I haven’t baked much of anything for the past few years unless a birthday or special occasion required it. It isn’t that I no longer enjoy baking; I consider it a relaxing activity — especially when I can take my time and get involved in the process. Redirected habits are primarily to blame for why I no longer fire up my oven as much as I used to, but I miss it and enough time has passed that I’ve managed to try a few new recipes. A Dorset Apple Cake, for starters. Of course this was inspired by our last trip.
I suppose I can blame The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry for our most recent trip. If you’ve not read it, it’s about a man who spontaneously decides to walk across England. An odd story, it’s one which will always stay with me. And it isn’t so much that I immediately wanted to walk across England after having read it, but I was intrigued.
It’s been a year and a half since I’ve written here, and before that, nearly a year. When I think about why, several reasons come to mind, but the most significant is one most worthy; I wrote a novel. This November represents the four-year mark of the beginning of the project and much has changed in that time. I’ve changed.
“So where are you staying?” the woman on the other side of the Avis counter asked as she processed our car rental. My husband and I had just arrived in Portland, Maine after a red-eye from San Diego followed by a botched connecting flight in Philadelphia. We were more than ready for our vacation to begin.
Last year about this time when my husband and I were preparing for our trip to Europe, I busied myself with finding recipes that might be typical of the region we would be in so I could try them at home. I was able to share a few of these before we left, but neglected to share the Cream of White Asparagus Soup I made.