Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Dinner, frozen in time

If you had told me that the garlic mustard pesto I made in the spring in Brooklyn would be eaten for dinner in Harlem in autumn...

But it was.

We are all shook up. To our respective cores.

But we have not been eating badly.


  1. This is why I turn my garden basil into pesto and some ends up in the freezer. If I put it in freezer bags, I can always just break off a bit of it or use it all depending on what I'm making.

    Looks like you found the box with the kitchen stuff. I see Estorbo waiting for a treat too. We have a (bad) habit of eating in front of the tv with an audience of two cats watching every bite that makes it off the plate!

  2. Yummy supper and you already have a picture up! Marie, you're amazing...

  3. I give you credit.
    When we moved into our new home, I could not get comfy in the new kitchen for at least a month.
    I avoided the stove/oven and everything............I only wanted to go out to eat.
    Henry finally said "are you ever going to cook again?".
    And I did!

  4. Well, not a whole lot of eating out is going to happen at this end - we've just dented our bank accounts! And the act of cooking actually settles me down. Everything else is chaotic, but the minute I start chopping and slicing I am in an environment I can control, again...

  5. Moving is so traumatic - so much disorganization, so much physical stress and so much mental stress in trying to manage the logistics so everything happens when it's supposed to happen. But I have to say I do like the home-making part. Unpacking and finding just the right spot for all those things that make the new place home. The first meals go a long way to making a place home.

    During our last move we had to be in a couple of temporary places, with most of our stuff in storage, until the house we were building was completed, a period of six months. We had two cats and two old Golden Retrievers. One of the dogs died during our stay at the first place - she had obviously been sick for awhile and we thought it was the trauma of the move. Our other dog, except for his walk every day, hardly moved from his bed. The day we moved into our house with its familiar open plan and wood floors and all the familiar furniture, he left his bed and began to lie in the doorway to the porch, in other parts of the house and outside. He knew he was home!

    I wish this for the three of you very soon.

    Nancy Mc


Comments on posts older than 48 hours are moderated (for spam control) . Yours will be seen! Unless you are a troll. Serial trollers are banned.