from my kitchen

Did you feel that? I just sent you a great, big hug. A bis, too. As much as I couldn't help but write my last post in humble grief and frustration, it never occured to me that publishing it would elicit such warmth and support. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Now I'm hoping to balance out the heaviness with a lighter topic: homemade food; another necessary comfort I appreciate greatly.

After a year without a kitchen, coming home to a stovetop (and counter space) is just about the most wonderful thing in the world. I use it for legitimate meals often. The other day, I even cooked chicken for the first time! Seriously. Though I regularly enjoy it out, I've previously shied away from preparing it myself. I used my mom's basic cutlet recipe on drumsticks: coating each one in flour, dipping into egg, and shaking in a bag with bread crumbs and herbs before placing into a pan with hot oil. They tasted like home.

I'm usually less adventurous (read: cook vegetarian) though. Post-chicken dinner, I brought home a head of red cabbage to braise: cutting it into pieces, adding to a pan already containing a generous amount of butter, topping off with a few tablespoons of water, sprinkling with salt, and cooking at low heat until the liquid is absorbed. Quite the chef, huh? Thank god I prefer simple, seasonal flavors. Honorable mention goes to the apple oatmeal with peanut butter that's been brightening up dreary Parisian mornings.