Coffee, mismatched pajamas (crossword puzzle below, psychedelic pink Victoria's Secret on top), cranberry bread.
The squash has been put through the strainer, last night's dishes washed, and the cherries (two jars of Trader Joe's excellent Morellos, drained) sitting around getting comfortable with the tapioca, in the hopes of softening up the little cassava balls enough so that they'll disappear in the baking. Talked briefly to my mom, Alex, and sister in Rochester, where it's been raining and snowing off and on all week. According to the family report, my sister, who is a scientist and very precise, has made a beautiful apple pie, and my mom is snapping the ends of a few pounds of green beans for some kind of casserole.
"Is it the kind with the cream of mushroom soup and the onion crispies on top?" I asked, just to tease her, since my mom is a really good cook. Sure, we had canned cream of mushroom soup growing up, but only as actual soup.
"No!! It's from Lidia. There's fresh mozzarella in it, and all kinds of things."
That's Lidia Bastianich, of Food Network/Felidia's/multiple cookbook fame, with whom my mom considers herself on a first-name basis, ever since we shared a table with her at the James Beard Awards one year, and she gave me advice about the food markets in Bologna.
Actually, come to think of it, my aunt used to be very fond of that classic kind of green-bean casserole,and always brought it with her to Thanksgiving at our house, since she knew that my mom was much more likely to have some kind of new-fangled steamed green beans with almonds or other inappropriately crunchy green thing. They must have wrangled over this one--or perhaps my aunt Karen has promised to have the real thing on hand.
But back in the kitchen, it's time to put on the Poi Dog Pondering and Hank Williams, and git these pies in the oven!