It all started with a marshmallow roaster.
This one, to be exact:
While doing some E-Christmas shopping in December, I fell in love with practically everything on
ShopTerrain.com. I found gifts for several people on my list, from my grandmother-in-law with the annual strawberry jam-making ritual (
Weck canning jars) to my Mom's practical, yet discerning fiance (a stylish
and useful outdoor zinc
thermometer). But what I really felt the overwhelming urge to give people was the Twig Marshmallow Roaster. No, I do not belong to a family of campers. And we're not s'mores obsessed (though I wouldn't mind if we were). For some reason I was just drawn to it.
Without really knowing who the roasters were for, I bought two. Here's why: wouldn't having a delightful, beautiful, branch-like tool at the ready for roasting marshmallows make you much more likely to roast them? And when isn't a roasted marshmallow a clear path toward happiness? The meditative act of roasting the perfect marshmallow--whether you prefer yours golden brown or singed black on the outside and impossibly gooey on the inside--is good for the soul. It's the sort of relaxed, yet focused activity that sparks conversation. Sometimes simple pleasures really are the best.
I gave away the roasters as gifts. Which was the upstanding, Christmas-spirited thing to do. But I longed for one to call my own-- even though I have no fireplace, outdoor fire pit, or plans to go camping in the next 5 years. It was just one of those childish
I have to have it! impulses. So a week ago, I returned to Terrian to find that they were out of roasters! Not a single one left! My only option, in order to fulfill this irrational desire, was to order Terrian's "Cozy Kit," consisting of one Twig Marshmallow Roaster, an eco-friendly log, a canvas wood-carrying tote, and this book:
In case you were wondering, this is where I was going with all of that marshmallow talk. Where has
Long Nights and Log Fires: Warming Comfort Food for Family and Friends been all my life? This book could constitute the entire "Cozy Kit" and I'd be satisfied. It's packed with every imaginable cold-weather comfort food dish I could dream up. I love that there's a chapter devoted to snacks that includes Honey-baked Camembert and Potato & Parsnip Croquettes... and mini Croque-Monsieurs. Equally endearing are the steaming hot toddies and tumblers of scotch that appear on every other page. An alternate title to the book could very well have been
The Alcoholic's Guide to Surviving the Winter. Oh, and did I mention the roaring fires? This book is not afraid to get literal.
Published by
Ryland, Peters and Small, which is based in London and New York, there's a definite British vibe. But I like it. It's about time I incorporated Rarebit Toasts into my life. There's also a more general European influence in the recipes; French classics like Cassoulet contrast the classic Spanish Albondigas dish and the North African Lamb Tagine with Chestnuts, Saffron and Pomegranate seeds. If the key to enjoying the winter is to focus on what's unique and, well, wintry about winter, then I think I've found my manual. From the soup chapter, here are a few possibilities for the week ahead:
- Parsnip, Chorizo and Chestnut Soup
- Slow-cooked Onion and Cider Soup with Gruyere Toasts
- Pumpkin Soup with Honey and Sage
