, whisk together eggs, egg yolks, sugar, new online slotskeno online spielepoker rouletteroulette programmcasino online deinternet casino onlinelive roulettenew casino onlinewww casino gamesinternet gewinn spielespielregeln spieleautomatenkasino onlinecasino online und poker portalslot maschinegluck spiele onlinelotto am samstagwww casino spielekasino websitepc slotsonline casino forumcasino club comkasinospiele mit echtem geldslot maschinen online spielenonline kasinopokercasino games downloadenonline baccarat spielenroulette online gamecasino tropez bonuscasino online spielroulette online gratistop online kasinosonline texas holdem pokerparty poker codesregeln zu pokerbester online pokerpoker zum gratis downloadenparty poker sign up bonuspoker spielen ohne anmeldenpoker game softwarebonus bei pokeronline poker um geldpoker regeln blattonline poker javahigh stakes pokerparty poker no deposit bonuspoker com bonusgratis poker gamespoker regeln straightpoker bonus codesonline omaha poker spielen lemon juice, and salt until smooth. Add butter.

Place pan over medium heat. Cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon or spatula until lemon curd is thickened to the consistency of a loose pudding, about eight to 10 minutes. The curd is done when it is thick enough to coat the back of the spoon.

Pour curd through a fine mesh sieve into a cooled crust. Cool to room temperature. Refrigerate tart until the filling is firm, about two to three hours. Unmold from tart pan ring before serving.

*Yet to happen this year, but the manger is going up at the church down the street. I look forward to it every year, ever since Mary K. and I walked down there with mugs of mulled wine and a little girl who kept pointing at the angels standing on pine bough-covered scaffolding and saying, “That’s Jesus.”

I know, I know, I’ve been on hiatus. A busy, busy bee. And not cooking as much as I’d like. But I think things are on the upswing.

This weekend, for starters, was a Very Good Food Weekend. The supper club met again on Saturday, in honor of some New York City guests. We stuffed them with Southern things - fried chicken, fried pickles, sweet potato casserole with cornflakes and marshmallows (considerately arranged in diagonal stripes, so you could avoid the marshmallow if that’s just not your thing), collards for vegetarians and collards very much not for vegetarians, refrigerator pickles, mac and cheese. A certain New Yorker showed us up a bit. He made 72 - 72! that’s three dozen eggs! - deviled eggs. Then, he made the best banana pudding I’ve ever had. Ever. It was revelatory. I didn’t know banana pudding could be this way. It was run quickly under the broiler, I think, capped with an airy meringue blanket, tanned and crunchy.

All of this was washed down by copious amounts of red wine, and apparently a lot more than I knew. Kelly warned me, but I didn’t hear, or I pretended not to hear - I was sticking to red wine only and I thought I was fine. I thought I only get in trouble when I mix and match. No sir, not any more. I paid for it dearly the next morning. Oh, yes. Those Easter bells from the church around the block sounded as if they were clanging inside my head. But though eating was the last thing I felt like doing, I dragged myself out of bed and into the car. “Put on your sunglasses,” Kelly said. “You can sleep an hour until we get to your mom’s house.” Sixty minutes later, when the dogs started whining, I knew we were close (the dogs get very spoiled at their grandmother’s house).

Easter dinner has always been a wonderful part of my springs. Easter’s a low-pressure holiday to start with. It’s like a Thanksgiving at the other end of long, cold winter, and if it’s situated at just the right time in April, oh, do we have things to be thankful for. Asparagus, grown in the same county, not at the other end of the country, grilled, then showered with slivers of salty, intense Serrano ham. A leg of lamb, raised on a farm one county over, then marinated in pomegranate juice, garlic and rosemary and grilled medium rare. Baby carrots, and butter, and herbs. Arugula and roasted beets and paper-thin fennel. My mom’s pound cake, laced with sour cream, and dribbled with an early batch of North Carolina strawberries and Meyer lemon curd the color of a sunset. Oh, thank you!

But lest you think us fancy people, our favorite part of Easter dinner has much more humble, Midwestern roots. It’s sweet, but its background is about as salt-of-the-earth as you can get. A quivering, ruby-red rectangle of strawberries and crushed pineapple, bound with Jello, isn’t retro just for the sake of it. Easter at my mom’s house honestly, truly isn’t the same without this. Truth be told, this Jello salad never went out of fashion.

I know what you’re thinking. But this isn’t lime Jello. I don’t have any cottage cheese up my sleeve, I promise.

So lamb marinated in pomegranate juice is…well, really good. The asparagus with the Spanish ham…even better. Can any of them now make the same claim as The Strawberry Jello Salad, Hangover Balm? I think not.

Strawberry Jello Salad
When I called up my mom last night to ask her for this recipe, she said “The Jello salad doesn’t have a recipe.” Then she made one up on the spot, so it’s fair to call it a reasonable approximation. It’s important not to make the Jello the way the package tells you to. It calls for too much water, and this salad’s joy is in its intenseness. I like a lot of fruit, and not much Jello, and sliced into two layers sandwiching a tangy, cool smear of sour cream. It’s traditionally served at Easter dinners where there are Midwesterners present, and First Communions, and my uncle says Thanksgiving, too.

Serves about 10

1 small package strawberry Jello
1 box frozen strawberries
1 small can of crushed pineapple (about the size of a can of tuna)
1 cup boiling water
sour cream or cream cheese, enough to make about a 1/4 inch thick layer on a loaf pan

Mix the Jello with the boiling water. Drain the pineapple, save the juice. Add strawberries (don’t drain). Add pineapple and juice.

Pour half the Jello into a bread loaf pan, or a pretty mold. Put in freezer and let set. Take out when set and smear about 1/4 inch sour cream or cream cheese on top to create a second layer. Put back in freezer until cold. Take out and pour the rest of the Jello to create the third and final layer. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to serve. Use a wet knife to coax the Jello out of the pan or mold, and invert onto a plate for serving.