2020 was my first Christmas spent alone. I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel so I decided to made a mini-feast. On the menu: homemade french onion soup made with a from scratch chicken/tomato bone broth stock and Comte cheese rather than Gruyere. The main course: Cornish Hen stuffed with sage and thyme with a tomato onion chutney and pomegranate, squash and bacon for the veggie. The wine: a 2014 Trimbach Reserve Pinot Gris. It should be noted that I rarely ever open a bottle when I am alone but with the effort that I put into the meal, Pellegrino just wasn’t the same.

Don’t feel sorry for me. It was in a phrase…


I spend most of my time alone so the idea of being away from family, especially my nieces, during a traditional time like Christmas, seemed daunting. However, like every new or unexpected experience, I made the best of it…spending the day with Frank…aka Old Blue Eyes and enjoying the prep time. The time taken to prep the meal would be almost as long as it took to cook it.

And so goes my favorite old adage.


The pleasure was in savoring each step, tasting each layer and making sure there was synchronicity. It should be said that I very rarely follow recipes. The joy of the process comes from the spontaneity of flavors and never knowing how they will mix together.

And yet somehow they do. The process is so intoxicating that it is so easy to become engrossed, mesmerized.


Yes, you have heard me say this so many times before. They are some of the truest words. The anticipation of where we know we will end up almost serves as a blind spot. We must have patience because each step, layer is there for a reason.

Let us not miss the significance of the joy of…everything and anything.

What I am listening to: Aerosmith “Sweet emotion”