Jammy egg experiments

If you’ve read my newsletter, you’ve heard me talk about Jenny Rosenstrach, she of Dinner: A Love Story fame and creator of my beloved granola recipe. (Her Three Things newsletter helped save my sanity during the first two years of the pandemic.) She’s wise, witty and practical, three things (heh) I admire in a cook and a human being. And her seven-minute egg trick is saving my life these days.

Jenny’s been saying for years that an egg makes it dinner: to wit, that topping many things with a seven-minute egg (i.e., hard-boiled with a jammy center) turns them from a side dish into protein-enough-to-satisfy. After several months of experimenting, I am here to report that it is true, and also to say: I’ve been rather delighting in the odd little variations of said eggs.

Once or twice a week, I fill a pot halfway with water, bring it to a boil and lower in two eggs with a slotted spoon. (I’ve learned that dropping them in, however gently, causes at least one hairline crack, which makes for odd ruffly trails of egg in the water – though they’re still edible.)

Jenny insists that seven minutes – not a second more or less – is the perfect time, but I usually set my timer for 6:50, to account for a few seconds on either end. She recommends an ice bath, which I’ve learned is important (to help them set afterward; they peel much more easily after two or three minutes in cold water). I crack the eggs, peel the shells into the compost bin and plop the eggs on top of a bowl of quinoa and veggies (usually spinach, but I like bell peppers for this, too).

I’m amazed, over and over, by two things: how reliably delicious this is, and the minute variations depending on when I take the eggs out, how long I leave them in the ice bath, maybe even the ambient temperature that day. Sometimes they’re jammy, sometimes runny, sometimes properly hard-boiled. It’s like a tiny science experiment in my kitchen, and it is – thank goodness – a new reliable dinner staple.

What else would you top with an egg to make it dinner? And have you tried Jenny’s 7-minute trick?

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May reading roundup #2

May is flying by, between events at work, a wonderful weekend in Maine, and celebrating my sweet man’s birthday. Here’s what I have been reading:

The Path to Kindness: Poems of Connection and Joy, ed. James Crews
I’ve been reading this poetry anthology sloooowly for months; it offers glimmers of hope, like its predecessor (also edited by Crews). Full of poets familiar and new. Really lovely.

A Fatal Groove, Olivia Blacke
Juniper Jessup and her sisters are thrilled to be getting their record shop/cafe, Sip & Spin, off the ground. But when the mayor drops dead after sipping their coffee at the local bluebonnet festival, Juni and her sisters fall under suspicion. A fun second entry in Blacke’s Record Shop Mystery series; I like the cast of characters. To review for Shelf Awareness (out July 25).

West Side Love Story, Priscilla Oliveras
Musician and aspiring PA Mariana Capuleta doesn’t have time for love – till she kisses a handsome stranger on New Year’s Eve. He turns out to be Angelo Montero, part of a rival mariachi band. This modern-day Romeo & Juliet retelling set in San Antonio was way overwritten (so many similes!) but still a fun ride. Recommended by my friend Jess.

On Air with Zoe Washington, Janae Marks
After helping her birth father get out of prison, Zoe Washington is thrilled to be working with him at a bakery. But when Marcus reveals his dream of opening a restaurant, Zoe becomes determined to make that happen. She starts a podcast about the experiences of exonerees, launches a Kickstarter and brainstorms new desserts – all while juggling changing friend and family dynamics. I loved this sequel to Marks’ From the Desk of Zoe Washington, especially Zoe’s tenacity and the Boston references.

The Lady from Burma, Allison Montclair
A happily married (but terminally ill) woman visits The Right Sort Marriage Bureau to ensure her husband’s future happiness after her death. But when she’s found dead just days later, Iris Sparks and Gwen Bainbridge smell foul play. Meanwhile, Gwen is fighting to regain her legal status, and her court-appointed guardian may be involved in the case. This fifth mystery delves into each woman’s personal life, and the case is still well plotted; so enjoyable. To review for Shelf Awareness (out July 25).

Forever Hold Your Peace, Liz Fenton & Lisa Steinke
When Olivia and Zach meet, fall in love and get engaged in Positano, their parents (all divorced) understandably have reservations. But when all four parents plus the lovebirds meet for brunch, it turns out their moms are ex-best friends, estranged for 25 years. Olivia and Zach try to get them to play nice; the moms, June and Amy, try to one-up each other in wedding-planning hijinks; and the dads (one of whom has a secret) are along for the ride. A breezy, hilarious, juicy novel about weddings and secrets and (yes) trying to move on. I winced a lot; laughed often; and breathed several huge sighs of relief. To review for Shelf Awareness (out July 11).

To Catch a Thief, Martha Brockenbrough
Amelia MacGuffin loves books, cocoa and mysteries – but she wishes she were braver. When someone steals a town treasure, Amelia (with her siblings and their new neighbors, twins Dot and Dash) steps up to solve the mystery. A delightful cozy middle-grade story; the mystery is fun, but it’s really about community and belonging and lots of hot chocolate.

Most links (not affiliate links) are to my local faves Trident and Brookline Booksmith. Shop indie!

What are you reading?

Poetry Friday: Sandra Cisneros

Remedy for Social Overexposure

Seek a pirul tree and sit
beneath immediately.
Remove from
ears and tongue,
words.
Fast from same.

Soak in a tub of seclusion.
Rinse face with wind.
In extreme cases, douse
oneself with sky. Then,
swab gently with clouds.

Dress in clean, pressed pajamas.
Preferably white.

Hold close to the heart,
chihuahuas. Kiss and
be kissed by same.

Consume a cool glass of night.
Read poetry that inspires poetry.
Write until temperament
returns to calm.

Place moonlight in a bowl.
Sleep beside and
dream of white flowers.

Sometimes, at the end of a long week, Cisneros’ advice strikes me as exactly right. This one came via the good folks at Knopf; you can hear Cisneros read the poem on their Tumblr page.

Mystery Monday: Olive Bright

I don’t know much about pigeons, though I know they’ve been used as messenger birds for hundreds of years. But I’ve learned quite a bit about pigeons – and their use in World War II – since reading Stephanie Graves’ mystery series featuring Olive Bright.

Olive lives in the fictional village of Pipley, situated close to the real-life Brickendonbury Manor, used as a training ground for British intelligence services (SOE) during the war. When her father’s pigeons are rejected by the British pigeon service, she’s deeply disappointed – until SOE comes calling. Olive and her birds begin working with SOE (in the form of prickly Captain Jameson Aldridge), while she pretends to fall in love with the captain as a cover story. Soon, a village murder is added to the mix, and Olive’s family takes in a young evacuee, leaving Olive with her hands full: sleuthing, pigeon training and helping care for the household keep her quite busy.

It’s no secret I love a WWII mystery, and this series has all the right ingredients: cozy little village (with a disturbingly high murder rate); plucky, kind brunette heroine determined to make her mark and solve a few cases along the way; a will-they-won’t-they love story (with a bit of intelligence intrigue); and an engaging cast of secondary characters. In this series, that cast includes Olive’s blustering father and sharp-eyed, kind stepmother; her brother Lewis and best friend George, both away fighting; Jonathan, the evacuee who becomes a companion to Olive; Henrietta Gibbons, local Girl Guide; and lots of villagers, including Olive’s newly married chum, Margaret.

As the series continues, we learn more about both the villagers and Olive’s war work, not to mention her ingenuity for getting herself out of frequent scrapes. I read the third book earlier this spring, and am eagerly awaiting more of Olive’s adventures – and hoping she and the captain can finally admit they’re in love for real.

Have you read this series (with its Home Fires vibes)? I’d love to know what you think.

May reading roundup #1

We’re a week into May, and I’ve been racing through good books. Here’s what I have been reading:

Begin Again, Emma Lord
Andie Rose is an A+ planner – but when she transfers to the competitive state school where her parents met, her plans to ace her college experience fall apart. Instead, she finds friendships with her roommate and her stats tutor; shifts at the off-campus bagel place; a slot on the school’s pirate radio station, founded by her mom; and a will-they-won’t-they connection with her RA, Milo. I love Lord’s sweet, witty YA novels and this one was so much fun.

The Wedding Dress Sewing Circle, Jennifer Ryan
I flew through this charming WWII novel about a group of women in Kent banding together to mend and lend wedding dresses to each other amid fabric rationing. Fashion designer Cressida, shy vicar’s daughter Grace, aristocratic Violet and their friends were wonderful characters. Serious Home Fires feel-good vibes.

Pages & Co.: The Bookwanderers, Anna James
Tilly Pages loves spending time in her grandparents’ London bookshop. When Anne Shirley and Alice (of Wonderland) turn up in the shop, and Tilly discovers she can wander into books, her grandparents – and a secret sect of librarians – have a lot of explaining to do. A cute, bookish middle-grade story; I wanted to love it more than I did, but it was fun. Found at All She Wrote Books.

Write for Life: Creative Tools for Every Writer, Julia Cameron
I’ve loved Cameron’s work since I received The Sound of Paper as a college graduation gift. This is a six-week practical guide to getting in a writing rhythm, using her classic tools (Morning Pages, walks, Artist Dates). Helpful and engaging, though not much new info if you’re already a Cameron reader.

Love from A to Z, S. K. Ali
Zayneb has HAD it with her racist teacher targeting Muslims – but when she speaks out, she gets suspended. She heads to Doha to visit an aunt, where she meets Adam – Chinese-Canadian, also Muslim and recently diagnosed with MS. This lovely YA novel alternates between their perspectives, and deals with both difficult topics and the sweet headiness of first love. Thoughtful and fun. Found at the Bryn Mawr Bookstore in Cambridge.

Stateless, Elizabeth Wein
England, 1937: Stella North is determined to prove herself in an international race against 11 other young pilots from across Europe, to promote peace. But one contestant disappears, and Stella suspects sabotage. She works with a few other pilots to figure out who was responsible, and why. I love Wein’s fast-paced historical YA novels; this one has great flight details, fascinating characters, and a growing sense of unease as Europe heads toward war.

My Contrary Mary, Brodi Ashton, Cynthia Hand & Jodi Meadows
This sequel-of-sorts to My Lady Jane (which I loved) picks up with Mary, Queen of Scots, at the French court. She’s supposed to marry Prince Francis, but she’s ambivalent – meanwhile, Francis’ mother and Mary’s uncles are both scheming to gain power, and Mary’s mother is in faraway Scotland. With the help of her ladies-in-waiting (all of whom, like Mary, can change into animals) and Nostradamus’ daughter Ari, Mary learns to navigate both politics and love. I raced through this one on a flight; so much fun.

Off the Map, Trish Doller
Carla Black has always preferred traveling to putting down roots; she spent summers road-tripping with her father, Biggie, after her mom left. But when she goes to Ireland for her best friend’s wedding, she meets a man (the groom’s brother) who might make her want to stay. I like Doller’s smart modern-day romances; this one was pretty steamy for me. But I liked Carla and the honest way she was forced to deal with her issues.

Most links (not affiliate links) are to my local faves Trident and Brookline Booksmith. Shop indie!

What are you reading?

#mayflowers: crocuses.

They follow right on the heels of the snowdrops: those cheery little faces, spreading through flowerbeds in bright stripes of purple and gold and white, lifting their faces to the morning sun.

Like the snowdrops, I read about them in The Secret Garden; learned to look for them in Oxford; and truly fell in love with them during my years at Harvard. There was (is) a house with a purple door right across the street from my beloved Darwin’s, and the first crocuses always bloom there, in a triangular bed at the end of the driveway. They bloom all over that part of Cambridge, of course, but that yard is where I go every spring, checking to see if the green sprouts are poking up yet, through the grit and mulch and winter leaf litter.

Sometimes they bud when it’s still snowing out; some years they wait a little longer to emerge. But always, always, they arrive eventually, heralding the end of winter’s gray cold and biting winds. They are the first shot of true color to emerge after the snow, and that jolt of purple and gold goes straight to my heart, every year.

#mayflowers: a new series.

Hello, friends. It’s (suddenly) May, and the world is in bloom – the apple blossoms, lilacs and my beloved tulips are splashing out with color these days. I’m feeling the need for a new writing series, so this month I’ll be sharing with you reflections on – what else? – the flowers I love.

I’ve always been a flower fiend, though as a little girl, I didn’t see a lot of the flowers I regularly see here in New England. We had a daylily bed out back (until our rabbit, Barney, ate them all), and I regularly saw dandelions and other wildflowers, but the vegetation in West Texas is wildly (ha) different from where I live now.

My mother has red yucca and oleander in her yard, these days, and I remember puffball begonia plants and potted geraniums in front of our house in Dallas. But the flowers I read about in storybooks mostly remained just that. West Texas is too dry for lilacs and hydrangeas, crocuses and magnolias, and the only zinnias and gladioli I knew were the ones in my Neno’s garden in Ohio.

One of the beautiful, consistent gifts of living in Boston is watching the cycle of flowers as the seasons change. Again: we have seasons in West Texas, but they’re drastically different (and much dustier, mostly) than the ones here in New England. The earliest spring flowers, especially, are dear to me not only for themselves, but as signals that the winter is finally over. The green shoots signal warmer air, longer days, the emergence of people and activities from winter hibernation. And the first ones out – sometimes poking up through literal snow – are, fittingly, the snowdrops.

I first read about snowdrops in The Secret Garden, when Ben Weatherstaff teaches Mary about the plants she’ll see emerging in the Yorkshire spring. I didn’t know what they looked like, though I assumed they’d be white. I didn’t quite understand that some flowers could sprout, even bloom, when it was still cold out. (In my hometown, where the temperature swings can be wild, and spring arrives in mid-March, it doesn’t quite work like that.)

I don’t think I saw snowdrops with my own eyes until my first spring in Oxford, as a college student. There, as here, you can find them in flowerbeds and gardens, often the first reliable sign of green after the winter rains. I was amazed to see them blooming before spring had truly started, in University Parks and in front gardens behind low stone walls. They were a delightful surprise that first year, and every year I have lived in Boston, they have proved a reliable harbinger.

When I worked in Cambridge, I learned to watch for signs of spring: the crocuses in the yard of the house across the street from Darwin’s; the bulbs in front of the yellow house on Hilliard Street; the daffodils along the Charles River, and later the lilacs in front of Longfellow House. I learned, too, to watch for snowdrops there: even in the bitterest winters, they start popping up all over Cambridge in February and early March. They’re often struggling up through mulch and snow and leaf litter, but they are determined. Touched by weak early-spring sunshine, they break through and ring their tiny bells to herald winter’s end.

More flower reflections and photos to come.

April reading roundup #3

Suddenly, it’s lilac and tulip season – which means it’s inching closer to reading-barefoot-outdoors season. As we head into May, here’s what I have been reading:

Better Living Through Birding: Notes from a Black Man in the Natural World, Christian Cooper
Cooper gained some notoriety as the “Central Park birder” in 2020, but he’d been birding – and writing – for decades before that. This thoughtful memoir explores his experience as a queer Black man in New York City, his years writing for Marvel Comics (so cool!), his complex family relationships and, of course, his love for birds. Helpful tips on birding sprinkled throughout. I loved this book. To review for Shelf Awareness (out June 13).

Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, Jesse Q. Sutanto
When a mysterious man ends up dead on her teahouse’s floor, Chinese grandmother Vera Wong quickly decides the police are useless and she’ll solve the case herself. Hilarity ensues, including a spot of matchmaking; elaborate meals (cooked by Vera, of course); a Hercule Poirot-style dramatic reveal; and skirmishes with the police. I cracked up at this wonderfully plotted mystery; I love Sutanto’s work and hope she makes this a series.

Mrs. Porter Calling, AJ Pearce
Emmy Lake is relishing her job running the Yours Cheerfully advice page at Woman’s Friend magazine. But when the new publisher, the titular Mrs. Porter, starts changing all the best parts of the magazine, Emmy and her colleagues must band together to save Woman’s Friend. Meanwhile, WWII continues; Emmy’s friend Thelma and her kids move into the flat upstairs; and Emmy and her best friend Bunty continue to be shining examples of Pluck and Compassion. I adore this series. To review for Shelf Awareness (out August 8).

Leeva at Last, Sara Pennypacker
What are people for? This question propels Leeva Spayce Thornblossom out of her constricted existence (her parents are truly terrible people) and into the wider world. She meets the local librarians, makes a few friends and figures out how to save her town from bankruptcy. A sweet Roald Dahl-style middle-grade novel; I enjoyed Leeva and her new friends. Spotted at Symposium Books in Providence, RI.

My Lady Jane, Brodi Ashton, Cynthia Hand & Jodi Meadows
I was thinking about this book after seeing Six and then scored a copy at a Little Free Library. It’s a fresh, badass, feminist, hilarious take on Lady Jane Grey. England is split between Eðians – people who can change into animal form – and Verities – those who can’t. Edward VI is dying and hands his crown over to Jane, who is forced to marry a young lord who turns into a horse every morning. That’s inconvenient, but the real fun comes when politics, love and sly references to other stories collide. I raced through this in a weekend and adored it. Recommended by Anne.

Poet Warrior, Joy Harjo
I admire Harjo’s poetry (“Praise the Rain” is a favorite). This, her second memoir, explores her own identity as a poet and warrior, with a loosely chronological narrative of her life. It is wise and lovely, sometimes heartbreaking, occasionally a little hard to follow. Poems sprinkled throughout. Best read slowly, but definitely worth reading.

Symphony of Secrets, Brendan Slocumb
Musicologist Bern Hendricks is thrilled at the chance to work on a newly unearthed manuscript by his musical hero, Frederic Delaney. But as Bern and his tech-whiz colleague Eboni dig deeper, they discover a Black woman named Josephine Reed – was she Delaney’s lover, collaborator or something else? A fast-paced, fascinating musical mystery with a great dual narrative and engaging characters.

Most links (not affiliate links) are to my local faves Trident and Brookline Booksmith. Shop indie!

What are you reading?

Poetry Friday: Danusha Laméris

Small Kindnesses

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”

I came across this poem in the anthology How to Love the World last year, and still think of it often. I found out recently that Laméris collaborated with a number of young people on a poem celebrating more everyday kindnesses (NYTimes gift link). The whole thing is worth reading, but one line made me catch my breath: “what kindness can do to help this ruined world.”

Happy Friday, friends. May you seek, give and receive kindness where you need it today.

April is National Poetry Month, and I’ve been sharing poetry on Fridays here, as I do each year.

#mondaydelights: third places.

A few weeks ago, I met my guy for lunch in Cambridge on a rainy Tuesday. We had sandwiches at a place we both love, grooving to nineties music, and then I walked down the street to a coffee shop to work for a while. Later, I dropped in at Albertine Press, where I’ve taken a few craft workshops, and went to a yoga class at the studio near my house, where the instructor – sweet Kristina – greeted me by name.

As we move through these spring days, I keep thinking about this time three years ago: the fear and isolation, the masks on the T and at the grocery store, the almost total lack of in-person gatherings (except on warmer days, when we could take walks outside). One of the (many) things I missed during that time was my “third places”: the spaces separate from work and home where I spent time and formed relationships. At that time, those places included Darwin’s (above); the beautiful main branch of the Boston Public Library; Brattle Square Florist; and that same yoga studio, among others.

These days, my third places are the same and different: still the yoga studio; Toasted Flats, where I pick up a pita wrap for lunch every week or two; the East Boston library branch, where I am known by name; and that sweet Cambridge florist, where Stephen always has a smile for me. ZUMIX, where I work, functions as a third place for our students, where they can come and be themselves and make music, and get a little rowdy if they so choose.

I’m thankful today for those third places, and for the people – including my colleagues and friends – who work so hard to make them beautiful and accessible. It’s a true delight to welcome and be welcomed, and I’m grateful every time I walk in.