It’s been raining for what seems like ever, Juliette’s acting up all over the place, every good run costs me days off my knee, and our washing machine seems to have finally kicked (just inside the warranty period, but the thing’s been such a headache that we’re saving ourselves more and replacing it now).
But.
Last night was the grand reopening of our wine club down the street, and Nick came home a bit early for the occasion. The renovations were impressive (although I’d rather have had the store open for the last few months), and we took in the new layout while I sipped at my welcome-back champagne. And now I won’t have to lug bottles of wine home with me every time I go to the grocery store, which improves my mood immeasurably.
Then this morning I went to the market and stopped to see my cookie supplier. I mean, she’s got tons of other baked stuff, but to me she’ll always be the woman who comes to Friday markets bearing huge quantities of homemade chocolate-chip cookies. She looked out of sorts, too: shivering and rubbing her arms and glaring at the spitting sky. “Miserable today, isn’t it?”
I agreed, and added a loaf of hazelnut bread to my usual two cookies in an attempt to improve the day for both of us. But my cookie lady had other ideas.
“Would you like a bite of Christstollen? It’ll warm you right up. Have you heard of this?”
She swerved her sample tray my way; there was a chunk of something dense and studded with dark bits and covered in powdered sugar. I did my best “cautiously interested” face and she cut me a tiny slice. “They’re traditional in the north for Christmas; the ones in this batch will keep good until March. They’re only available in the winter–it’s raisins, dried fruit, nuts, and rum.”
Fruitcake, I thought, and bit.
It’s not.
I mean, it is, I suppose. But not really; not like it sounds. Light and dense, dry and moist, soft and crunchy, and with the slightest bite of rum at the beginning and again at the end. It made me want to eat nothing but that until March.
And, indeed, it warmed me right up.