friday.

Now that's my kind of Friday night.  Fancy dipping sauce* and all.




*2 parts wasabi mayonnaise, 1 part ketchup.  Stir well.

still in style.

I sometimes wonder if anyone notices the girl with the mustard yellow winter headband warming her ears, loaded down with handbag and gym bag and grocery bag, basking in the warmth of the subway platform (which 5 short months ago was unbearable until the doors of the F train opened, blasting the lucky ones with cool air).  I wonder if they catch her casting sidelong glances at them as they wait for a train, and if they know that she's already stitched a narrative of their past in sixty seconds, all lost loves and long voyages and small in-between moments held together with twine.  I wonder if they've done the same for her.

But most of all, do they notice her reading material?  Do they realize it's no longer Sunday?

it just keeps getting better.

Christmas was really nice this year.
It's hard to go wrong with New York at Christmastime, coming home to family & cats, a delicious dinner, and spending time in front of the fireplace every night, but for some reason, this year just really topped them all.  Kevin and I enjoyed soaking up all the city had to offer (and the inevitable crowds that go with it).  Gifts given and received were the most thoughtful yet, and from a dinner party on Christmas Eve Eve to leftovers days after Christmas, each meal had everybody in the kitchen and tasted better than the one before.  I was surprised actually; this time last year, I had just come home from South Africa and couldn't have imagined a nicer Christmas-- but this year really took the cake (and pie, and salted pistachio-white chocolate bark).
There was hot apple cider at the Columbus Circle market, the Rockefeller tree, watching skaters in Central Park, fat happy cats with ribbons round their necks, and oysters on Christmas Eve, and bottles of vino, and Skype chats with family across the sea, and wrapping paper, and pearls, and beautiful cookbooks, and ginger-lemon crème brûlée, and long walks, and morning lie-ins, and pomegranate seeds, and shopping trips, and a whole lot of laughter.

I'm resigned to making 2012 the year of self-improvement in all aspects, but I really can't complain about life now.  I feel so lucky to have made the move to Brooklyn, especially last night when my roommates and I hosted a hair of the dog potluck to ring in the new year.  Our apartment was cozy and warm, looked beautiful in the last light of the dried-out Christmas tree, and was full of friends old and new, sharing food and drinks.  This year ended on the really high note it's been carrying all along.

Cheers to 2012.

happy holydays.

A gift from our generous old Italian landlord, a tree from the guy on the corner, and records old and new.

Happy Holydays.

my heart was in the right place...

... but my peppermint hot chocolate still exploded all over the microwave.  After my roommate had spent a good while scrubbing said appliance.

At least I've got Vince Guaraldi playing in the background.

But then again, there was a stovetop fire and massive flood in the building at work today, which caused it to "indoor rain" all over my desk and forced everyone to spend the day cleaning and running around and doing damage control.

At least I could see my breath as I rode my bike home from my second shift of the day, the wind going right through my safety-pinned coat.

But then again, there is still the issue of having no time for anything in these last few weeks before Christmas-- it's all comings and goings, laundry left undone, overdue DVDs and subsequent fines (I know, that's what I get for still checking out movies from the library), inevitable lack of time for a run or yoga.

At least I've got two boxes of Christmas lights just waiting for the right little evergreen to come along and live in my apartment.

I guess optimism is more easily come by at this time of year than usual.  Thank goodness.

thankful.

This may be a little late, but I am thankful for:
lemons that have finally ripened, kir royale and surprise on-sale lace dresses, Scrabble with my sisters and their loves (and champagne), Moroccan carrot salad, comfortable love, cheap beer, new friends, a night drinking and laughing just like high school, and a day out getting fresh air, unexpected toad-in-the-hole, and a glass of white wine with my dear Mum.

c'est arrivé!

Today, the third Thursday in November, we welcomed the arrival of Beaujolais nouveau with un poulet rôti, des frites, and a chilled bottle of this year's "bo-jo".
Beaujolais nouveau stands out because it is such a young wine, bottled and sold only a few weeks after the fermentation process has begun.  Across France and among oenophiles worldwide, this wine is greeted with banners and one-minute-after-midnight tastings.  Reviews are mixed among the French; critics cannot get past its youth, but it seems that its devotees believe a comeback is brewing (or fermenting, so to speak).
I liked what we tasted tonight.  Though its initial introduction is a bit astringent, I found the taste grew more rounded.  And it was a perfect accompaniment to our easy, tasty meal on this chilly autumn evening.

Bienvenue, bo-jo.

And as a side note, is there anything better than a rotisserie chicken?  Moist, flavorful, topped with a juicy skin-- not to mention incredibly convenient after a long day at work.  Paired with some Trader Joe's oven fries and a salad, it might just be the perfect dinner.  At least I think so.