I’m back! I know it was just a few days ago that I was saying goodbye until after the holidays, feeling like I couldn’t see the light at the Tunnel of Kitchen Despair, but the clouds have parted and HERE I AM. Look at all that fuss I made! (Oh god, please let the Tunnel be behind me.)
And I didn’t want to wait for this any longer, because (for some reason that always escapes me) the nog window is open for only so much longer, and I don’t want it to pass you by.
If you’ve been patiently reading all those posts about travel and what I’ve eaten, you may have noticed that back in September I mentioned a drink that I was close to saying was the best cocktail I’ve ever had. And I even promised a recipe, once I was able to recreate it well enough at home.
Well, here you go.
I fell in love with blood oranges my first year of graduate school. Almost every Saturday morning that year we trekked to Santa Monica to splurge on produce at the farmers market – top-quality, top-price produce to distract myself from how much work I had to do and how terrified I was on a weekly, daily, hourly basis. Blood oranges were unique enough for me to fancy myself something more than a poor, lowly, graduate student with little other than my undergraduate loans to my name, and bitter and tart enough enough to wake me up a bit each time I had one. Eating a couple every day gave me little shocks to the system that kept me going through endless site visits and mapping exercises and paper writing and group projects.