Golden sunshine

The sun is shining today, but it is a weak light, barely able to warm the floor where it casts its rays. We have turned the corner into deep autumn, and Old Man Winter is waiting in the wings. So it is no surprise that the part needed to make our boiler produce hot water did not arrive in a timely fashion. Friends have provided us with space heaters, though we have learned that we can’t have heat and run the microwave at the same time.

The effects of living in a cold house, though, are showing: Little One woke pulling and rubbing at his ear this morning and we suspect his cold may be becoming an ear infection. The windows in our bedroom have condensation on them, and the room needs airing, something we dare not do, lest we lose any precious warmth. We have not sat in the living room as a family for a week, and our stringed instruments refuse to stay in tune.

Upstairs, suitcases are out, piles of clothing are mounded on our bed, and my desk has been cleared. We shall pack our bags and decamp to California, to the city of my father’s birth for the rest of the week. A professional conference is our official reason, but the forecast of 68 degrees and sunny, typical fall weather from my childhood beckons us.

Before we leave, we’ll finish up the leftover lentil soup and the last cucumbers and tomatoes from the Redmond farmer’s market. The doctor will swing by this evening and look in Little One’s ears, and British Neighbor has promised to turn on the space heaters if Jack Frost threatens to freeze our pipes.

Our local South 47 Farm shutters for the season tomorrow, but we know there’s a bountiful farmer’s market across the street from the hotel in the Ferry building this Saturday. We’re ready for a little warmth.

Celebrate!

Today is National Chocolate Day, an auspicious occasion by any measure. I really want to take the opportunity to celebrate by getting up to my elbows in obscene amounts of the stuff, but am stuck at the keyboard, trying to overcome writer’s block on a campaign speech for election to the board of directors of ATA. Make no mistake, I have no aversion to intellectual effort, and I’d really like to be elected, but it really seems a pity to spend such an important holiday slaving away on mere words.

And then I recall the words of fellow chocolate-lover Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, that fabulous French gastronome whose day job was that of magistrate. He notes that chocolate is, “above all, helpful to people who must do a great deal of mental work.” (« Le chocolat est très convenable aux personnes qui se livrent à une grande contention de l'esprit »)

So there you have it. It’s not a matter of either/or. I must do the chocolate work to be able to write that speech. Which is why I’ll move the space heater upstairs to the kitchen and work on flavoring the latest incarnation of the auction truffles. In case you’re still searching for a suitable way to celebrate, I append the result of my mentally taxing research below.

8 ounces bittersweet chocolate
1/2 cup coconut milk
1 tablespoon extra virgin coconut oil

Coarsely chop the chocolate and place into a clean bowl. Heat the coconut milk and oil to nearly boiling. Add the milk mixture to the chocolate and stir to melt the chocolate evenly, working quickly. Refrigerate the chocolate until firm, about 2 hours. Using a measuring spoon, scoop up 1 teaspoon of chocolate, and quickly roll into a ball about 3/4-inch across. Chill until firm and coat as desired. Makes about 30 truffles.