As i've mentioned already, winter is my least favorite time of year, and this week's freezing rain and frigid temperatures have done nothing to lift my spirits. I also must confess to having a bit of a bah humbug attitude toward the holidays, for which i blame the American retailers who have been torturing me with Christmas carols since Halloween. It's hard to actually get excited about the holidays when you've been bombarded with exhortations to empty your wallet on inflatable yard ornaments and other useless items in the name of Jesus for a quarter of the year. This is probably why i always end up doing my holiday shopping at the last possible moment: i become so inured to the season that i end up forgetting how close Christmas is until about December 20th, which has been really good for all the overnight delivery companies.
However, all is not gloomy here, as i am never more prolific in the kitchen than during these short days and freezing nights. Since i cannot skip down the slippery sidewalks, i bask in the glow of a warm stove. To counter American consumerism run amok, i tend to take on the most arduous and intricate culinary adventures, and send to friends and family boxes of handmade chocolates and Jackson Pollack-painted gingerbread men. Truth be told, about now, the kitchen is usually covered in cocoa, there are smudges of chocolate on the refrigerator door, and there is powdered sugar and flour dusted over most surfaces as i race to finish the 8th kind of cookie so we can get them boxed up and out the door. Every year i've been upping the ante on difficulty, and last year this meant delving into the Culinary Institute of America's textbook tome on chocolate making, the end result of which was that in addition to the 8 kinds of cookies, there were grand marnier truffles and raspberry ganache filled chocolates made in a polycarbonate mold and dusted with edible ruby pixie dust.
