If I'd had my way, the Christmas tree would have come down by New Year's. But since my husband refused to take down the tree and I as a matter of principle leave the construction and deconstruction of artificial trees to the men in my life, it remained in the corner of my home office, seven feet of pre-lit Christmas wonder twelve months too early.
When I took Dobby out for the last time each night, I could see the glow of it in the front window, and I wondered whether our neighbors had noticed that it was still up. My students certainly had noticed, seeing as it was in my webcam background, although only a couple had given me a hard time. My one consolation was that Mr. and Mrs. Downstairs still had theirs up as well.
At night, however, as I sat in the blue recliner to read, I had to admit it was nice to not have to turn on a lamp. The tree seemed to fill the whole room (and, by extension, the living room and kitchen) with brilliance. Midwestern Januarys are dismally dark; the light was especially welcome in the weak blue of early morning and the dense black that sets in after sunset.
But still I lobbied for the takedown of the tree, and eventually I got what I wanted. The second-to-last-Saturday, Mitchell agreed that if I packed away the ornaments, he would take care of the rest. I vacuumed up the shed needles and swung the chair back into its spot, and everything was back to the way it was on October 31st. (Yes, we put our tree up November 1st. No, that is not my decision.)
It looks so depressing in here, Mitchell said.
He was, of course, right. As much as I hated to admit it, I missed the tree. I missed the light.
Light is precious, Kate DiCamillo writes in her incredible children's novel The Tale of Despereaux. And in a world that is often dark, both metaphorically and literally, we must make our own light. Keep the Christmas tree up.
As I did last year, I intend to use these monthly review posts as a space for reflecting (see above) and recording. Specifically, I record how I pursue my favorite hobbies: reading, cooking, and writing. Here are the new things I tried––and, in some cases, old things I returned to––this month.
What I Read
Becoming, Michelle Obama (★★★★)
Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief, Rick Riordan (★★★★★)––reread
Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters, Rick Riordan (★★★★★)––reread
Percy Jackson and the Titan's Curse, Rick Riordan (★★★★★)––reread
The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck (★)
Confronting Injustice Without Compromising Truth: 12 Questions Christians Should Ask about Social Justice, Thaddeus Williams (★★★★★)––reread
If you want to hear the rationale behind my rating, head to my Goodreads for full reviews.
What I Cooked
This recipe has languished on my Pinterest for literal years, mostly because when I have steak, I'm just going to eat steak; I'm not necessarily going to make a sandwich. But when Mitchell zealously purchased the 2 largest t-bone steaks I have ever seen for our New Year's Eve dinner, I decided to put the leftovers to good use.
Unfortunately, since this was New Year's week, my grocery store had been cleaned out of horseradish (I guess everyone was making shrimp cocktail), so I had to improvise on the sauce and make the herb mayo from The Newlywed Cookbook instead. I also grabbed endive instead of watercress because it had been put where the watercress was supposed to be, so honestly I'm not sure whether it's even fair at this point to say I actually made the recipe.
That being said, the sandwiches were good. I do think the horseradish would have added a needed zing, and I would love to try these again.
Seeing as broccoli cheddar soup and chicken dumpling soup are both peak comfort food, this recipe was guaranteed to be a win. Mitchell commented that it was one of his favorite soups I've ever made. I accidentally left it on the stove too long, so the leftovers were a little ehhh (so...much...left...over...). I'm sure I'll make it again––just a half recipe, though.
I love cheese and pasta as much as the next girl, so naturally I had to make this. I forgot to add the spinach (oops), but it was great nevertheless. Again, a half recipe would be sufficient for the two of us. Not as great left over––although that may have been because my dear husband forgot to put a lid on the leftovers before putting them in the fridge.
I unexpectedly missed my grocery store excursion on Sunday due to a snowstorm, and with two cooked chicken breasts languishing in my fridge, I had to get creative. I didn't have noodles for my chicken noodle soup or potatoes for my chicken chowder, but I did have wild rice, chicken broth, and the veggies, so I went for it.
Really, this is everything you'd want in chicken and wild rice soup. I was skeptical of the lemon juice, but it didn't make the whole soup taste lemony––it just added some brightness. Since cream-based soups often taste a little flat, it was a welcome addition.
I wanted something to serve with the chicken tortilla soup I pulled out of my freezer, and I thought a nice spicy scone would do it. I was correct. I did halve the recipe on this one, and it made a perfect amount. The scones had a good kick from the jalapeño, although I thought it was strange that there were no spices. I would definitely add a little chipotle chili powder and cumin to future batches.
Instagram made me do it on this one. I love a good carrot cake, so this was just too tempting to resist. Although I did use my favorite cream cheese frosting in place of this one (again, The Newlywed Cookbook), otherwise I made it as directed.
My brother commented that he likes chocolate cake, and he likes carrot cake, and he likes both of them better individually. I concurred. The spices make carrot cake good, and without spice, it was basically just a super-dense chocolate cake with flecks in it. It was also extremely sweet. Overall, not impressed. Would not do again.
I have a perfectly good cinnamon roll recipe, so I'm not sure why I felt it necessary to try this one. My sister-in-law had recommended it, and I had a small get-together to attend, so I decided to give it a go.
My rolls rose beautifully––so beautifully, in fact, that I was wondering if they were going to spring clear out of the pan. I made the small but crucial error of neglecting to set the loaf pan on a baking sheet. As the fumes of burning cinnamon and sugar reached my nose, I wrenched open the oven door to discover that the center of one of the rolls had blossomed like a bizarre flower and then wilted over the side of the pan, dripping its filling into the bottom of the oven.
When I pulled the whole thing out of the tin, it continued drooping to one side, and my efforts to cut it proved . . . challenging, shall we say. Even though it was quite ugly, it was well-received, and it did taste good. The chai frosting was particularly excellent. I don't believe cinnamon rolls belong in loaf pans, however, and I will be sticking with my classic recipe, which has yet to fail me.
What I Created
Blackout poem "City on a Hill"
Unpublished original poem "Meditation on Psalm 22"
Winter is not over yet. But I noticed a few nights ago that, even though it was 5:30, it was not quite dark, and I was reminded that spring, however far away it may feel, is coming in to push back the dark. I look forward to its arrival, and to the way it will fill my little corner with light.