the grind of three meals a day

I’ve really noticed a drop off in friendly waves. Walking in my neighborhood, people aren’t saying hello as much. I too hold back, especially if someone doesn’t make an effort to stay 6 feet away, and I don’t like this new withdrawal. I get it. Anxiety is real. Worry is real. I’m still going to try to offer a wave and not fall prey to my mental loop of concern. We’ve got to be in this together.


Are you having a hard time staying focused? I know I am. That’s why I’m on a poetry spree right now. I’m loving Ellen Bass‘s new collection, INDIGO. From her poem, “Enough”


Oh, blame life. That we just want more.
Summer rain. Mud. A cup of tea.
Our teeth, our eyes. A baby in a stroller.
Another spoonful of crème brûlée,
sweet burnt crust crackling.
And hot showers, oh lovely, lovely hot showers.

I’ve got Susan Leslie Moore’s Juniper Prize winning collection, THAT PLACE WHERE YOU OPENED YOUR HANDS up next. And of course, I always, always, always love me some Dorianne Laux. Check her collections, AWAKE, and THE BOOK OF MEN. Both are lovely. From her poem, “Lighter”


Steal something worthless, something small,
every once in a while. A lighter from the counter
at the 7-Eleven. Hold that darkness in your hand.
Look straight into the eyes of the clerk
As you slip it in your pocket, her blue
bruised eyes. Don’t justify it. Just take
your change, your cigarettes, and walk
out the door into the snow or hard rain,
sunlight bearing down, like a truck, on your back.
Call it luck when you don’t get caught.


A poem before lights out may be the perfect antidote to weird dreams, which we are all in the grip of, at least according to this NYTs article.


Speaking of poems, maybe you’d like to write some. I’ve got two books of poetry prompts for you. SLEEPING ON THE WING, by Kenneth Koch and Kate Farrell. The collection has poems, essays and prompts. I’ve used it for teaching in the schools, so those of you homeschooling may find it a good resource.

Another one, MY SHOUTED, SHATTERED, WHISPERING VOICE, by Patrice Vecchione. Her book is filled with many terrific, short prompts to get you writing. Here’s a good one if you want to write about something from your past (hey, memoir writers, when feeling stuck you may want to give this a go):


To write a poem about a particular time, you needn’t remember any more than you do. Poems may be built from fragments, assorted threads that, through writing, are woven into new cloth. Keep in mind that the poem will not be a replica of what happened, even if you’re writing about an event you recall in detail; it won’t mirror what occurred. …there is the event itself, what you thought about it at the time, and what you think about it now. The emphasis of importance may shift. You may notice what went unnoticed when the event took place. Perhaps what was in the background or a side story will be what interests you now. 
            If you choose to write about something that’s only a shadowy or partial memory, consider starting…with the words “I don’t remember.” If remembering is the right thing, what you need to know will likely return. 


Here’s one more prompt for you. Forgive me, I forget from whom I learned this one. Perhaps it was from the wonderful poet, Kelli Russell Agodon:  Recall the nicest thing ever said to you. Compose a poem about a rainy day and something flooding. End the poem with the compliment.


Ugh…this three meals a day is a grind. Remember last year when I was posting cake, cake and more cake? That was a good year. Guess what I’m going to do with my afternoon? Yup. Cake. This gorgeous recipe from NYTs cooking:

Orange Sour Cream Cake with Blueberry Compote

  • ½ cup sugar
  • ¾ teaspoon baking powder
  • ¼ teaspoon baking soda
  •  Grated rind of 1 orange
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 4 ½ ounces (9 tablespoons) butter, at room temperature
  • ½ cup sour cream
  • 3 large egg yolks
  • ½ teaspoon orange extract
  • ½ teaspoon vanilla extract
  •  Butter, softened, for cake pan


  • ¼ cup lemon juice
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch
  •  ¼ cup sugar
  • 4 cups fresh blueberries, I’M USING FROZEN, BECAUSE PANDEMIC!!
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  •  Pinch of salt
  1. Prepare the cake: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In bowl of a mixer with a paddle attachment, combine flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, orange rind and salt. Cut butter into small pieces and add to bowl. Mix at low speed until crumbly.
  2. Add 1/4 cup sour cream. Mix at medium speed until smooth and paste-like. Scrape bowl, and add remaining 1/4 cup sour cream and egg yolks. Beat at high speed for 1 minute. Scrape bowl, and add orange extract and vanilla extract. Beat at high speed until light and fluffy, about 1 more minute.
  3. Butter the bottom and sides of an 8-inch cake pan, and line the bottom with a piece of parchment paper cut to fit, butter the paper as well. Scrape batter into pan, and smooth with a spatula. Bake until top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in center of cake comes out clean, about 30 to 35 minutes. Remove from oven. Cool.
  4. Prepare compote: In a medium nonreactive saucepan combine lemon juice, cornstarch and sugar. Mix until smooth. Add blueberries, vanilla extract, and salt. Stir gently to mix. Place over medium-low heat, and simmer just until liquid thickens and blueberries darken in color. Remove from heat, and transfer to a bowl.
  5. To serve, remove cake from pan. Slice, and serve topped with blueberry compote.

I made a maple miso halibut the other night that was pretty tasty. You could spread the miso on tofu, chicken, salmon, roasted eggplant, cauliflower steaks, whatever your heart desires.

Maple Miso Spread:
2T maple syrup
4T white miso
2T rice vinegar
4t soy sauce
2 cloves of garlic, grated
Optional, a squeeze of sriracha or a ¼ t chili paste

Mix ingredients in a bowl or in a mini Cuisinart. Spread on fish, tofu, chicken, vegies and roast as you normally would. Delicious!




apart together


I don’t know about you, but I have not fallen to temptation, I’m still committed to pants each and every shelter-in-place day. I’m also committed to toast and butter, and these two things may turn out to be mutually exclusive. I guess the point is, we all try to find comfort during unsettling times. For me there’s comfort in the normalcy of pulling on jeans, and comfort in a piece of buttery toast, anytime of day. What’s comforting you?


I’ve got a pretty great TBR stack beside my bedside:

Nobody Will Tell You This But Me, by Bess Kalb. This memoir is about four generations of women in Kalb’s family. Her great grandma Rose, who fled pogroms in Belarus in the 1880’s. Her grandma Bobby, who is the ‘me’ in the title, telling the story of her life from beyond the grave. Bess’s mother who fought against conventions in the ’70’s. Finally Bess, who lives in LA, and writes for the Jimmie Kimmel show. Funny/Sad, my favorite combo. Read the NYTs review here.
I’m Supposed to Protect You From All This, by Nadja Spiegelman. This is a memoir of her mother’s family. (Her father’s family has been masterfully depicted by her father, Art Spiegelman, in his Pulitzer prize winning graphic memoir, Maus.) The Guardian says in its review of Nadja’s book, “Her subject appears to be the impossibility of feeling anger towards one’s mother, and the extent to which to do so would require a belief in potential change.” This is totally my jam and fascinates me. The Guardian also notes, “A remembered injury, however long in the past, can inhibit and wound its recipient seemingly out of all proportion.” When writing memoir, memory is our friend and foe. How deeply we cling to what we believe to be the truth, those opaque visitations from our past, define us and our relationships. I’m all in for any writer who chooses to explore this edge.

Finally, during this time of great uncertainty, like toast and butter, books can offer great comfort. Here’s a list that I find soothing:

Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne. Seriously, it’s a joy. If you’ve got no kids at home, read it over Facetime or Zoom to a young family member or friend. (Maybe don’t include this, Pooh and Piglet on social distancing.)

Emma, Jane Austin. I love how Emma navigates her world with humor, and maintains a capacity for personal growth, all within the tight social confines of an age.

Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl. Here’s a great clip of him talking about recognizing the spark, the desire, to make meaning in our lives.

A Lamp in the Darkness, Jack Kornfield, who says this (stick with me to the end): “If you can sit quietly after difficult news; if in financial downturns you remain perfectly calm, if you can see your neighbors travel to fantastic places without a twinge of jealousy; if you can happily eat whatever is put on your plate; if you can fall asleep after a day of running around without a drink or a pill; if you can always find contentment just where you are: you are probably a dog.”


Are you writing? Are you giving yourself the opportunity to be creative? Damn. I know it’s hard. I’ve been keeping up the Pomodoros and they’re a boon. I’ve spoken about them before, write for 45 minutes, stop to stretch/pee/nibble/grab a beverage for 15 minutes, then boom! Start again. I’m practicing with friends in a different city 2x per week. And I’m offering them to my students 2x per week. It really motivates me to know that other writers have their noses in the page at the same time I do. The 15 minute break is a great time to chat and feel connected. If you’re interested in participating with me, Monday and Wednesday, 3-5pm, send me a message and we’ll figure out how to make it happen.

If you aren’t working on a project, doodling around with an idea for a story, an essay, a novel, a poem, or an anything, that is just fine. Did you catch this quote from Lorrie Moore this week? When asked by the NYTs Book Review about living writers she admires, she said, “All of them. I also admire the ones who are taking a break and not working.”

Even if you’re not working, you can still write to connect with another human being. Why not write an email to a faraway pal you haven’t spoken to for some time? Send a card, a love note, a text. Children in my neighborhood are taping their drawings to the windows, a way of revealing the creative spirits in the house. My daughter is celebrating her wedding anniversary and I sent a homemade collage in lieu of a card, as I can’t get to the stationary store. Write a song, post it to your Instagram! If we take the time to throw out seeds of love, to write, to connect with each other, perhaps we can emerge from our homes, squinting like moles, into the bright light of stronger friendships.


I have been really amazed by the amount of kitchen waste our family produces. In an effort to cut that back, I made a chicken and stretched it to three meals.

  • Day one: Alison Roman’s Slow Roasted Chicken w/all the Garlic, served with green beans and polenta.
  • Day two: Chicken fajitas, our own version with red bell pepper, onions, garlic, shredded brussels sprouts, jarred salsa, cheddar cheese, chili flakes (we had no fresh jalapeño), stewed pinto beans (soaked and then simmered w/half an onion until tender), rice. (Leftovers provided lunch the next day.)
  • Day three: Soup! Meat stripped from the bones, bones thrown in a pot with a carrot and an onion and water to cover, gently simmer for a couple hours, strain. Meanwhile, I sautéed an onion, I peeled and cubed a butternut squash, julienned some chard, picked every last leaf of a bunch of parsley, sliced some wilted celery, diced the last half of a fennel bulb, opened a can of tomatoes, and found some thyme in the yard! Once all of that was sautéed in the soup pot, with salt and pepper, I poured in the stock, added a bit of water, the chicken meat and leftover rice from the fajita night. (You know it, leftovers for lunch.)

Because it’s sunny right this minute in Portland, and the tulips are trusting enough to poke up their heads, and I crave muffins, and I’ve got lemons, and this recipe for Lemon Poppyseed Muffins, shared by a pal, I will bake post haste, as soon as I get my hands on poppyseeds!




not alone. not today



Nervous? Confused? I feel you. I’ve written this newsletter three times in the last four days and I keep redoing it because, well, things change swiftly. I’ve gotten the horrible notification on my phone that my screen time has gone up–way, way up–since last week. I keep hitting refresh and my emotions run the gamut from freaked out to less freaked out. So, I’m jamming this newsletter with things to keep you busy, creative, and chill. And, here’s a short shelter-in-place soundtrack.



My attention span is about as long as my thumbnail. But, here’s what I’m thinking about reading:

1. Writers & Lovers, by Lily King. So far, I’m all in. The main character, a young writer, is struggling to build a creative life in the face of huge loss (the end of a relationship and the sudden death of her mother), as well as tremendous financial stress. I LOVED Euphoria, King’s last novel, so I’m excited about this one.

2. Tiny Habits, by BJ Fogg.  I heard Fogg on the Armchair Expert podcast and it was a great convo. Big takeaway, you can affect the changes you wish for in your life by shrinking your goals. One example, want to be more creative? Promise yourself 10 minutes of playing an instrument daily. Just 3 chords on a guitar. It’s creative. It’s fun. It’s low pressure. The vibration against your body, expressing yourself, it’s all good for you.

3. Charms for the Easy Life, by Kaye Gibbons. From the flap copy, the main character, “possesses powerful charms to ward off loneliness, despair, and the human misery that often beats a path to their door.” Huh, misery beating a path to our doors? Sounds like a book for our times!

4. In case reading is hard right now (due to that refresh button thing) here’s a podcast I enjoy: Conan O’Brian Needs a Friend. Particularly this episode, a special self-quarantine conversation. I was on a walk, laughing so hard, people looked at me as if I was insane.

5. If you need to buy books, please, please buy from small businesses. Many bookshops are waiving mailing costs, offering drive-thru pickup if you pre-order online. If you don’t have those options, check out this website: Bookshop where you’re able to shop online and credit your local independent bookseller at checkout. If you who don’t have a local independent bookseller, may I suggest Cloud and Leaf? Being isolated as they are, in tiny and adorable Manzanita, Oregon, they will struggle. The writer Deborah Reed, whose work you can see here, just bought the store! Let’s give her a leg up, no?

6. War and Peace anyone? These times may call for Tolstoy! Check out this massive virtual book group, Tolstoy Together. Run by the amazing writer, Yiyun Li, it’s bound to be elucidating, and the commitment is small, 30 minutes a day. Are you in?



1. Buddy up! I once heard the amazing writer Jo Ann Beard talk about how she and a friend would chat on the phone late at night. They’d drink a beer and give each other a prompt, hang up (smoke a cigarette which I cannot support) to write for twenty minutes. Then they’d call back and read what they’d written. I was SO JEALOUS. It sounded so great to have a writer pal to encourage you, to trust with your brand new, baby words. So, get to it! Here’s a prompt. Write about a tv show and what it meant in your life and why…Check Beard’s essay, Bonanza to see how rich the prompt can be!

2. Take an online writing class. StoryStudio in Chicago has a series called “Pajama Seminars” that looks terrific.

3. My new year’s resolution is to write a love letter each month. So far, so good. I’m 2 for 2. With many elders shut in and not allowed visitors during this covid-19 situation, here’s an opportunity for us all to write letters. Shine a little light. Write notes to seniors, addresses provided here: Timeslips: Postcards

4. One Story Magazine offers online classes and this one sounds terrific: Write a Great Beginning with the wonderful, Will Allison. Will’s an all-around good egg, and great editor. Give yourself this gift!

5. Hire me! I’m building my coaching/editing business. Need deadlines? Need support? Need a macro read of your manuscript, a micro line edit? Both? Let me know. I’m also putting together small Zoom workshops that have been a real joy for all involved. Hit me up! Simply reply to this email and we’ll talk.

6. Sometimes it’s hard to write. That’s okay. Might I suggest emerging yourself in the oeuvre of a particular filmmaker you admire. Pedro Almodóvar anyone? Perhaps start with Pain and Glory, which took my breath away. About a director who can no longer make art. It’s gorgeous. Maybe listen to this Antonio Banderas interview on Fresh Air. There’s some great writing advice buried in the interview. Listen for the moment when Banderas talks about ‘humid emotions,’ and how much more powerful it is to try not to cry, rather than to cry. While your at it, why not make this Paella! (Fewer ingredients as it may not be prudent to run to a bunch of different markets at this time.)



I’ve been cooking a ton. It’s a combination of nerves and necessity! Here’s recent winners:

1.  Creamy White Bean and Fennel Casserole, yes it’s behind the NYTs firewall, and because it’s so delicious and comforting, I’m including the recipe here. I served it up with garlic bread, a super lemony mixed green salad, and a glass of red wine.

  • 6 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 large fennel bulbs (about 2 pounds)
  • Kosher salt and black pepper
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced
  • 2 (14-ounce) cans white beans, such as cannellini, great Northern or navy
  • ½ cup heavy cream
  • 1 teaspoon fresh lemon zest plus 2 tablespoons juice (from 1 lemon)
  • ½ cup fine breadcrumbs
  • ½ packed cup finely grated Parmesan (about 1 ounce)

Heat the oven to 425 degrees. Trim the fennel. Cut it in half lengthwise and slice it crosswise, about 1/4-inch thick (reserve about 1/4 cup roughly chopped fennel fronds). Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large cast-iron skillet over medium. Add the sliced fennel, season with salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened but still retaining a little bite, about 12 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook until fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes.

Meanwhile, pour 1 can white beans and its liquid into a blender. Add the heavy cream, lemon juice and 2 tablespoons olive oil and purée until smooth. Drain and rinse the remaining can of beans and transfer it to the skillet along with the bean purée. Season generously with salt and pepper.

Mix the breadcrumbs with the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil in a small bowl. Add the Parmesan, lemon zest and 1/2 teaspoon pepper and toss to coat. Sprinkle evenly over the fennel-white bean mixture.

Bake until bubbly and lightly golden on top, about 15 minutes. Broil until topping is browned in spots, 1 to 2 minutes, if desired. Top with reserved fennel fronds and serve.

2.  Spicy Pork and Mustard Greens Soup from Alison Roman, my total chef crush! If you have NYTs cooking, check this version. It’s delicious. I added (you know it) mushrooms that I sliced and tossed with olive oil and salt, then roasted at 420 for about 15 minutes. I also added firm tofu, cubed, which I sautéed with the pork.

3.   West African Peanut Soup from Mark Bittman. Delicious. Double it, freeze half, just in case

4.  Chocolate Stout Cake @smitten kitchen. Look we all missed St. Pat’s day. We have next year, and we can still make this cake! Guinness is the way to go, says a student of mine who raves about this cake. I cannot wait!

5.  A Steak Marinade from my son, who has been sending me pictures of his food prep.



6.  Oh man, that is so much. I also have a great place to order knitting kits, if that’s your jam. Check out my facebook page and show me the face you’re going to make when Trump loses in November. Also, stay tuned, I’m going to try to learn to bake bread. Meanwhile I’m doing the best I can. I may send a mid-stream update with prompts and things to calm and sooth, like THIS.




all the world is green

Food blogs are calling it spring. Recipes burst with leeks and new potatoes. The SNL monologue promoted March as the “spring of winter.” Meanwhile, here in Portland, where grey skies continue to thrive, it’s annual tulip torture time—up they spring, stalwart, hopeful and bright, only to be battered and shredded by hail the size of cherry pits. Oh crap, oh well! I offer you 3 favorite songs of spring to get the mood going: All the World is GreenThey Say it’s SpringJoy Spring. (I had such a hard time choosing, so here’s my spring playlist.)



Three books queued on my nightstand:

1. For story and relationships: The Days of Abandonment, by Elena Ferrante which begins with this amazing paragraph:

One April afternoon, right after lunch, my husband announced that he wanted to leave me. He did it while we were clearing the table; the children were quarreling as usual in the next room, the dog was dreaming, growling beside the radiator. He told me that he was confused, that he was having terrible moments of weariness, of dissatisfaction, perhaps of cowardice.

2. For politics/immigration and new understanding: Everyone Knows you Go Home, by Natalia Sylvester. If you’d like more books to consider from Latinx writers, check out this great list.

3. For personal growth, also to aid and enrich my writing/coaching clients: Mindset, The New Psychology of Success, by Carol Dweck


Oh, and of course I await with great anticipation Emma Straub’s new novel, All Adults Here. When I read her books I feel as if I’m reading the words of someone who works at her desk effervescent and delighted, and I get a little hit of that! More please!



Do you ever struggle to find, not necessarily joy as that seems a tall order, but invigoration in your writing practice? I know I do, and what I’m learning is that I’m so much happier when I disconnect the act of writing from the outcome. I feel full, and I mean full in the best sense, a fullness that actually feels light—buoyant heart and vibrant brain—alive to possibilities on the page. Standing up from a session of that kind of work I feel, dare I say, effervescent and delighted? Even if I don’t always bridge the gap between what I want to say and what I’ve actually said, I’ve nudged the needle and there’s joy in that, right? Step by step.

So, I give you a very open ended prompt from Stewart O’Nan. (If you haven’t read, Last Night at the Lobsterstop what you’re doing and run to the bookstore. You’re welcome!)

Characters (whether fictional or those who populate our memoirs) must care about someone, and/or have desires, in order that we care about them. If characters care/desire deeply, readers will follow them anywhere. Consider this from Kurt Vonnegut: “Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.” And “Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.” We all yearn, we all care. Consider this prompt to get you thinking about your work-in- progress, or to fire up something new. And remember, areas of conflict and connection create sources of friction and possibility for writers.

  1. 5 people closest to me (can be dead, can be animals)
  2. My similarities w/each person
  3. My differences w/each person
  4. The most proud moment w/each person
  5. Most disappointing moment w/each person
  6. Thing you cannot say to the person
  7. What you wish this person better understood about you
  8. What you wish you could forgive them for
  9. What you wish they could forgive you for

Hopefully these questions will help kick open a door of understanding into what your characters (human beings!) endure all the time.



Apparently there’s a perpetual battle on the internet regarding the sometimes brief, sometimes rambling, recipe headnotes on food blogs. Here’s quote from a terrifically funny NYer spoof on crazy long recipe preambles:

I sense that you’re trying to scroll down to find the recipe without reading this preamble I was kind enough to write for you. Yes, I dabble in creative writing and must insist that you enjoy this incredibly detailed tangential anecdote about the muffins before I tell you how to make them.

Duly noted! I’m just going to dive into this bit of delicious I’ve been making lately, originally from Bon Appetit.

Broccoli & Garlic Ricotta Toasts w/Hot Honey

1 baguette, sliced ½” thick on a diagonal (roughly 6 slices)
6 T olive oil
1 head of broccoli, stems peeled, stem and florets chopped into ½” pieces
1 head of garlic, cloves separated/skin ON
Kosher salt
1 T honey
1 T white wine vinegar
½ t crushed red pepper flakes
1 ½ c fresh ricotta
Fresh ground black pepper

  1. Preheat oven to 400°F. Arrange bread slices in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet lined w/parchment and drizzle with 2 Tbsp. oil. Toss on baking sheet to coat, then arrange again in a single layer. Place broccoli and garlic on another rimmed and lined baking sheet and drizzle with remaining 4 Tbsp. oil. Season generously with salt and toss to combine.
  2. Place broccoli on top rack and bread on bottom rack and roast until bread is golden brown and crisp, 10–12 minutes. Remove bread from oven and continue to roast broccoli and garlic, tossing once, until broccoli is browned and garlic is tender. Perhaps 15–20 minutes more Let cool slightly.
  3. Whisk honey, vinegar, and red pepper flakes in a small bowl.
  4. As soon as garlic is cool enough to handle, squeeze cloves out of their skins and mash in another small bowl to form a paste. Add ricotta and mix well; season with salt and black pepper.
  5. Spread ricotta over toasts and top with roasted broccoli. Arrange on a platter and drizzle with honey mixture.
  6. Yum! And if you want a cocktail, may I recommend The Paperplane




brave every damn day!

On a day when the weather app showed no rain, we quick-fast drove to the Columbia River Gorge for a hike. This is what we call sunny in February in Portland. It hailed!

Here’s what else I’ve got for you.


I am so loving Ann Napolitano’s DEAR EDWARD. She’s a beautiful writer who imagines the inner life of a teenage boy, the sole survivor of an airplane crash in which he loses his entire family, as he tries to remake his life. The novel toggles between Edward’s life post-crash, and the events on the morning of the crash—boarding the plane, taking seats, the inner lives of many passengers, the flight attendant’s excellent maneuverings, what the passengers are leaving behind and hurtling toward. It is a lovely examination of our humanity, and what an engine drives this book! For even though we know the plane is going down, we’re compelled to turn pages and find out how everyone deals on their way out. I mean, isn’t that one of the major questions we live with? What amazing hopeful and brave creatures we humans are, knowing we’re going to die and yet getting up and often being happy as we face a day that brings us closer to the end! We’re amazing!

I’m also reading Don Waters’ THESE BOYS AND THEIR FATHERS. It’s an open hearted memoir of seeking. How do we form our identities independent of our birth families? Where do we find a reflection when our caregivers abandon and/or fail us? The book, with gorgeous sentences and heartbreaking honesty, blends memoir, fiction, and reportage to tell a story of discovery, masculinity and fatherhood.


In my memoir writing class we’ve been talking about shame. The conversation started with a quote from Jonathan Franzen in Best American Essays, 2016.

My main criterion in selecting this year’s essays was whether an author had taken a risk…the risk I feel most grateful to a writer for taking: shame.”

When I read this the first time I had an OUCH jolt! Franzen goes on:

As Arthur Miller once said,The best work that anybody ever writes is on the verge of embarrassing him, always.””

Miller calmed me down. Shame is such a loaded word. Where do you go if you feel shame, which isn’t rooted in empathy, it is not “I did a bad thing” it is “I am bad.” There’s no room for change. Guilt on the other hand is relational, one feels bad for how they made someone else feel, and that seems adaptive. (Thank you, Brene Brown!) Guilt holds up our regretful actions against who we hope to be. Doesn’t that sound like fodder for a good story?

In our writing we have to run straight into the hard things, moments we’d rather not talk about. Sugarcoating characters (and if you’re writing memoir, please know that you must see yourself as a character), denying them of dark thoughts and actions, robs them of their humanity. By showing, through scenic action, bad choices and behaviors, our own or those of our fictional characters, we let readers know that the world has room for their screw ups. And that my friends, is art.

Try this prompt if you dare! (adapted from Claire Dederer)

1. Write a list of 3 truths about yourself you’d rather not share. Secrets that make you inwardly cringe. Pick one that interests you.

2. Write about it for 7 minutes, as you would have in a diary with a little key that you hid between your mattress and box spring when you were in middle school. That’s to say, wallow and whine!

4. Make a list of times in your life when you wrestled with your secret. Pick one that interests you.

5. Write the scene! Be certain to include a specific time and place, characters, and sensory details.


I’m feeling a little bad about the brownies from the last newsletter. Don’t get me wrong, they’re delicious, but I’d like to contribute to your health.

And so, tofu! (Don’t run away!)  Ma-Po Tofu (adapted from NYTs cooking), simmered with a soupçon of pork is so good and so easy. Make it. Serve it in a bowl with some steamed rice and tuck in while you binge watch THE MORNING SHOW, which is not hard hitting, but easy to enjoy.

1 T peanut or other oil, plus more to coat veggies before you roast
1 T minced garlic
1 T minced ginger
¼ t crushed red pepper flakes, plus more to taste
¼ to ½ pound ground pork (optional)
1½ cups sliced shitake mushrooms (optional)
1 bunch broccolini (optional)
½ cup chopped scallions, green part only
½ cup stock or water
1 pound soft or silken tofu, cut in 1/2-inch cubes
2 tablespoons soy sauce
Salt to taste
Minced cilantro for garnish, optional

  1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Toss mushrooms with a bit of oil, salt and pepper them, and put them on a sheet pan lined with parchment.
  2. Wash and trim broccolini. Cut into down the length of each piece, creating similar size sections. Toss with a bit of oil, salt and pepper.
  3. Roast the vegetables in hot oven. Mushrooms for about 15 to 20 minutes, until they begin to brown. Broccolini for about 6 minutes until al dente. Remove and set aside.
  4. Meanwhile, put oil in a deep 10-inch skillet or wok, and turn heat to medium-high. A minute later, add garlic, ginger and red pepper flakes, and cook just until they begin to sizzle, less than a minute. Add pork, and stir to break it up; cook, stirring occasionally, until it loses most of its pink color.
  5. Add scallions, mushrooms and broccolini and stir; add stock. Cook for a minute or so, scraping bottom of pan with a wooden spoon if necessary to loosen any stuck bits of meat, then add tofu. Cook, stirring once or twice, until tofu is heated through, about 2 minutes.
  6. Stir in the soy sauce; taste, and add salt and red pepper flakes as necessary. Garnish with cilantro if you like, and serve over rice.



brownie points

What a week of struggle I’ve had. Ugh. I feel as if I need brownie points for getting out of bed in the morning! OR at least brownies. It doesn’t help that Portland is perpetually beneath a Dutch Oven lid (I’m talking Le Creuset heavy) of grey clouds. We get a tiny spot of blue, for 20 minutes, and I run outside. It reminds me of when my babies slept from 10p to 2a and I called it “through the night.” Here are a few things that have been getting me through the week, along with CBD gummies.


I listened to This American Life the other day while I baked myself a mood-boost cake, not to eat alone, but to share with neighbors. “The Show of Delights,” was the episode title. Yes, Please. It’s been a dark month. Some rejection. Some personal relations issues rising up. Super difficult to manage my perspective under a January sky. (Time to purchase a full spectrum light!)

The episode was its own full spectrum light and I was introduced to this gem of a book,THE BOOK OF DELIGHTS, by Ross Gay. The premise (from the flap copy) is that Gay spends a year writing lyric micro-essays about “the small joys we often overlook in our busy lives.” Essay subjects range from carrying a tomato seedling on a plane, to the use of air quotes, and one titled, “Babies. Seriously.” The photo on the jacket shows Mr. Gay brimming with delight. I wish I were sitting just beyond the frame, sharing in the laugh. Well, you know me, I bought three copies! One for me and two to send to my girlfriends. I want to start each morning with coffee and one of these shiny essays to set the tone. If you’re a student of mine, there’s a Delight assignment coming your way. Not just to make you sit up and notice, but selfishly meant for me to ride your coattails into a state of delight.

Here’s a snippet from “Nicknames,.” These sentences follow a list of nicknames friends have bestowed upon Gay.

I know that I rarely call the people I love by their names. I call them, if it is okay with them, by the name I have given them. I wonder if this means I think of my beloveds as children. That seems very patronizing. Especially because I mostly don’t give them money. But, on the other hand, how lovely all my mothers. All my babies.


I’ve been thinking a lot about sentences. The best are smooth and invisible and one reads as if swimming across a clear lake. There’s the sandy bottom, you can almost make out the vague shapes on the opposite shore, but there’s still room for surprise. Perhaps one gorgeous sentence will stand out, an image, a metaphor, not enough to pull you from the experience, but enough to enhance and give you pause. Of course these glorious sentences are reliant upon the sentences around them. Here are 3 examples randomly pulled from my shelves:

  • The grass in the yard smelled like hay. The birds and the locusts were silent. The entire neighborhood was silent Nothing moved. He could almost hear the roaring of the sun.
    MR. BRIDGE, Evan S. Connell
  • (A mother speaking of her son) At one time he’d fitted inside her like the meat of a walnut; now everything he did and thought and said was in perfect opposition to her.
    “The Little Heart,” from WHO DO YOU LOVE, by Jean Thompson
    (ps. this is a beautiful book of under-appreciated short stories)
  • Get away from my house! What are you doing in my yard? It’s as if a wounded Doberman pinscher or a German shepherd has gained the power of speech. And though you back up a few steps, you manage to tell her you have an appointment. CITIZEN, An American Lyric, Claudia Rankine

I read with a pen nearby so I can underline sentences I love, whether they offer up a quality of playfulness, a revelation of a universal truth, a vivid image, compression, or lovely language. A teacher of mine once told me that we should be able to stand on our sentences without them breaking. I like the slipperiness of that. What does it mean? I’m not completely certain, just that the sentence has to go somewhere, and remain stable. Sentences are how we pull stories from our heads, and how we pull readers into our work. Send me some of your favorites, honestly, I’d love to belong to a mutual appreciation society with you!


I’ve fallen in love with a sometimes food writer, mostly lifestyle essays about wide ranging topics from weird jeans, to eggplant emojis, to canned cocktails. Amanda Mull writes for The Atlantic and I love her sensibility. Check out these three (the limit for free articles on The Atlantic website): The Rise of Anxiety Baking and The New Trophies of Domesticity and I Broke Breakfast, which doesn’t espouse traditional backwards day eating—breakfast for dinner—but puts forth the revolutionary idea of dinner for breakfast, and begins thusly:

There’s no good reason you can’t eat a chicken-parmesan hoagie for breakfast. That’s what I decided last year when I woke up one morning, hungover and ravenous, craving the sandwich’s very specific combination of fried chicken cutlet, melted mozzarella, and tomato sauce.

To offer delight in the dead of winter, here is my go to, never fail, favorite brownie recipe, both for the outcome and the ease.

2 sticks (8 oz.) unsalted butter
4 oz. best quality unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 c. sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 c. whole wheat pastry flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 ½  c. chopped toasted pecans OR 1 pint of raspberries, washed and allowed to drain on a tea towel

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a 13 x 9 x 2 baking pan.

2. In a medium saucepan (just 1 pan!), heat the butter over moderately low heat until half melted. Add the chocolate and stir until the butter and chocolate are completely melted and combined. Remove from the heat and stir in the sugar with a wooden spoon until incorporated. (this part is a blast!)

3. Using the wooden spoon, beat in the eggs, one at a time, stirring after each addition until the eggs are fully incorporated. The mixture becomes super shiny, which is also a, ahem, delight.  Stir in vanilla. Add the flour and salt all at once and mix until blended. Stir in the chopped nuts or raspberries.

4. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 30 minutes, or until the brownies are slightly firm to the touch and a cake tester inserted in the center indicates the brownies are moist. Let cool completely in the pan. Cut into bars that suit your needs! 6 giant brownies (no judgement) or 35 mini nibbles.




die of the past or become an artist

How’s January treating you? It’s pretty dreary here in Portland. Aside from a little karaoke joy on my birthday, I’ve got my scarf wrapped tight around my neck, my head is down, and I’m bucking the wind. Here’s what I’ve got for you.


I know I’ve spoken about audiobooks and rereading books you love, well, I’ve outdone myself. I love, I lerve, I’m so smitten with Deborah Levy‘s book, The Cost of Living, that I listened to the audiobook, then immediately I listened again, went out and bought the book, read it through and underlined…well an embarrassing number of paragraphs. I have a girl-crush on this book. It speaks to me as a writer, as a women, a mother and a daughter.
Levy’s memoir focuses not upon her entire life, but on a specific period of time in her life, when she was surviving the break-up of her twenty + year marriage, establishing a new home for herself and her daughters, stepping into the harness of single motherhood, and enduring the death of her own mother. In other words, she was in the midst of living–yes, through a transitional and particularly grueling time. Life is like that, foisting change upon our days. I’m so grateful that we get to go along with Levy. She says:

 I became physically strong at fifty, just as my bones were supposed to be losing their strength. I had energy because I had no choice but to have energy. I had to write to support my children and I had to do all the heavy lifting. Freedom is never free. Anyone who has struggled to be free knows how much it costs. 

We either die of the past or we become an artist.


I wait. And wait. And wait. It’s so hard to spend years writing a book, only to languish for months, perpetually checking email. Will the outside world deem your work worthwhile? I’ve distracted myself with travel, with family celebrations during the holidays, I helped my mother celebrate her eightieth birthday, had my own birthday, and took a writing hiatus. Now chilly, dreary January has me in a steel trap and I was about to chew off my own leg (ew). Last week I started writing something and am now in the blush of new love, working on a memoir (inspired by Deborah Levy to be sure) and also by messing around with a few prompts. Check these out and see if they take you somewhere interesting.

Three quick prompts:

1. Write three 250 word pieces from your childhood–each from a different age range: 0-6, 7-12, 13-18. Choose a moment attached to a disquieting emotion and describe that moment with as much sensory information as much as possible.

2. Write a 500 word scene in which you came to an understanding that continues to be important to you today. Be sure to include setting (time/place), believable characters, dialogue, a symbolic object (your sister’s tap shoes? Your mother’s hairbrush? The dog’s bed?) or action, and a shift, a change in the situation, a noticeable arc.

3. In 500 words tell a story your family tells about itself. Share family lore.

Of course these three prompts ask you to plumb your personal life, but there is nothing to stop you from giving the results to a character in your story or novel. Perhaps you’ll come up with some flash fiction?  Have fun. Commit to time at your desk. Try to enforce the rule of prompts: No judgment. No attachment to outcome.

Need a great, comfy as an old sweater, book on writing memoir? Try out, Thinking About Memoir, by Abigail Thomas. And while you’re at it, snap up all her books, she’s a gem.


All hail Alison Roman! Do you follow her recipes at NYTs cooking? Do you follow her on Instagram? She has two terrific cookbooks, Dining In, and her latest, Nothing Fancy. I received the second one as a birthday gift and I am all in. Reading her recipes feels as if you’re talking to a good friend about how to eat, how to cook, and how to entertain. The premise of Nothing Fancy is that we all should chill, forget fussy dinner parties, and just have friends over. Her zeitgeist is basically this: making an unfussy meal for friends is an excellent way to say I love you. Right?
I’m planning on having people over. I’m planning on cooking my way through the book. Last night, okay, it was a Monday so I didn’t have guests, but I made her Celery and Fennel with Walnuts and Blue Cheese and I wish I tripled it. So crunchy, easy, lemony and delicious. It’s the perfect antidote for winter. I’m typing it out here because I love you.

½ c toasted walnuts
Kosher salt and pepper to taste
4 celery stalks, with leaves, thinly sliced on an angle
1 large fennel bulb, trimmed and thinly sliced
½ small shallot, thinly sliced
2 Tbs fresh lemon juice (Meyer if possible) plus more as needed
¼ c good olive oil, plus more as needed for drizzling
1½ ounces blue cheese, perhaps a mild stilton, crumbled

1. Toss walnuts w/a bit of olive oil so they are nicely coated, season w/salt and pepper and set aside.

2. toss celery stalks (save leaves for garnish), fennel, shallot, and lemon juice in a large bowl; season with salt and pepper. Drizzle with olive oil and season w/enough additional lemon to make very tangy.

3. Transfer to a large serving platter and top with walnuts, cheese, celery leaves and another drizzle of olive oil, plus plenty of pepper.

Do yourself a favor, head over to her website and check out her posted recipes. Crab toast w/yogurtSpring Vegetable Risotto w/Poached eggs (yes, spring will come!), or how about Banana Chocolate Chip Cake w/Peanut Butter Frosting? Her food is fun, not fussy. I don’t know, ‘fun not fussy’ seems like a good resolution.

love letters

Wow. Here we are in a new decade and everything old feels new again. The world is troubled. We all want to live happier lives. We rise on January 1st (well, maybe January 2nd ) with bright eyes and an impulse to be more authentically ourselves, to embrace joy, and then, wham, bombs, threats, and bloviators take over the news cycle. Please. Let’s continue with the plan. Embrace your authentic self, whatever that looks like. If it means running for office, if it means taking music lessons for the first time, if it means going back to school to get a degree, if it means dancing in your kitchen and making room for laughter, if it means dedicating time and resources to your favorite candidate, I applaud you!


I failed. Yet again. Each year I strive to read 52 books and for the second year in a row, I only read into the 40s, a solid B. Oh well. I made the same pledge to myself for 2020 and if I don’t make it again, I will have watched some great shows or listened to some funny podcasts. (Just today I embarrassingly laughed aloud, and I mean LOUD,  all the way through the grocery story while listening to Conan O’Brien and Al Franken chitchat.)

Here’s what I’m excited to read:

Yellow House, by Sarah M. Broom, a memoir about place as much as it is about people, which won the 2019 National Book Award for nonfiction. I’ve never been to New Orleans. Maybe this memoir will help me understand wider aspects of the city. Broom says in the book, “Much of what is great and praised about the city comes at the expense of its native black people, who are, more often than not, underemployed, underpaid, sometimes suffocated by the mythology that hides the city’s dysfunction and hopelessness.” Yellow House has received accolades from nearly everyone, here’s what the NYTs had to say.

The Days of Abandonment, by Elena Ferrante. I LOVE her work. I read about this book on Elisa Gabbert’s list, which is fantastic and you can find it here. Gabbert says her mouth was, “hanging open” as she read the entire second half.  That to me is the best recommendation ever.

Eve’s Hollywood, by Eve Babitz, which was described by Dwight Garner in the NYTs as a, “potent cocktail of a book.” This fits the bill for my 2020 desires, no not to imbibe, but to laugh and enjoy.

Drop me a line and let me know what you’re looking forward to reading. I need to reach my goal!


I’ve not been writing much since I finished my manuscript. Yes, I have ideas circling in my mind like raptors but I’ve not really committed much to the page. I don’t recommend this. It’s a great idea to keep writing, start something new, remain busy so you aren’t as wed to the outcome of the reception of your manuscript…with agents, with editors, with the world.

What I’m very interested in writing is fan mail. Last year, the editor Susan Kamil died and the NYTs published a love letter from Ruth Reichl. I was so moved reading this, I thought, wouldn’t Kamil have loved reading the emotional and lovely tribute while she was still alive? I’m certain we all could write so many love letters right now, to people breathing and eating and walking upright! Why shouldn’t they know the beauty and value they bring to our lives?

Last year I resolved to make a cake a month, to bring sweetness to my life. Cakes are fun, right? This year, I resolve to write a love letter a month, to bring sweetness to someone else’s life. How about you? Who can you tell that they’ve brightened your life?


As I write this note, I am eating dinner alone for the first time since mid-November. Oh my god! It makes me so happy. I love my husband. I love my friends. And I’m delighted to have this night. I’m surprised by what I cooked for myself, New York steak, (I know, I know, but really I don’t eat much meat, I had a craving, I’m sorry) with sautéed shitake mushrooms, roasted acorn squash with chimichurri, delicious red wine, and sourdough bread with Irish butter. It’s so indulgent and fantastic. The only thing missing from the meal, for a total cholesterol assault, is a slice of cheesecake, which I baked (see my attempt here and trust me, it was prettier in real life) for the final installment of my 2019 cake-a-month pledge.

Smitten Kitchen has a fantastic New York Cheesecake recipe, which I thoroughly recommend… with caveats. Watch it like a hawk during the first 12 minutes with the insane inferno oven temperature of 550 degrees. At the slightest hint of browning, turn the oven to 200 degrees and open the door a crack to release some heat. Instead of the cherry topping, I made a compote of grapefruit, Cara Cara oranges, and pomegranate. It was, and I won’t be shy about it, amazing, the pièce de résistance of the whole cake-a-month delight.

a painter and a writer walk into a bar

I write to you from sunny Spain where we’ve been eating, swimming, strolling, and sipping our way through the end of 2019! When I get home I plan on starting a new holiday tradition, paella for Christmas. What a way to share one big pan of homemade love with our people. I hope the last month of the decade brings you joy!


I’ve been thoroughly enjoying T Kira Madden’s, Tribe of Fatherless Girls. There are loads of reasons to tout this memoir: beautiful sentences, at times harrowing narrative, interesting shape and structure, Madden’s use of time, the surprises along the way, her grit. Many of the chapters can stand alone, and one in particular, “Can I Pet Your Back,” I found very moving. It’s use of repetition reminded me of Jamaica Kincaid’s flash fiction, Girl,” and Rick Moody’s short story, “Boys.” The repeated phrase, “I found pretty,” is deeply sad and powerful, exploring the loss of self to suit a toxic worldview of womanhood. Here, finding pretty involves a complete erasure of individuality to fit the bleached teeth, dumbed down, tanning beds, dyed hair, permed eyelashes, G-strings, anorexia, back seat blow jobs for a ride to the mall, expectations of girlhood.

Because we’ve been so close to Madden prior to her finding pretty, the losses tangled up in her “discovery” are more profound. Consider this early moment, when fishing for trout with her mom as a young girl. They catch and release and she has a singular and specific view of the world.

“I wrestled with the hook to free it; I was in a hurry. Easy like this, said my mother, and she did it in one motion, a popping sound…I tossed the fish back into the mud of the pond, and the two of us watched it shoot off like a single strand of tinsel in the sun before it disappeared.
What I mean to say is, it lived.”

Living, in Madden’s world, is slippery, no easy feat, and a glittering thing to be celebrated.


Sometimes not writing is the best way to write. In Madrid, I spent a good bit of time at the Reina Sofia museum. It is huge. A labyrinth. Of course there is Picasso’s Guernica to see, which we did, and what we also found incredibly inspiring was the temporary exhibit by Ceija Stojka, “This Has Happened.” The show is a series of paintings that tells the story of her Lovara Gypsy family, Hungarian horse dealers who had settled in Austria. The first paintings in the series are bucolic, the paint joyfully applied in a way that invokes a happy childhood. Lots of color and flowers, caravans, chickens, horses, the cycles of nature. The next paintings deal with the Nazis discriminating against the Gypsies, whose movements were restricted, her father was taken to Dachau, later she and her mother were taken away as well. The colors change in these paintings, the flowers are replaced with recurring frightened eyes crouching in brambles. Canvases are filled with dark, abrupt slashes of paint, and coiling barbed wire. There is a motif of crows, as both harbinger of evil, and a message of hope, for the crows can fly over the fences into freedom. Studying how Stojka applied paint, changed her hues and perspective, her use of repetitions and motifs, was relevant to writing, for all are tools at the disposal of the memoirist, the novelist, the short story writer, the poet.

Another great way to write is to give yourself the gift of time. I will be participating in and guest teaching at a spirit boosting retreat with my friend, Jen Louden. If you need time to hang out with 20 or so fabulous women, if you want to dance to funny and fun playlists in the morning, write in the afternoon, participate in inspired talks, get in touch with what may be holding you back in your work, spend time in beautiful Taos, eat delicious food, move ahead in your current writing project or discover what’s next, this is a wonderful, restful, replenishing experience.  Check it here: Jen Louden.

And, if you want to get an idea of what Jen is about, I loved this recent blog post from her about self recrimination, merciless expectations, and forgiveness during the potential shit-show of the holidays.


I’ve bought so many little packets of saffron for gifts my entire suitcase is redolent. My socks reek! Please stay tuned for some rice/paella news in the future, but for now, I’ve got this perfect nibble for a cocktail soirée.

Before Spain, we spent a couple nights in NYC. I grabbed a quick lunch with one of my all time favorite students/friends at one of my favorite over-priced restaurants, ABC Kitchen.  There are quite a few recipes from ABC Kitchen up at NYT’s cooking that I make again and again. Amy and I shared three: roasted carrots with avocado, micro-greens and crème fraiche, the winter squash toast, which is a fantastic dish, and the kale salad with perfect tiny croutons and jalapeños. All of it delicious.
If I’ve already shared my version of the Squash Toast with you, forgive me, I’m doing it again. Yes, it is that good.

One 3-pound butternut or kabosha squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1/2-inch cubes (you can place in a 250 degree oven for about 15 minutes to soften the squash enough to cut, otherwise it’s a struggle!)
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided, plus more for drizzling
1/2 teaspoon dried chile flakes, more to taste
Kosher salt, to taste
1 yellow onion, peeled, halved, and thinly sliced
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup maple syrup
Bruschetta/toasted baguette slices (why not buy them pre-made and save yourself a little work? 😉)
1 cup ricotta
Flaky salt, for finishing
1/4 cup chopped mint
Pomegranate seeds

  • Dump the squash onto a heavy sheet pan and toss with a 1/4 cup of olive oil, the chile flakes, and a generous pinch of salt.  Roast the squash at 425° F until tender, about 20 minutes.
  •  While the squash is cooking, make the onion jam: In a small saucepan, heat the remaining 1/4 cup of oil over medium heat, and add the onions, stirring, and cook until they begin to soften and darken, about 15 minutes. Add the vinegar and syrup, and reduce until everything is jammy. Depending on the surface area of your pan, this could take as little as 15 minutes or as long as 30. When it looks as though it’s ready to be spread on toast and it tastes tart-sweet, it’s ready.
  •  Add the onion mixture to the cooked squash, stirring gently so as to preserve a few chunks of squash. Taste, and season with salt or more chile if needed — the mixture should have a nice heat.
  •  Spread a layer of ricotta on the bruschetta, and then the same amount of the squash-onion mixture. Sprinkle with a bit of flaky salt, then scatter the chopped mint and pomegranate seeds on top.

in which I lounge

We’ve rounded the corner into November. Last Sunday we received our extra hour, which is my favorite morning of the entire year. That ‘falling back’ hour assuages my work-ethic addled mind. It’s a gift! A free hour in which I lounge. Soon, there will be a plethora of great movie choices in theaters. It’s chilly enough to tuck into my favorite mac & cheese recipe, the fire is going, and Manhattan makings are fully stocked. Here’s some ideas to cozy up.


Do you ever reread a favorite book? Oh my gosh, as I’m writing these sentences I am filled with eager anticipation to dive in…

Howards End, by EM Forster, is a favorite of mine. I can’t wait to meet up once more with the Wilcoxes, and the Basts—oh dear…Leonard with his plot-driving stolen umbrella, Jacky, whose fortunes are chained to men’s perceptions of her and the limited choices society lays at her feet. The Schlegel sisters! Upright Margaret, and Helen, the beating heart of the book, who says of Mr. Wilcox, he “says the most horrid things about women’s suffrage so nicely.”

This novel of class and culture feels incredibly à la mode, so appropriate to read on the eve of our election. Pretending class isn’t an issue in the United States had much to do with the outcome of the 2016 election. Forster’s insights into socioeconomics, class, and the belief systems that trap us definitely illuminates politics in our place and time. Henry Wilcox, who behaves as if he is above reproach, says at one point, “The poor are poor. One is sorry for them, but there it is.”

If you do choose to pick up the book, you have three delightful spur trails to follow. First, I highly recommend the Merchant Ivory film with Emma Thompson, Helena Bonham Carter, and Anthony Hopkins, which is available on Netflix. Next, you can read Zadie Smith’s fantastic novel, On Beauty, which is a retelling of Howards End, set in a genteel Massachusetts college town. And finally, you can watch Kenneth Lonergan’s mini-series which is streaming on Amazon (I know…).


It’s NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. Anybody participating? I’m not, though I do always toy with the crazy notion of writing a novel in a month. Just to loosen up, right? To unhook from the idea that you have to write beautiful sentences from the get go. I was perusing the site the other day and they gave the terrific idea of changing the color of the font on your laptop to white, that way you can’t look back over your sentences. Give yourself a word count goal, and just keep your eye on the accruing words. You can fix it on the next round through.

The NYTs had a little lead up article recently, giving good ideas and resources for your writing project, one of which was this link to NaNoWriMo Prep. There are some great templates for ways to spark ideas, develop characters, think about setting, support your writing hygiene (like sleep hygiene, which is a thing) and generally get going.

The most apt metaphor for me in search of a new project? My sweet little blind dog, Leo. Like him, I run into walls, walk the perimeter of the room seeking my water bowl, sit an inch away from the dishwasher, curious about the sound and the warmth. This seeking is my least favorite part of writing. Once I’ve latched onto a character, a problem and a yearning, I’m better.
How about you? Any generative tips you can share with me?


I mentioned it’s been chilly. I mentioned Manhattans, with their particular icy, elegant bite. And now I’m giving you my favorite new recipe for some cheesy, gooey delight. I’ve adapted this from a New York Times recipe.

Natalie’s Almost Healthy Mac & Cheese

Kosher salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for greasing the pan
2 pounds yellow or Vidalia onions, peeled, halved and thinly sliced
1 med size kabocha squash, pre-baked whole at 325° for about 15 minutes, just to make it possible to peel and cut ½ inch cubes
2 Tbs olive oil
1 bunch Lacinato kale, washed, striped from spines and juilliened
5 sprigs fresh thyme, plus more thyme leaves for garnish
Black pepper
1 pound fuselli pasta
½ baguette, cut into 1/2-inch slices (I used bruschetta which I bought, pre-made, at the grocery store.)
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar, red wine vinegar or white wine vinegar
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
4 cups whole milk
12 ounces Gruyère, grated (about 5 cups)
12 ounces white Cheddar, grated (about 4 cups)

  1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Butter 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Preheat oven to 450°.
  2. In a deep skillet, melt 2 tablespoons butter over medium heat. Add the onions, thyme sprigs, and season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until deep golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes. If the onions look dry, add a few tablespoons of water at a time to prevent from burning, scrape up browned bits stuck to the bottom of the skillet.
  3. Meanwhile, toss squash cubes in olive oil, salt, and spread out on a sheet pan. Bake for roughly 25 minutes, checking at about 20 minutes. You want them to be VERY tender. ALSO, cook the pasta till two minutes under cooking time. You want it just under al dente. Drain and set aside.
  4. When the onions are a deep golden brown, discard the thyme sprigs and add the kale. Stir until the kale is wilted and deep green/black. Remove to a LARGE bowl.
  5. Deglaze the skillet with the vinegar until evaporated, scraping up browned bits as you go. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter. Once melted, add the flour and cook, stirring, until the flour begins to stick to the bottom of the pan and has turned a light golden brown, about 3 minutes. Slowly whisk in the milk and season with salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer, whisking often. The bechamel should thicken slightly, just so it coats the back of a spoon. Stir in all but one cup of the cheeses. Mix till melted and delightfully gooey.
  6. Add cheese mixture to the onions and kale. Add the squash cubes, which should be tender enough to fall apart, add the pasta and stir, stir, stir.
  7. Pour into prepared pan, top with baguette slices and sprinkle with the reserved cheese. Season with pepper and back, on a sheet pan to catch bubbly overflow, for 10 to 15 minutes.