On the roadtrip, amongst dozens of delicious meals, I got positively sick of eating out. I longed for a full loaf of bread on the counter, a large wedge of orange cheese in the fridge, a gallon of orange juice, a toaster, a cupboard of simple soup possibilities, a bag of corn tortillas waiting to be tossed on the stovetop, a can of refried beans. The warm pictures of handcrafted meals that 3191 miles apart often fills their pages with are not, as I have been sometimes suspicious, glorified Martha Stewart-esque “perfect home” moments, but just a captured second of the delight we can create in our meager kitchens. Meager yet mighty kitchens. The magical satisfaction you can create with an avocado, a jar of mayonnaise, a pepper grinder, and a few slices of bread cannot be overstated. Or how about a slice of pumpkin bread–perhaps the world’s easiest bread recipe–slathered with peanut butter? Unstoppable.
I was recently puzzling over the treats that Winter promises us–Fall brings cider, apples, doughnuts, cute jackets that aren’t really warm, garlicky cranberry relishes–and wondering what they were. Early evenings? Extensive Netflix queue revamping? A higher percentage of red wine receipts? More balling and fuzzing of the sweaters? Maybe it’s that brisk and icy encouragement to stay inside for the evening and rummage through the tea bag selections, put in a good 45 minutes of vegetables chopping all for the sake of a murky stew, puzzle over a tricky pizza dough recipe, or find ways to live off a homemade loaf of bread for a few days.
Both photos from the lovely aforementioned 3191 Miles Apart.