My friend KBell makes socks for a living. But it’s what comes out of her kitchen that’ll really knock your socks off – the world’s most perfect brisket.
That’s a boast, I know, that is bound to generate some heat. But what you have to know about Kbell’s brisket is two things: She’s ridiculously generous about sharing her recipe, which actually hails from her mother Selma Bell of Gloucester, Mass. And, for all I know, from Selma Bell’s mother, too. The Bells from Gloucester are like that, a tight-knit (so to speak) family. But the second and probably more important aspect of KBell’s brisket is that it’s pretty much fool-proof.
Europeans do it better. Not the wine, beer, and cheese, which are all great, but the holidays and vacations. A holiday in Europe occupies at least two
weeks. Summer vacation is six to eight. With that much time off from
work, one’s internal clock resets. The mind and body slow down to take
in the pleasures of the moment.
The other day my mother asked me, “Of all the things you cook, which one do you love the best?” I replied, “Dessert! All kinds. English trifles. French tarts. Cakes, cupcakes, and cookies.” It was a set up. She smiled and asked with a tilted head, “Cookies?! What kind?!”
The American media warns us at every turn that Christmas is a time of over-indulgence. Women’s magazines sprout articles about how to avoid the buffet table, not to mention an extra ten pounds. Readers flip quickly past that article to the one depicting how to decorate a sugar cookie.