Robins Around The Christmas Tree Stoke City Christmas Premium Shirt
I pulled myself out of bed and headed down to the kitchen, where I sat watching her cook from the kitchen table. Then came the tears. My house had burned down! But god, it smelled so good. I didn’t want to eat. If the soup tasted as good as it smelled, I might feel joy in a moment of total darkness? I had no idea what that would feel like, but I knew I didn’t want to feel it. I wasn’t ready to hold both of those things at once, because doing so meant I was beginning the process of moving on. Nora dished up piping hot bowls of soup to a handful of sorrowful, hungry bellies. As she fed us, I sat with my head hanging low over mine. I couldn’t do it. On any other day, I’d have been the first one to dive in. On any other day, I would have been at the stove, cooking alongside her, singing the praises of the soup while serving it up to my friends with unbridled enthusiasm. But this wasn’t a normal day. This was January 7. A date that will remain burned into my mind forever.Robins Around The Christmas Tree Stoke City Christmas Premium Shirt
I had to gather the courage to take that first bite. Had it not been cooked by Nora, I don’t know if I’d ever have gotten there. But the soup smelled too good. And god damn was that first bite worth it. Deep and brooding, rich and thick. The savoriest soup I’d ever tasted. Beluga lentils simmered into a kaleidoscope of sultry, salty flavors. Fennel seed, sundried tomatoes, and garlic, lifted by a kick of Calabrian chilies, and a cold dollop of labne swirled in at the end. I treasured every bit. The last day we spent in our home was an insignificant one. Or, it was supposed to be insignificant. Nora and I were working on a couple of new recipes—one for broken meatball and rice porridge, another for burnt Basque quiche—in my butter yellow kitchen. It was a blustery, wind swept morning. The Santa Ana winds rolled through with full force. But the sun was peaking through. And we continued to cook. The text messages started in the late afternoon. The first one was from my brother. “Have you guys heard about the fire that’s happening at Eaton Canyon?” I responded that I hadn’t—up until then, I’d been in a work bubble. He responded immediately. “You guys might want to pack an evacuation bag.” Then the power went out.
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