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Many people dread the coming of winter, the solstice, the shortening of days. In some ways, I crave winter. It’s my time to hibernate; to stay indoors unapologetically, to go to bed early and be awakened by a tip-toeing 3-year-old.

We were at the lake for the last two weeks and I steadily worked on my nesting PhD. So much so, that when Rodney arrived several days after us, he was shocked to find out that we’d barely set foot outside. The kids were happy, I was happy. We LEGOed, puzzled, cooked and watched nightly movies. Caught up on the classics: The STAR WARS trilogy and Back to the Future; The Parent Trap and Polyanna. We prepared for Christmas – the kids’ grandparents came to visit. We continued our nesting in full force: we ate; we traveled the globe one cocktail at a time: Manhattans, white Russians, apple cider Dark ‘n stormies.

It was the rest that I needed. The rest that we all needed. Unharried and unscheduled.

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There was a time, only a few months ago, when shakshuka wasn’t part of my cooking rotation.

I’d come across these eggs, baked with Moroccan or Tunisian ingredients – usually a mix of tomatoes, chili peppers, and onions, and sometimes with some additional spice (e.g. harissa) and/or cheese (e.g. feta). Smitten Kitchen has a version, the New York Times has one too, David Lebovitz – well, of course, he’s based in Paris, a city that thrives on North African food. The Italians even have a version, called “Eggs in Purgatory”. Shakshuka is – as my 102-year-old grandmother would say – all the rage. Check out Feed Feed where your search for shakshuka will deliver nearly 200 results. That’s a lot of spicy eggs.

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Once you’ve made shakshuka – or any kind of spicy baked egg dish, you’ll see why it’s become so popular.

1. It’s super simple, taking only minutes to cook…just a little more tim than it would take to remove the dreaded Eggo from the freezer, pop it into the toaster, and be doused in maple syrup.

2. It’s endlessly adaptable….this version of shakshuka has barely any tomato – and virtually no sauce. The eggs are cooked in a bed of onion and green pepper, and then topped with whatever ingredients I had available in the fridge. Add this dish to the arsenal of fridge dumping meals that includes fried rice and vegetarian lasagna. And don’t we all need a few more fridge dumping meals in our lives? Your wilting vegetables would clearly prefer a spicy shakshuka fate than a trip to the garbage can.

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It’s December 29, just a few short days before New Year’s Eve. I’m spent from this holiday. In a good way…but suffering from that specific type of exhaustion that comes from raising young kids.

Today was more of the usual: we made breakfast, we cleaned. I cleaned. We got dressed for skiing. We drove to the ski resort where the green Magic Carpet still isn’t open. I walked their skis up the bunny hill. I chased them down. I yelled “pizza not French fries! Don’t forget the pizza!” They prefer French fries. Skis railroaded, out of control, heading towards netting, SLOW signs and other beginners. Nobody was injured, at least not today.

I drove back home. They took naps while I dreamt that one day, I might be able to take one of those again.

I went grocery shopping. We made sandwiches for dinner. Sam no longer likes avocado. Emma no longer likes crusts. Fortunately she doesn’t ask me to cut them. She just rips them off her sandwich and scatters them onto the floor. Crusts no longer interest Jackson either. He sits and waits for the high-ticket items: the dropped turkey slice; the leftover cheese.

And me? I’m biding my time until 8:30PM when I can give the kids a nuzzle, tuck them in, fix myself a warm milk & Bailey’s and relax in bed with a good read. I have so many photos to share from the holidays, but I’m saving them until next week. Next week, life gets back on track, work resumes, the kids are back at school, and I can ease myself back into the business of blogging. With some exciting new directions for this space, so stay tuned.

Until then, I wanted to share with you some images that I took a few weeks ago at the launch party for the new Cooper Hewitt Museum in New York. I was covering social media that evening for Tarallucci e Vino, the museum’s new restaurant, so the images are iphone only, but still give a sense for the space. The new Cooper Hewitt Museum is housed in the old Carnegie mansion, built in 1899. The juxtaposition of old and new design is omnipresent, and highlighted by the modern Tarallucci e Vino café, which sits on the ground floor of the Museum.

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I’m on a one-woman mission to save the rutabaga.

Which, according to my research today, is also called a “Swede” in Europe. I was in the midst of making a Scotch broth soup with my leftover holiday lamb and Jamie Oliver advised that I should chop up a Swede and throw it into the pot along with my vegetables.

Perhaps a soup for Jeffrey Dahmer, but I vow to keep my soups human-free. Let’s refer to rutabaga using its North American lingo. And to complicate things with one more rule, let’s avoid the common Southern pronunciation “ruda-beggers” which is even more worrisome than “Swede”.

If you’re A) from Europe or B) from the South and would like return the linguistic praise, feel free. I’m Canadian and come pre-packaged with a hot mess of language issues. I call the garbage disposal a “garberator”, pronounce basil with a soft “a” and if you steal my two-four, there might be a kerfuffle, but I can be easily repaid in peameal bacon. If it dribbles I’ll just wipe my face with a serviette.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s talk soup.

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You may recall that I introduced rutabaga to my kids as part of our mystery food challenge. One of the interesting observations was that rutabaga smells and tastes a little like broccoli. Lauren mentioned it first, and I guffawed but then brought the object right under my nose, and sure enough, the essence of broccoli itself.

I had visited the farmer’s market last weekend and bought two more rutabagas. Broccoli is a favorite in our house, making rutabagas appealing by proxy. They’re easy to prep- just peel off the skin and dice them for a stove-top simmer or a long, slow roast.

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‘Tis the time of year for baking, snuggling, Christmas-cake-eating, roaring-fire-making-and-setting-off-the-fire-alarming, and general hunkering, not otherwise specified. Which means logging off the computer for as much time as I can muster…Hope everyone is likewise enjoying the holiday season!

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