When I reached DC, there were two feet of snow on the ground; the day after, another foot fell. This induced a certain forgetful, otherworldly feeling. A fortnight later, visiting a dear friend in Clinton Hill, I woke and relished the sun sparkling off the ceiling.
And then we were back, and I made an apple walnut cake to celebrate. I'm eating a slice now. Quiet days to follow.
That late January light bouncing off the walls.
So gratifying to see your ingredients rowed and know you'll soon fill a friend's kitchen with the warm smells of baking. Buttermilk cake for dinner at Dilek's, buttermilk biscuits for a lunchtime playdate at Caitlin's. What better way to pass these last snowy January days than by the oven? (For a long time I used 550 flour when recipes called for all-purpose, now I'm excited about Bohlenser Mühle's 1050, which worked a treat on these two occasions.)
Now the silver sky is full of snow I'm especially glad to have this photo of Tuesday's golden light.
