feathering a nest

On cold, drizzy days, I am overwhelmed by the urge to make wholesome, warm, filling foods; to hunker down into domestic bliss.

This weekend's litany of domestic duties includes drywall repair, Hollandaise sauce, vichyssoise, walnut-crusted tilapia (idea stolen from a restaurant menu), and perhaps some laundry. Note that "cleaning" does not appear on my list. Since my in-laws will be arriving Friday morning for an extended Thanksgiving stay, cleaning should occur at some point this week. I believe I'll be calling my trusty cleaning service for an emergency visit, though, rather than doing it myself. I just don't dust, particularly when I have lovely things to cook.

I visited the gourmet grocery store after church today (my singing voice not much improved by all the drywall dust I inhaled yesterday) and came home with some beautiful produce, including lovely, golden-skinned, small, sweet onions and a bunch of robust leeks with heathly, waxy green ends. In preparation for a few more days of cold and wet, I also procured organic chicken legs, to braise slowly tomorrow evening in red sauce and stock, and a fragrant white Spanish table wine to sip slowly.

The happiest find, though, was the largest, greenest bunch of fresh basil I've ever seen, for caprese sandwiches (toasted bread topped with fresh buffalo mozarella, tomatoes, and torn basil).

I intend to make my house smell like winter.