Dear friend,
Since I’m in my “lit girl” stage, it feels only right to tell you what I’m reading: Robinson Crusoe. For those unfamiliar, it is the story of a shipwrecked sailor who lives isolated from the world for decades on a desert island. As one can easily imagine, life was tough on the island in many ways and Robinson often grieves the dire circumstances he has found himself in.
On the maiden voyage of his island-made boat, venturing out into the sea for the first time, his small boat is caught in a tide that rips him from the safety of the island’s edge. He watches in despair as his “home” fades further and further into the horizon. What once he saw as his prison, now, becomes his sole desire: to set foot once again on its land and be safe from the certain death that awaits him in the wild, open sea.
Providence eventually leads Robinson back to the safety of his island’s shore. He promptly anchors his boat and vows to never set sail in such a way again. In that moment, he realizes the island isn’t his prison, but his oasis amongst the raging sea. While the island doesn’t have civilization, it has provision. And faced with the alternative, that was sufficient.
Though this may seem an odd story with which to begin my normally-lighthearted Friday letter to you, I do find comfort in its telling for this reason: when we are given the gift of perspective, even our present circumstances become worthy of deep gratitude.
What they don’t tell you about getting older…
… is that home becomes less of a place. I’ve found that each season of life holds its own particular version of “home”. When I was younger, this was the house I grew up in, with my sisters and parents. Then it became Stuart and wherever we were together. Now, I have my own four children that make up my home. Which version of home comes next?
When Stuart and I went back to Italy in October, I walked into the small village grocery store and cried. The smell made me impossibly melancholy for the season when that village was our family’s home.
And when I’m down south with our southern family? I’m right at home there too.
Eventually, eternally, this thirst for home will be finally and completely satisfied. What a glorious day that will be!
Home Season
After lamenting my feelings of inadequacy with you all earlier this week, I wanted to share with you that I did, in fact, get my home clean. It took some effort, and my family leaving the house for a few hours, but order is once again restored.
Since I shared quite a few messy-house-pictures over the past few weeks, I thought the ‘ol girl deserved a bit of a respectful showing. It’s important to note: those messy pics were in fact my house, as are these. Same house, different day. See? Perspective.
Make This To Cheer Yourself Up
It takes 10 minutes and is almost no effort to put this one the table. A good skillet and favorite cut of meat is all you need for the perfect pan-fried steak. Rib-eyes are fatty and wonderful, tenderloin is an obvious choice, even less-expensive cuts like sirloin or Denver do wonderfully with this preparation. It’s impressive, colorful, acidic, and interesting. It’s perfect.
This recipe is from our Cooking Community archive of whole-food, from-scratch recipes.
For the steak, per person
1 steak
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons butter or olive oil
For serving, per person
Small handful of unpitted olives
2 tablespoons highest-quality olive oil
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Roasted red pepper filets, torn into bite-size pieces
Additional salt and pepper, as desired
Line the steaks up on a few paper towels. Generously salt and pepper each side. Allow the steaks to come to room temperature - it’s fine if the steaks remain out, allowing the salt time to penetrate the meat. Ideally, the steaks have at least two hours under salt.
Melt the butter in a skillet. When it’s nice and hot, add the steaks into the pan. Depending on how many you’re cooking, you may need to use two pans or cook them in batches. Cast iron skillets are ideal for pan-frying steaks, if you’ve got them.
Allow the steaks to remain cooking over medium-high heat for 5-6 minutes per side without disturbing them. You can add additional butter to the pan if you feel it needs it, even spooning butter over the steaks if you just can’t help yourself. The steak should develop a nice, golden crust. If you have a digital thermometer, I prefer to temp steaks and pull them when they register 130° (medium-rare).
Once the steaks are cooked to your liking, remove them from the pan and set them aside to rest.
Meanwhile, prepare plates for serving the steak by adding some olives, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and roasted red pepper fillets onto each plate.
Slice the steak into ½” slices, discarding any bones, and lay the steak strips onto each plate. Serve immediately, preferably with a large slice of crusty bread and a generous handful of arugula.
Click the recipe card above to download your free printable PDF.
No Bangs For Me
I sat down to get my haircut last week, knowing full well that bangs would not solve my problems, but also wondering if maybe… just maybe… they would. The face looking back at me in the mirror felt strange, old, and a bit haggarty (not a word, using it anyway). Pale cheeks stood out from sunken eyes. Yet the problem isn’t my face, or my hair, or my age, or my life. It’s just winter. Those closest to me hold me to a strict standard: no major life decisions are to be made in February or August. Those months are off-limits from anything drastic.
(Speaking from too much experience here.)
Even if I asked my hairdresser for bangs, she’s under strict instructions to say no… been there, done that. And once I’ve got bangs, it’s still winter, and I’m now stuck with a hairstyle I have to maintain far more rigorously.
My little Juliette curled up in my bed last night and shared her heart with me — she was melancholy, she said… a bit out of sorts and feeling a bit weird. She wasn’t sure why, but I was. I explained to her the value of light in the world, the way our bodies absorb it and the way it fills us, fuels us, grows us, and inspires us. It is what we long for and where we thrive. It is a piece of our souls that is ready for its life-giving rays to be once again part of our days, where we can sweat under it’s heat and labor in it’s provisions.
It feels far away now, but I hope in its return. It always returns. In the meanwhile, my job is to just keep it between the rails and keep all hair intact.
If Italy has been lingering in your mind, you can find the details here.
May your fires be lit and your tables be full!
Love,
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