The last few days, it's rained and howled something fierce. The weather has been so dreary, it almost felt like I was in Boston again. The cumulative effect of so many gray days so late in December has been to make me feel quite festive. All I've felt like doing is cuddling by the tree with Stephen, eating warm foods and sipping warm drinks. I've mulled so much cider that I may never get the cinammon and allspice smell out of my kitchen; right now, it blends so well with the fir tree smell that I don't particularly mind.
Tonight I simmered chunks of pork shoulder with white beans and kale in broth with orange juice, cumin, and my delightful new smoked paprika. The smoky aspect was nicely subtle. It added depth and richness, smoothing the bitterness of the kale and infusing the tender meat with a flavor just barely reminiscent of low and slow pork barbecue.
We ate it bathed in the glow of 1,725 individual bulbs (I come from a seriously Christmas light-intensive family). Everything is more romantic in that warm light, surrounded by the smells of evergreen and sweet spices, pork and paprika. It was all I could do not to spin some Bing Crosby on the stereo and go out to rustle up some chestnuts to roast.
Ooh, toasted nuts. I bet that would smell great.
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