This past Christmas season I had the intention of doing quite a bit of baking–most of it to share. However, it turned out to be one of those things I didn’t get to and I have some naval oranges in my fridge that are looking at me in rebuke. Yeah, those oranges, man, they hold a grudge! 😉 Anyway, I just went looking for the recipe. It was in a Norwegian cookbook that I borrowed from the library in one of their promotions. It’s gone. The library never owned it. And, frankly, it wasn’t good enough for me to recommend they own it. There was the matter of the nutty orange cake though. But you know what? The interwebz is filled with nutty orange cake recipes and I’m going to make one of those instead.
That’s quite a lead in for my first poem of the new year, isn’t it? Thank you to Sarah and all the folks at dVerse.
I whirled, whirled, twirled a dervish would be jealous but no iced sugar cookies baked no tres leches stewed in a myriad of milks and rum no spicy, walnutty pumpkin pie cooled. Holidays came and went as they do as an adult magic ebbing from unmatched memories. Ingredients for the orange walnut cake remain, whispering: “bake me now on this cool gray day. Fill the house with happy new scents.” And I have no response except: Why not?