Uncostumed? Ask 5.

We got a note from the folks over at Paul Fredrick asking us for some low-stress/high-reward Halloween costume ideas. But they already had some pretty good ideas, which made us think their email was just a backhanded way of rubbing their dumb creativity in our faces. This naturally made us feel super jelly and, consequently, hyper competitive. And that's why we wrote this post. If any of you guys haven't already devoted hours of careful concept development, stringent dress rehearsing, and tender sequin application to your All Hallow's Eve getup this year, seriously reconsider your priorities. Also, enjoy these last minute ideas for some last minute Halloween costumes from your favorite procrastinators (and if you end up wearing any of them, send us pictures at fivetdsisters@gmail.com)!

Kimber: "Future Wes Anderson character." Look in closet for any and all monochromatic clothing. Add contrasting (or coordinating) head gear, simple yet intense eye makeup, and severe hair. Name your character (good options included: Nan, Flossie, Mrs. Greoter, Dimple), and tell people it's a character from Wes Anderson's new movie. Not this one. People will either a) think you're in the know, or b) think you are quite clever. 

Charity: I always have grand plans for Halloween, but they typically don't work out. My friend Sarah Ward is a master of costuming and I recommend you check out some of her ideas. But here are a few thoughts from yours truly.

A pumpkin head. Cut a pathetic hole in the bottom of a large pumpkin along with eye holes (optional). Clean out pumpkin. Place on your head. Dress in black or jeans and flannel.

A dog. Tube socks make perfect ears when attached to a headband. Put on white, grey or black sweats, attach another tube sock to your fanny for a tail. Give your nose some attention from your eyeliner and make the tip a little black triangle, put on some freckles and Voila. You're a dog.

Fall down a hill in SF, scrape up your knee and wrap it up in gauze and surgical tape. Wait. Don't to that. I did that. It's not a good costume

Liberty: (1) Dress up like a panda* (for me this means black pants and sweatshirt, the fuzzy white faux-fur vest Momo got me last year, two buns for ears and HEAVY eyeliner).
(2) Cover panda costume with a large black sack.
(3) Pin a sign to the sack reading "Due to the shutdown of the federal government the Smithsonian National Zoo's Panda Cam will be offline until further notice."
*actual panda costume optional.

Mercina: We couldn't get in touch with Mercina in time for her to contribute to this post, but we're pretty sure we know what she would have suggested.


Glorianna: A famous person running errands. Wear what you always wear, but say that you're dressed as [insert name-of-that-one-celebrity-you've-always-kind-of-thought-you-look-sort-of-like here] when they're at the the grocery store or renewing their driver's license. People won't be able to help but say "Oh! Wow! I definitely see where you're getting that from. You guys have the exact same [smile / build / eyes / eyebrows / nostrils / hat / number of fingers]." Abracadabra: you spend the night feeling Hollywood handsome (it's cool, girls can be handsome too) after putting no extra effort into your appearance. Double success.

Have a question? Ask 5. You'll have a 1 in 5 chance that 

someone will see it your way!

Just send your questions to:

fivetdsisters@gmail.com

Opium Pie

Sunday evening, the entire DC TD clan gathered at Mimo's house for a massive potluck. A missionary serving in another local congregation grew up in the same Hungarian village as our great-grandfather, so we decided to muster our collective culinary bravado to help him feel at home. Momo was in town, and she turns every gathering into a party. But, even by our spoiled standards, this particular night had a magic alchemy -- sour cream flowed like the Danube, the seven little cousins performed a mini concert, and we all sang Hungarian hymns. And then we sang a few bawdy folk songs. We laughed until we cried trying to decipher polyglottal puns and remembering happy times, people we love and endless fields of Carpathian sunflowers.

For the occasion, I made my take on classic mákos pite. A friend of my grandmother's once called this rich poppy seed cake "opium pie," and the name stuck. I twisted the traditional recipe a bit, adding cream cheese to the shortbread and abandoning the egg wash for a crumblier top. The results are pretty sophisticated -- my kids aren't quite sure yet whether they love it. But it was a home run with everyone over the age of seven. Which actually works out pretty well. 

The Book Barn

This morning I went on a delightful little birthday outing with a few delightful friends. We ventured out from the familiar (if not exactly safe) embrace of New Haven up to The Book Barn in Niantic. It was like a happy dream -- thousands of old books organized into different little stalls and carts across a block or so of property (crime novels in this shanty, classics across the way on that wagon, etc.), interspersed with benches for reading and cats for petting. Can you imagine anything better? (If you can, then maybe we can't be really good friends.)

I picked up quite a few dollar tomes I've been meaning to read but haven't had on hand, as well as some other books I hadn't known I'd been meaning to read but now realize I definitely had to have been. If you find yourself in the proximate neighborhood of the Connecticut coast, I can't recommend this little bibliophile's paradise highly enough. To fully optimize your experience, I would suggest going on a crisp yet sunny autumn afternoon while wearing a scratchy wool sweater and sipping from a thermos full of hot cider.

Notes from Montreal

Howdy folks!

On Saturday we had our first baptism! It was wonderful. The little boy (he's 10) was so incredibly excited. And everyone was really supportive. His father (who is not a member) really wanted to be there, but could only make it if the baptism was at 10am. Which is really early for most people. But everyone we invited came! Yup. There were over 30 people there, which, in my ever so humble opinion, is pretty good for a Saturday morning baptism. But we didn't actually think anyone was going to come. And we didn't think we would have food, so we were a little anxious. Here's the thing, baptisms in the Lemoyne ward are kind of a big deal. People love making them into parties. But this baptism didn't really seem like it was going to be a party. And while we would have liked to spend the day before preparing things for the baptism, our schedule was filled with a lot of scheduled service - followed by teaching appointments which we couldn't move. 

So, Friday night after planning I made a big apple crisp and a loaf of bread, we organized the cookies and spreads the family had given us, and hoped for the best. And, despite our low expectations, the baptism was a party. It was perfect. And even though the ward mission leader brought beautiful fruit and pastries, and other members brought exquisite home-made muffins and cookies, everyone was very moved that we - the missionaries - had made offerings, too. AND the apple crisp was a crazy hit. Everyone was a fan. And as long as I'm a missionary, I don't think I will ever stop hearing members tell me that as soon as I get home, I'mma get married 'cause I'm just too cute and I cook too good.' What can I say? They're very sweet...and I still have to work on this humility thing :)

I love you alll tooooooo much! We had Thanksgiving here last week. It was...nice. But not really, because it wasn't American and none of you were here. 

OK. 

Je vous aime plus que beaucoup!!!!!!!!

Chain rxn

Life in Denver has been fraught with unexpected consequences. The results of these little chain-reactions aren't bad, just unforeseen (though also totally predictable, as long as you're noggin is on straight). Take for instance our living situation. We planned to use Momo's house as a landing zone, a place to rest our heads for a moment before finding a place to truly call our own. But here we are, four months in, happy as clams, and feeling more settled in our "temporary housing" with each passing day. Or--also related to housing--there was the time when Momo and I bought almost an entire home's worth of furniture for the place Premal and I were *thisclose* to closing on, but you know how that story ended. This left us with an extra oh... 20-ish pieces of furniture--large pieces--and nowhere to put them. We ended up giving Momo's sunroom a little update, and the results are dreamy. Finally, I've learned that when a recipe calls for 5 egg-yolks it's best to figure out what to do with the accompanying whites beforehand. Otherwise you'll end up with vats of unappetizing translucent gunk crowding up your fridge until you get the wise idea to transform them into magical pavlovas. Which is exactly what I did.

I based mine off of this one from Ina Garten, though I opted for precious individual portions, as I find full-sized pavlovas a tad intimidating. Also, I lost my nerve and jacked up the heat to an uncouth 350 degrees f when they showed no signs of setting after 2.5 hours at the prescribed 180. Perhaps they were more golden than the Contessa would have liked, but they tasted sublime (and I prefer most things a shade or two darker--this is a reference to my husband). Finally, while berry compote is a perfect accompaniment to pavlova, I opted for Charity's caramel sauce, homemade spiced dark-chocolate ice cream, and a sprinkling of fresh raspberries. This was a very, very good idea. 

P.S. THIS is my unofficial soundtrack for this gif

Left to rot.

I feel so bad for those lonely, pathetic, green tomatoes of October, shivering on the vine waiting for a frost to make them entirely irrelevant. If you have some, this is a great recipe for you. If you don't, this is also a great recipe. It tastes like early fall, it's beautiful and delicious. Since I try to be as veg/vegan as I can and Yoni loves a little meat now and again, the fact that it's vegan friendly with a meat option makes my husband happy. This is the same reason for the cilantro/basil substitution -- Yoni seems to be genetically predisposed to disliking cilantro and it's nice to have a little something green in there. The bread is from my all-time favorite bakery, Il Forno in the Bronx. I gained 3 pounds on the bag of bread I got there last time, but I had one loaf I froze. Even stale, it puts most other breads I've tried to shame. Yes, it's that good. It was the perfect accoutrements to the soup, making it kind of an American version of Zuppa di Pane, a Tuscan soup made with stale, crusty bread.

Bread, Corn, Onion and Green Tomato Chowder
4 medium sized green tomatoes, sliced in rounds or 1 medium can of tomatoes chopped
3 cups sweet corn (usually about 3 stalks, if it's fresh)
3 medium onions. Purple is pretty, but unnecessary
1/2 lbs greens. I used broccoli greens and rainbow chars, but whatever you have growing or available will do. Think lemony over bitter.
1 12 oz. bottle of pale ale
12 oz. apple juice or 1 1/2 cups apple sauce plus 2 tbsp maple syrup
12 oz. vegetable  or chicken broth
12 oz. water (if sauce juice is used)
Salt. Smoked paprika, tumric, and Thai chili paste to taste
Cilantro or Basil for a garnish
sausage (optional)

Add olive oil and a pinch of salt to the pan. Dice onions and add to hot oil. Sautee onions for 15 to 20 minutes on medium heat -- they should be browned and clear. Add other spices to taste -- about a half teaspoon a piece. To that, add the beer, broth and apple juice. Allow to simmer for 20-30 minutes. Add corn, tomatoes and greens. If you want it, add sausage at this point. Simmer for another 10 minutes. Pour over a few pieces of crusty bread. Garnish with molasses, basil or cilantro.

Good Mail

I got the sweetest letter today from Mercina. It came in a cheery zigzaggy envelope -- I think she folded it herself -- and was just brimming with the dearest sisterly affection. A perfect Canadian leaf slipped from the card when I opened it. I think I shall treasure it for a very long time.

Sitting in my kitchen and reading about my sister's feelings, written with black ink by her own delicate fingers, was so very tangible and satisfying. It unleashed a flood of memories from my own mission in Hungary -- what a wonderful, challenging and deeply meaningful chapter that was for me. I thought about the letters I wrote and received in Hungary, especially from my once and future Dave. I went back a read a few of his notes tonight. It is so sweet to remember how much we learned about each other from those many, heartfelt missives. Three kids and 8+ years of marriage later, I can see him even more clearly between the lines. 

I came home from Hungary just about 10 years ago, and I haven't written nearly enough letters since then. Email is so easy. The concise efficiency of text messaging is a dream come true for those of us who can't have a five minute conversation when an hour would do. I can say hi to everyone I know with a quick click on Facebook. Sometimes, I even blog! And I'm not going to apologize for la-la-loving all that easy, cheap communication. But I'm not going to apologize for loving a good old fashioned letter with a stamp about a million times more. I'm going to try to indulge in them more often...

5 signs that s/he might be "The One"

Dearest People,

I had the opportunity to meet with a group of high school kids from some tough schools as part of Chicago Ideas Week. They were great: smart and engaged. They had just heard my story, but what made their eyes go wide was my husband. The girls and the boys were stunned that a guy would not only stay through a surgery, but marry someone going in the shadow and valley of death. It made me realize that I have never really posted about what I feel made mine and Yoni's relationship work and what as women we should expect from the men around us. So here are a few things I think were really essential for me and Yoni during our relationship:

1. Neither of us expected it would turn into anything. You know that feeling. You've met a guy and you're pretty sure they're "the one". You match up on paper, you're terribly attracted to him and you've had a sneaky suspicion or a testimony that this is the man you are eventually going to marry. Yoni and I were friends and knew each other for 2 years before we began to date. Once we did, I had a few signs that Yoni might be the man I was supposed to spend my life with and I took NONE of them seriously. We were very different people and even if we were falling in love, the complicating factors were too vast to reconcile. This fact removed any stress from the relationship. We were able to be our selves anf from the beginning we got to know one another instead of being distracted by trying to be the person we thought the other person wanted us to be. Which brings me to point two.

2. Be honest. This doesn't mean telling him each and every family secret on the first date, but as soon as I realized I liked and was getting ready to actually love Yoni, I let him know very clearly what my values were, what my relationship with faith was, how complicated my family was and how serious my disease was. The last thing I was interested in was falling in love with a man who wasn't able to accept that.

3. Know your non-negotiables and be consistent.  I'm not talking about tall, dark and handsome. I knew Yoni and I had very different upbringings so I knew I couldn't just expect him to know what was acceptable to me and what wasn't. He actually asked me very early on in our relationship because ... well, because he was a nice person, he loved me and he wasn't  interested in hurting me. I sent him a list of behavior and benchmarks -- of things that would have to happen if we were to continue our courtship and things that I was not going to engage in before I was married to someone. I think there was definitely a time where he wanted to figure out what he could get away with. But as time went on, he held to the rules I set as firmly as I did. We also had a clear idea of what progress we needed to make if we were going to continue a relationship.

4. Make sure your non-negotiables are compatible or the same. One of the biggest problems in marriages is when people have different and deeply held objectives and goals. Maybe you want tons of kids and the person you're dating doesn't want any. Maybe you have deeply held religious beliefs and your partner can't stand religion. Maybe you want a partner who will be an active part of home life and they have a big career that keeps them very busy. Figure these things before hand. Do some serious soul searching and figure out what you are really willing to compromise on and what you know you will regret in 10 or 20 years. When you're doing this, talk to your friends and your family. They know you as well as anyone. The cloud of love can be quite intoxicating and their advice and guidance can be invaluable. Even if you don't take all of it -- you're looking to marry you're partner, not your mom and your mom might never "get it" -- but see what underlying values you are willing to compromise on and what is sacred. Once you figure out what that second group is, don't compromise. If you do, you'll resent your self and your partner for it.

5. Forgive. There was recently a study on why people get divorced and why people stay together. What they found was married and divorced couples had the exact same problems but some people decided to stay together and some people didn't. There are certainly situations where divorce or leaving someone is absolutely justified and necessary. No one should be subjected to abuse, violence or addiction and sometimes, friends need help and support in leaving an abusive relationship. No one should judge someone else if they leave because of infidelity. In the same breath, no one should judge if someone doesn't leave in the face of infidelity.  Forgiveness is the basis of all love and of all meaningful relationships. I am certainly not the most gifted in this one -- ask Yoni -- but Love Story was totally off. Love  is kissing and making up. It is being willing to admit you're wrong. It's being willing to forgive when people don't admit it and it's the commitment to make things work despite the 101 reasons it shouldn't. Without practicing this element of true love multiple times a day, a relationship will never survive. With it, love can last for eternity. 

Notes from Montreal

One of the unique things about my mission is that we have a lot of different languages going on - all the time. My area is "French" but there are also Spanish and English missionaries called in the exact same area, but who serve in different congregations. It's really interesting. And it means that we do things a little differently. For example, my trainer was called in Spanish and learned Spanish in the MTC. But her first area was French, French, French. And while she grew up speaking French in Haiti, she moved to the U.S. when she was 10 and hadn't spoken French since arriving (she's 26 now). Furthermore, she was a convert, so the unique Gospel vocabulary was not something which she could just "remember". Every morning we have personal study followed by companionship study. We read our scriptures and plan and prepare for the people we'll be teaching that day. We routinely pray in Spanish, French, English, and Haitian Creole. And when we read things out-loud together, I read in French and she reads in Spanish. It's a little intense, but it's also kind of cool. Especially because we teach lots of different types of people, some who prefer to read in French, pray in Spanish, and speak in English - others who switch between the three languages constantly. Again, a little much at times, but also really cool. 

Another cool thing about my area is that everyone in our congregation is related. It kind of reminds me of Capitol Hill and our family, but to an even greater extent. The bishop is one of 6 and most of his siblings - as well as their spouses - live in the ward. His youngest brother is the ward mission leader, and it just makes me happy to think of Zen at 30 serving as the ward mission leader in a ward where Shiloh is Bishop, surrounded by his 4 adorable babies and crazy-pretty French-Canadian wife. It is a good idea. 

OK. The leaves here are absolutely beautiful! I have never appreciated fall so much! It's really magical. And painful, because I desperately want to bake pumpkin pie and braid leaf garlands with all of you. And I can't. But.....Eeeep. I just can't think about that right now. OK. Moving on - 

There is a family here. The mother is single - she's really pretty, and looks about 32, but she has 4 of her own children and also cares for the son of an ex-boyfriend. Yesterday between sessions of conference we walked over to teach him a lesson. The whole family gathered around and we talked about the attributes of Christ. It was really uplifting. Everyone - from the mother, to her 17 year old son, to the 2 year old baby - participated. When we got up to leave, it was pouring. We had walked from church, so the boys ran to give us their rain coats to put over our fall jackets (we looked awesome), the mother wrapped our book bags in plastic bags, and we set out. After conference we returned to drop of the rain coats and bags, and the mother asked us where we were eating that night. "Chez-nous [our house]!" we replied, and she insisted on feeding us instead.

Gathering the family to listen to our lesson may have seemed like a little thing. Giving us rain jackets - as well as taking the time to wrap up our book bags - was also a small act of kindness. Feeding us leftovers may have seemed simple to some people, but coming from this single mother of 5, it was incredibly kind and generous. As I munched on plantain pancakes in their kitchen, I knew that they were living in the way that Christ would have wanted them to live. They were being sensitive and generous enough to recognize what they could do to make someone else's journey a little better and brighter. And I know this isn't very well written - it hasn't even been proof-read, and it won't be because I'm out of time on the computer. But what I want to say is that we are all capable of magnifying the love shown to us through the way we live each day. We can (and should) take the time to smile at the people we see on the street. We can (and should) hold open the door for the person behind us. And if we can, which most of us can, we can and should buy that homeless person a sandwich - because heaven knows that's what Christ would do. And isn't that what we're all trying to do anyway? To be just a little kinder, gentler, more thoughtful, loving - in a word, more Christlike?

Je vous aime!

Half Moon Bay

 

When I was 5-6, we lived in Califorrnia in a suburb of San Francisco called Burlingame.  Two of the most clear memories I have come from days spent in Half Moon Bay. While others might think of "The Birds," for me it will always be the Land of Eternal Autumn. It brings to mind picking pumpkins, cutting down our Christmas tree and gazing in terrified awe upon the vastness of the ocean. Whenever you go, the weather seems to be the same: a sweater is nice to have, but not necessary. The place is reminiscence. Where better to spend a few hours with two of my dearest friends (more about them here and here) while Yoni and I were traveling from one performance to another? I couldn't think of a place. It was really lovely.   

Multitasking

Sorry I've been absent lately. I've been a little swamped.

I actually do have my hands full.

I have about six half-written aspirationally-profound blog posts, but I just can't get my act together to finish them right now. So, instead, I'm posting a picture of me and a baby and a baby crocodile, and cutting and pasting an excerpt from my last letter to Mercina. Which is actually a little funny, because often when I write to Mercina, I cut and paste from the blog. Hmmmmm... 

****

Mimo got home this afternoon from a week in Budapest, and I went to pick her up from airport. Since I had to go all the way to Dulles, I made plans last week to spend the day with friends at the Air and Space Museum annex, to feed Hettie's surprisingly long-lived, (Tom-fueled), obsession with becoming an astronaut. But then the government shut down, and it took the museum along for the ride. So instead I got in touch with my old Yale roomie, Lindsay, who now lives in Leesburg. Even though she's a million months pregnant, she's a total sweetheart and sent me the name of a restaurant between her place and the airport where we could spend a couple hours catching up. At the appointed hour, the kids and I were waiting and SO eager to see her. And she sent a txt "I'm here!" And I sent one back "me too!" But neither of us saw the other. Which actually made perfect sense because we were in different branches of the same restaurant 30 minutes apart. And it was my bad. And at that point, neither of us had the time or energy to schlep our impressive entourages over to where the other one was. We're going to try again next week....

On the bright side, I was right next to a MicroCenter, and Dave had desperately wanted me to pick up an Ethernet cable so he could finally mount a TV in our kitchen. So I trundled the kids over there, and we found it, and while I was standing in line, the guys in front and behind me both together started lecturing me about how I should really buy it online at a place called monoprice.com, because it would save me $40 and I could get it in any color I wanted rather than the bright blue that the store carried (and I actually just checked right now and they were totally right), so I called Dave and he said to abort mission. Which was annoying.  

We headed over to the airport, and I was worried because I just knew I was going to have a hard time finding Mimo, and she would end up frustrated and in a cab (it's happened before!). So I called around to make sure I had the right number for the friend who was flying with Mimo. It turned out that I had the right phone number, but the wrong flight information -- they arrived an hour LATER than I'd been told (which would have given me plenty of time to connect with Lindsay). But by this point, we were already right next to the airport and Phinny and Willa were asleep in their car seats, so we just waited.  

BUT. Once they finally did land, actually connecting was really quite painless. And Mimo was just brimming with sweetness. And we had the nicest trip home. (Except for a quick squat-pot on the side of the 66 during rush hour traffic. That actually wasn't the best...)  

And I realize this is all very rambling. But I just thought I'd share, because, really, it was a wonderful day. I had such a nice lunch with the kiddies, and at least 3 or 4 people came over and told me how darling and well-mannered they are. sometimes that really is just heaven to hear. And even sitting in the car at the gas station was genuinely fun. Hettie and I had the nicest chat about life. She is such a charming, intelligent little girl, and sometimes it's hard to find a quiet minute just to see what's going on inside her sweet little brain. And during our many long car rides, she and Phinny sang along to ALL the songs on the latest Sandra Boynton CD that Momo gave them -- it really might be the cutest thing ever. my heart wants to burst just thinking about it. 

Sometimes the weird crazy days with lots of disappointment and wasted time end up being surprisingly satisfying. Because there is something about being anxiously engaged that is inherently valuable, regardless of the outcome of your labors.  

And it's important to have priorities -- of course it would have been NICE to spend the day at the museum, and to see Lindsay, and to get the TV finally working and maybe to hit up the outlet stores rather than sit in a parking lot... BUT the most important thing was to get Mimo home in a spirit of love and appreciation, and also to spend some meaningful time with the kids. And on those two accounts, the day was a mad success. 

Moderation

Things I tend to over-indulge in:

Oh. And also:

As the term suggests, it's best not to overindulge in things. Sometimes it's easier to avoid doing so than others (for example, when your brother changes the Netflix password and doesn't tell you what it is, you don't watch a lot of Netflix; when your brother brings you an entire jar of Nutella to store in your room, you (or at least I) eat a lot of Nutella). I recently made a big gain in my fight against excessive tendencies by imposing a limit on my Facebooking with a handy dandy little Google Chrome app called StayFocusd. Now, with only 10 minutes combined to spend on my least favorite favorite social networking site and a variety of other time-gobbling websites every day, I find I have a lot more time to waste in other ways -- like listening to this or walking here or stealing one of these and painting it white and hanging all my necklaces on it. Anyway, it's past my bedtime, but I guess what I'm trying to say is this: there are a lot of cool random things to do, so don't spend all your pennies in one machine, yoooooo.

night night sleep tight,

An Exciting Announcement...

Yoni and I at Heartland Farm in Markham, VA. More pictures from that in my next post.

We're Having Pumpkins

for dinner!

We 're expecting* they'll be delicious.

Pumpkin stuffed with Roasted Pecans, Pinto Beans & Green Chili 

For all of the other people hoping for pumpkins this year, a perfect recipe. Yoni and I love this when we get back into town because the components either freeze or keep really well.

For tis recipe, you can use any kind of hollow, yellow/orange fleshed squash. I like Japanese Pumpkins for their sweetness or Delicata, because they're perfect for two servings and you can eat the skin.  It is inspired by a similar dish from Julia Blackbird where I always eat their similar dish or their chili rellenos.

A hollow squash

Pecans

Beans

Green Chili

Feta Cheese or Queso Fresco

Fresh Corn

maple syrup, brown sugar or honey

Water

1. Split squash in half, placing about 1 tsp of maple syrup in with a tablespoon water. Bake with til tender. 2. Meanwhile, warm beans and chili.  3. Crush about half a cup of roasted pecans and 4. press into the flesh  inside the cavity of the squash.  5. Fill with warmed beans -- be generous with beans. 6. Smother with green chili. 4. Top with fresh corn kernels and crumbled cheese.

for the best beans, follow the jump ...

The cure for a whiney heart

Ugh. So, I know I said "exciting things were in the works(!)," but it appears I spoke too soon. Premal and I have been looking for a home to call own own since moving to Denver in July, and it seemed as though we had finally found one. It was a stately town home in the city center, blocks away from the Capitol, art museum, and some of our very favorite eateries. The finishes were classic, and the kitchen had been designed by a chef. I loved it. And so, we dug in.Contracts were drawn up, and read, and signed, and shared, and returned, and read and signed. And then we exhaled, and smiled nervously at one another. Then, lenders and owners and inspectors and neighbors were called and called and called. Then more contracts came, and I read all the small print, then we signed and returned, and wrote checks. And as I worked from our living room in the basement of my mother's home, workers broke ground outside my window digging a tremendous hole that will someday form a patio and passage into this space. We'd share smiles though the glass throughout the day, comrades in adjoined trenches boring our way through the tasks at hand. Then suddenly, both the workers and I stopped. Their reason was quite simple, the hole was dug, and it was time to move on to other tasks. I, on the other hand had come upon the dark underbelly of my dream home, and we deemed the venture too risky.In the aftermath, I felt a lot like this. What did I have to show for my weeks of work? I stood by my window, envious of the tangibility of the completed task on the other side, and the satisfaction that comes from a physical task well done. I wanted to wallow, but I did not want to stagnate. So I decided to make something--and nurse my heavy heart while I was at it.   

Premal has been hankering for some homemade ice cream for a while, and we figured nothing goes together like self pity, and a pint of frozen deliciousness. The recipe is based on this keeper from David Leboitz, reworked with a modern twist on traditional Indian flavors.

Saffron Ice Cream with Candied Pistachios 

(or Kesar Pista)

• 1 c.  whole milk
• pinch of salt
• 3/4 c. sugar
• 15-ish strands saffron (I bought mine at Costco)
• 2 c. heavy cream
• 5 egg yolks (it's a lot, but you won't be sorry)
• 1/2 t. vanilla extract
• 1/2 c. shelled pistachios--roughly chopped
• 1 t. butter
• 2 T. brown sugar
• pinch salt 

Heat the milk, salt, and sugar in a saucepan until sugar dissolves. Add saffron, remove from heat and let steep covered while you watch an episode of Breaking Bad. Pour cream in a bowl (DL says to put said bowl in an ice bath. I don't know why, but I still did it). Rewarm milk mixture, and temper yolks by adding a small amount of milk mixture to them while whisking. Add tempered yolks to milk mix and cook over low heat, stirring constantly and scraping the bottom with a heat-resistant spatula, until the custard thickens enough to coat the spatula. Strain the custard into the heavy cream. Stir until cool, add the vanilla extract, then chill thoroughly (overnight if in the fridge, or approx. one more episode of Breaking Bad if you throw it in the freezer. Guess which I did?) 

Meanwhile, candy your pistachios by melting butter in a small saucepan, add brown sugar and 1 T. water. Bring to boil (should be quick) add nuts and salt. Stir till all nuts are coated evenly, remove from heat and spread on a non-stick surface to cool. 

Retrieve custard from the freezer and freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions, adding nuts towards the end of the freezing process.