Two feet of snow, which in Japan is called yuki, and still it’s falling relentlessly, remorselessly, and with laser-like focus. (Have you ever seen remorseful snow? Not a pretty sight. No, by no means, no.) Out in the park, ’round 8 A.M., with the two dogs, who were like dirty clothes in the rinse cycle, tossing and turning and made mad by the depth of the yuki (both inu are learning Japanese): They could scarcely move–the white was like nature’s straightjacket.
Returning from the park, I single-handedly dug out the steps, the small front walk, and the sidewalk in front of the house. I put shovel to yuki in the driveway and had an epiphany: Time to go inside and squeeze blood oranges, fry Father’s Kentucky bacon, and make French toast with Challah from Hi-Rise doused with maple syrup, dark and unctuous and flavorful Grade “B” (better than “A”), from Vermont.
Suddenly a message: Back of the House is still at #1 in Kindle Professional Cooking, #4 in Kindle Gastronomy, and #14 in Books Professional Cooking.
An interview with the wonderful Mary Jones in Connecticut yesterday may have added to the numbers. She was like the next door neighbor of my youth: Chipper! Her two callers were fun, too. The first person wanted to say that “Moet” should be pronounced with the “T,” with which I have no issues, being grown up and all, and speaking only enough French to avoid arrest.
Although French or no French, had it been the Rafle du Vélodrome d’Hiver, I’d have boarded that train. Woo-hoo, all aboard.
The second caller was drunk. 4:30 and slurred speech! Had she been drinking Moet or Gilbey’s?
The snow, it beckons, like a wraith…