After years without any real snow, last week’s little storm was such a delight. 

Prior to the snowfall, I braced myself, not because of the storm, but because of the accompanying brutal — and lengthy — cold. The low temps, more than anything, were what made the whole storm so exciting: it was gonna snow, and then it was gonna STAY. And in Virginia, where most snow seems to disappear within 24 hours, a sticking snow felt like a major luxury. 

So what were my preparations? Since we have a four-legged milk spigot out back (an opulence I still can’t really get over), there was no mad dash to the store to stock up on milk. Mainly, I just tried to enjoy the outdoors as much as possible. There was the trip to the warm springs, and then the day of the storm, we playing Ultimate for more than two hours: the cold weather combined with the electric excitement of the incoming storm and the impending hunkering down made me positively zany with energy. It felt so good to run and run and run. 

The snow day itself, I celebrated by baking Mohnstreuselkuchen, a German Poppy Seed Streusel Cake (from this book), and then walking several miles to my parents’ house to say hi and deliver some cake, and then back home again.

The rest of the week was slow and cozy.

Constant tending of the roaring hot fire.
Thick socks.
Candles and twinkle lights.
The dozing dog.
Desk work.
Cinnamon raisin toast and hot chocolate with coffee liquor and homemade marshmallows.

Evenings were spent with NY Times word games, our Rosie Project read-aloud (we’re on the third book), and lots of episodes of Only Murders in the Building. 

One evening we (he) racked the chai mead.

Another evening we (he) ground a box of pork fat and then the next day we (I) rendered it into lard. 

Saturday last, my husband and I went ice skating at a neighboring farm.

The homeowners had sent out an alert on Facebook — anyone could come, and they even had a couple pairs of women’s skate that people could borrow. I hadn’t been ice skating in years, and I felt wildly teeter-tottery at first.

When I realized my ankles and knees weren’t going to snap, I gained a smidge of confidence and momentum.

We skated and skated, and at the end I stretched out on the ice and stared up at the sky. It’s not every day I get to recline on top of a frozen pond. It felt strange and wondrous. 

The next day, we played Ultimate again. I was hesitant — 5 inches of snow, holey cleats, and freezing temps didn’t exactly sound like a bed of roses — but I went anyway.

By the end, my feet were bright red and painfully cold, and I could wring water out of my socks, but I was happy.

Getting outside is the best mood booster. (I know this, and yet couch potato is still my default. What ails me?)

It’s been almost two weeks since that snow storm and the ground is still covered. We’re heading into the third week of deep cold. Temps are forecasted to drop as low as -4°F/-20°C next week. 

Winter is here.

This same time, years previous: fermented lemon honey, four fun things, apple strudel, this is who we are, full house, doing stupid safely, just do it, on being burned at the stake (or not), GUATELMALA!!

The other day my sister-in-law stopped by with a box of crackers and a thank you note for the bottle of mead I’d given them for their anniversary. At first I thought the crackers were some sort of candy brittle — they were so dark and glossy — but no, she explained, they were homemade crackers. To eat with your cheese, she wrote in her note. 

When I finally got around to tasting them, I was, to put it bluntly, stunned. They were amazing. Nutty, seedy, salty, and wonderfully crispy, they tasted outrageously expensive, like what you might find in the cracker display at Murray’s Cheese Shop in NYC, probably priced at something gawdawful ridiculous like $15 for 2 ounces. 

Of course I text-requested the recipe, and then I got all the more excited. There was absolutely nothing to these bad boys. They were positively pure, with simple ingredients and a wicked-easy make. Simply toss the seeds together with some salt and cornstarch, add a bit of oil and some boiling water, soak for 10 minutes, and then spread into a pan and bake. 

So far, I’ve been munching these plain — they are splendidly addicting — but I imagine they would be fantastic if served:

• With cheese (obvs)
• Spread with cottage (or ricotta) cheese and drizzled with honey
• Topped with mashed avocado
• Crumbled over a salad
• With a smear of cream cheese and fruit preserves
• Topped with nut butter and sliced banana
• Tossed with dried fruit and chocolate chunks for a trail mix
• Added to granola

Seed Crackers
Adapted from the recipe my sister-in-law sent me.

The actual recipe is titled “Gluten-Free Seed Crackers (Norwegian Crispbread Knekkebrod),” which makes these sound fancy, nutritious, and exotic. 

The recipe calls for raw sunflower and pumpkin seeds, but my sister-in-law and I agree that’s neither here nor there. So far I’ve just made them with salt, but she said that next time she’s adding black pepper and garlic salt, and she has also subbed poppy seed for some of the other seeds. I kinda think these might be nice with some nori crumbled in and a splash of soy sauce, or maybe, going in a completely different direction, with some orange zest and cinnamon?

⅓ cup sesame seeds
½ cup flax seeds
½ cup pumpkin seeds
½ cup sunflower seeds
2 tablespoon chia seeds
⅓ cup cornstarch
½ teaspoon salt
3½ tablespoons oil
¾ cup boiling water
flaky salt, for sprinkling

Stir together all the dry ingredients. Add the boiling water and oil and mix well. Let the dough rest for 10 minutes.

Using an off-set spatula, spread the seed mixture onto a parchment paper-lined half sheet pan (13×18-inch). At first it will seem like there’s not enough seed mixture, but no worries — there’s plenty! Working slowly, spread the cracker dough over the bottom of the pan. (If needed, dip the spatula in water to prevent it from sticking to the dough.)

Bake the crackers at 275 degrees for 90-110 minutes, rotating the pan occasionally. The crackers should darken slightly — aim for whatever level of toastiness you want. 

Cool the crackers to room temp and then break into pieces. Store the crackers in an airtight container at room temperature, or bag and freeze.

***

Midway through writing this post, I had to break for a cracker snack, this time with peanut butter and honey, and OH MY WORD, PEOPLE. If you haven’t already fled to the kitchen to knock these out, what are you even doing?!

I’m serious. Get cracking.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (1.10.22), 6.4 magnitude, the Baer Family Gathering of 2019, boys in beds, sticky toffee pudding.

Our pork roasts are stored in the barn freezer which means I keep forgetting to use them. But a couple weeks ago when we had friends coming for supper, I started remembering.

I thawed the meat the night before but didn’t bother to look for a recipe until that morning, and then I regretted my last-minute tendencies because the recipes were all over the place: browning meat ahead of time, insta-potting it, marinating, etc, etc. 

I finally found a recipe that seemed pretty straightforward — rub a spice blend all over the meat and then roast it low and slow — but then I didn’t get it in the oven soon enough so it was still baking when our friends arrived. We ended up visiting for nearly an hour, with me periodically jumping up to go jab a thermometer into the butt hunk. I was worried it’d be tough — I’m not good with meat, and our friends come from families which dominate when it comes to pork roasts (what was I thinking?) — but everyone was like, It’s gonna be fine. LET’S EAT.  

So eventually, even though the temps weren’t a uniform 180 degrees, I decided to just go for it. I sliced the roast thinly and set it on the table along with the corn, mashed potatoes, and collards, and hoped for the best.

And the best is exactly what happened! We devoured it, literally. The five of us ate (all but two slices of) that whole entire roast. 

“I guess this means I gotta change the week’s menu,” I said. “I was going to make pork tacos with the leftovers, but not anymore!”

“Just take off the ‘s,’” my husband said. “There’s enough meat for a pork taco.”

This week I roasted another pork butt (the one photographed here). This one I ripped into shreds and served it with fresh corn tortillas, a purple cabbage and carrot slaw, and an herby mayo dressing.

Once again, there weren’t many leftovers. 

Best Damn Pork Butt Roast
Adapted from Recipe Teacher.

Since leftovers are amazing and there are never enough, consider doing two roasts at once. The oven’s already running for the whole afternoon, so you might as well.

1 3-4 pound boneless pork butt
1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon each granulated onion, granulated garlic, smoked paprika, black pepper, and ground mustard
¼ teaspoon chipotle powder (or cayenne)

If the roast is encased in mesh, remove it. Cut off extra fat, leaving a quarter-inch cap. 

Mix the dry ingredients together and then sprinkle them over the roast on all sides. If you have time, let the roast rest in the fridge for up to 24 hours. 

Place the roast in a roasting pan on a rack, fat cap facing up. There is no need to cover the meat while it bakes. Bake at 350 degrees for 3-5 hours, or until the internal temperature reaches 180 degrees. It’ll look like something left behind in a house fire, but no worries: the fat keeps the meat tender and juicy. (If a longer bake time is desired, feel free to drop the oven temp to 300 degrees. )

Let the meat rest for 10-20 minutes before thinly slicing (or shredding) and serving.

This same time, years previous: my new office, the quotidian (1.9.23), classic Christmas fruitcake, my new kitchen: pendant lighting, the quotidian (1.9.17), sourdough crackers, one year and one day, between two worlds, the qotidian (1.9.12), hog butchering.