2026: A New Year…Mostly, Plus 100 Things To Love About 2025

View of bare tree canopy from the ground

I cannot belive how long it has been since I have posted in this space. Fig and peach jam from 2024? Is it possible that 2025 went by without a single recipe or food picture?

Not actually. I have, of course, cooked/baked many delicious things and taken more than a few pictures. But I have been focusing on other things, trying to find some joy offline and sometimes succeeding.

Mostly, 2025 has been a bumpy ride on the struggle bus in nearly every aspect of life. But it has been an invaluable time for me, introspective and filled with loss and the complications that arise from that. In much the same way as the last Year of the Snake, 2013, where five people I know died, 2025 featured losses, two important creatures (Gooby and Hank) and one human (my 107-year-old grandmother). It has been, and remains in these last few weeks before we move into the Year of the Horse, a deep and profound shedding of people, places, mindsets, and things.

So it seems fully appropriate to post my list of 100 Things to Love About 2025 where I didn’t quite get to 100. It was definitely a chore to get to 67, but I am grateful that I was still able to find things to love about what was otherwise a challenging year.

100 Things To Love About 2025

1. Two foxes playing in the snow at Still Pond Acres. The quiet, insistent snorts of horses in the barn, waiting for food. A single fox at Druid Hill Park, plus many deer calmly looking for grass.

2. Katz’s gluten-free cinnamon pop-tarts. These are far too small and far too expensive, but they are a nice treat.

3. The Heart in Winter by Kevin Barry. James by Percival Everett.

4. Coffee in the morning, every morning, pre-dawn.

5. The terrible tenant moving out and the peace that descends upon an empty house.

6. Friends (and their families) who welcome you in at your worst-feeling, ugly-crying. Who feed you tea and get angry on your behalf.

7. The Horse World Expo in Harrisburg, PA.

8. Boomer’s little noise every time he comes back into the kitchen from outside in the morning; his little “mmmrwp” sound he makes when I greet him with, “hello, friend.”

9. A warm day with no wind after weeks of bitter cold and working in the horse barn.

10. Sleeping in after days and days of having to get up before dawn to be a place.

11. Making it through another awful death anniversary, year 12, and the immediate release of pressure when February comes to a close.

12. A perfectly peaceful birthday: a ride on my sweet horse (who actually enjoyed it), a hike on the Sweet Air loop in Gunpowder Falls, a BALT sandwich from Golden West (and a mimosa while waiting), and a new episode of Top Chef, set in Canada.

13. Potentially good news about the homesteading book received on my birthday.

14. Making vanilla walnut scones with vanilla powder from Brittany.

15. A surprise gift certificate from Verde for authentic Italian Neapolitan pizza that is also available gluten-free.

16. Sitting outside on my balcony as spring birds begin their dawn chorus.

17. Launching a new scholarship for Graham Equestrian, a scholarship that would not exist were it not for my idea and my grants and my pushing to get it funded.

18. Chris Corsini, tarot card reader and astrologer of the internet and his spot-on lunar forecasts and monthly sign-based horoscopes.

19. Feeling peaceful, truly content, for the first time in a very long time, even though financial stability is still an issue. That feeling of having enough – money, time, and resources – and being okay with “enough” as it is right now. Being able to talk myself into the present moment.

20. Getting rid of everything that is not serving me: people, belongings, mindsets.

21. Hot chocolate chip cookies, the best recipe, fresh from the oven, with three dozen more portioned in the freezer and ready to bake whenever I want.

22. Naps in the sun on my balcony.

23. Letting some shit go. Not all of the shit, but some of it.

24. Perfect seats at the Orioles game (section 17, row six, seats 19, 18, 17). Crab fries. Singing during the 7th inning stretch.

25. Calling on a friend, who responds. Bolsters me up. Sets me straight.

26. Seeing my grandmother in what may be her final months. Massaging her hands, easing out the arthritic tension. Watching her feel good.

27. Dog hiking in the rain. Dog hiking when the trees are just starting their neon green flowering. Hank the dog, who is irrepressible and seriously energetic; taking pictures of him gazing adoringly at me as I head to our hiking spot.

28. Listening to Black writers read their work at the new community collective in Waverly.

29. Forcing myself out on a Friday night and finding a parking spot downtown immediately (not as lucky on the way home, but still close enough and a beautiful night for the short stroll home).

30. Asking a friend to remind me of why I should not text A Person and getting an excellent answer, along with a dinner invitation.

31. Prigel Family Creamery’s peanut butter ice cream in a hot fudge sundae.

32. Seeing my kid on her 25th birthday.

33. Seeing my kid on her 25th birthday.

34. Seeing my kid on her 25th birthday.

35. A horse witch who talks to Hank and also to Boomer and tells me to go on a grand adventure, or rather, Hank tells me to go on a grand adventure, and Boomer says it’s okay as long as he can go with me.

36. Asking the universe for a sign or a little help and feeling answered. Supporting myself in different ways. Cracking my heart open again and letting the light in.

37. Patapsco Valley State Park on a rainy Sunday, hunting for mullein.

38. Cheeseburgers. Real, meaty, grilled cheeseburgers, with fries and ketchup, eaten outside of Rocket to Venus with a friend.

39. Making the decision to sell Western Maryland, or at least put it on the market.

40. Writing again. Really and truly writing again. Writing in secret online but also writing out loud with #1000words of summer. Having something to say again and feeling compelled to say it. Submitting work again. Revising and organizing poems that I thought were long dead but have come together in a theme that makes sense. Feeling hopeful about art and writing.

41. Working on a short story, real fiction. Receiving inspiration and acting on it. Listening to the words and leaning into the characters. Realizing that my writing can evolve.

42. Rediscovering farmer’s market peaches and fresh corn. Branching out into green beans.

43. Eating my first croissant in a decade, chocolate, with shaved almonds on top. Paired with an iced coffee = heaven on earth.

44. Suffering no ill effects from the croissant and researching if gluten sensitivity can go away. Learning that it can.

45. Testing #44 with real pizza from Doppio Pasticceria. The sourdough crust was incredible, but the rest of the pizza was just okay. Lacked salt from top to bottom.

46. Fall arriving in Baltimore City. Two solid weeks of 70 degrees during the day and 60 at night. Low humidity.

47. The soaking rain that gives way to a cool morning.

48. Staying in Western Maryland and realizing that it’s not the time to sell the property but to improve it and sell my house. Insulating the cabin ahead of drywall (or some other kind of flooring).

49. Morning fires in Western Maryland, with coffee and birdsong and deer and 50-degree weather. Sitting wrapped in a blanket and writing morning pages for hours.

50. Letting go of friends who make me feel like an obligation. Sitting in loneliness. Being ok with being lonely; realizing (again) that being lonely alone is better than being lonely with a person.

51. Poetry and performance on a hot summer night at Current Space.A cold spritzer. Being at peace with an old friend.

52. Peaches. Peaches, peaches, peaches.

53. Visiting my grandmother in the last weeks of her life. Holding her hand and telling her how grateful I am that she was my grandmother. Watching her eyes light up and her smile. Edited to add: she is still alive, two months later. Visiting her with Sicily and holding her hand again. Edited again to add: she departed this life on December 26th.

54. Making Thanksgiving plans with my brother’s family. Trying to forgive.

55. Taking the Charm City Circulator to Locust Point. Watching the city roll by and not being responsible for navigating it.

56. Walking dogs and caring for cats on Thursdays. Getting to know more of the city on foot, finding secret gardens and pathways.

57. Another visit from Sicily, the kind where it’s just us and we get to do the things we like to do: road trips. House hunting. Snacks on the couch.

58. Walking three dogs in the woods in the fall, when there is no one around, and all of the dogs are just happy to be alive.

59. Apples. All apples in the fall, with caramel and cinnamon.

60. Finishing my first short story and sending it out into the world.

61. Getting a poem accepted into The Orchards Poetry Journal.

62. My red horse, living his best life, and the little noise he makes when I visit. It’s really a noise for the carrots I bring, but for a small moment, I can convince myself that he is glad to see me.

63. Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy, a gorgeous book that made me cry.

65. My child visiting me once a month for the last three months of the year; making latkes with her in the kitchen; going to the movies with her (Marty Supreme, meh); eating Chinese food from New Asian Taste on Christmas Day.

66. Spending time in the rain with my horse after he crossed the Bridge; rubbing his still-warm shoulder and wailing when there was no one to hear or see; deeply appreciating his kindness and special crotchety brand of friendship and wisdom.

67. Sleeping early on New Year’s Eve and snuggling down into the warm covers, sleeping through fireworks and waking up feeling like the previous year was complete in a satisfying way.

Fig and Peach Jam

Summer is coming to a close, thank everything that is sacred, and I have learned a poignant lesson: Peach season is over before farmer’s market vendors say it’s over.

Sure, you might get a juicy, sweet peach at the end of August, but you’re more likely to bite into a mouthful of mealy fruit than not.

BUT FRET NOT. Raid your neighbor’s fig tree (or come down in the morning to a bin full of them on the front step, delivered by the neighbor himself), and get ready to make the most delicious, small-batch fig and peach jam. It’s fast and easy and brings out the succulent peachy goodness that’s hiding behind that mealy texture.

Fig and Peach Jam
This makes about four half-pints of jam, with a little leftover to eat immediately over ice cream or spread on toast with goat cheese.

Ingredients

2 cups of peaches, peeled, pitted, and chopped*

2 cups figs, chopped

2 cups sugar

2-4 tablespoons lemon juice

½ teaspoon salt

¼ to ½ teaspoon almond extract

Method

If you plan on water bath processing your jam, prepare your jars first. Wash jars and lids in warm, soapy water while you bring a stockpot of water to boil on the stove. Boil clean jars for two minutes, then move to a clean dish towel. Dip lids, ladles, and anything else you will use in the canning process into the boiling water and set aside.

Put a clean plate in the freezer to test the fig and peach jam for doneness. This will become clear soon.

Place figs, peaches, sugar, lemon juice, and salt in a large (at least 4-quart) pot. Leave lots of headspace for the jam to foam. Bring to a boil.

Play something nice on the radio or load up a podcast. Lower the heat to medium-low, and stir as the jam boils/simmers. Stir the foam down as it rises.

Boil for 15 minutes, then get out a masher or an immersion blender. Use either tool to mash some of the fruit or all of it if you like. I prefer some texture in my jam. Return the jam to a boil.

To see if your jam is ready, remove the frozen plate from the freezer and spoon some jam onto it. Let cool for a few minutes, then drag a finger through the jam. If it makes a path that does not get filled immediately by liquid-y jam, it’s ready. If the path fills in quickly, keep boiling and stirring. Wash the plate, dry it completely, and put it back in the freezer. Test after another ten minutes until the path your finger makes stays clear.

When it’s ready, remove the jam from the heat and stir in almond extract. You could skip this, but I would not recommend it. The almond adds a depth of flavor that really comes through in the final jam.

Ladle fig and peach jam into prepared jars, leaving ¼” headspace. If you are not planning on water bath processing, set aside and let cool at room temperature without moving overnight, then move to the ‘fridge or freezer.

To water bath can, heat a large stockpot of water to boiling. Carefully lower the jars of jam into the boiling water (make sure the water is at least an inch above the jars). Boil for five minutes, then remove to cool on the counter overnight. Listen for the lid to “pop,” indicating a seal. This might take a full 24 hours. If the lids don’t pop, you could either remove the lid, add a new one, and reprocess, or you can place it in the freezer or ‘fridge.

Unprocessed fig and peach jam is good in the fridge for a few weeks; canned jam with a proper seal lasts for years.

*Note: I used slightly more than two cups of peaches, and nearly exactly two cups of figs, as that is the fruit I had. You could change the ratio and add more figs than peaches if you like.

Let Me Bake For You: GF Treats To Order Starting October 1st.

Yes, friends, it’s true: the oven is fired up and ready to go for fall and holiday baking. If you need a delicious gluten-free cake or some cookies or maybe even some gluten-free cranberry walnut biscotti, let me bake for you.

Ordering opens October 1st – drop me an email at the link above and let me know what you’d like. Order at least a week in advance ($25 rush for anything shorter), and pay via Venmo, PayPal, or Zelle when your order is confirmed.

Looking forward to sharing my sweet treats with you.

Wintering With Preserved Lemons

As you may just be visiting for the recipe and I have not mastered the “Jump to Recipe” button, I won’t go into a long screed about wintering. If you are interested in what that means and how it’s going, hop on over to my Medium page. I hope you’ll follow me there, too. It’s a more contemplative space that I have separated from my recipe writing.

And what better way to bid winter adieu than to make preserved lemons? Salty, tart citrus softens with time and is an excellent addition to salad dressings, soup, meat, and casseroles. Stick it on your charcuterie board in thin slivers and pile it on a cracker with meat and cheese. Use them any way you would any other pickled vegetable, and be prepared to be amazed.

I had leftover lemons and five minutes this morning, so I went ahead and threw this together. They sit, gathering their thoughts for 30 days, so start now and you’ll be able to welcome spring with them.

Preserved Lemons

Ingredients

4 lemons, organic or well-scrubbed

¼ cup kosher salt

1 tablespoon sugar

3 bay leaves

1 tablespoon peppercorns

1 cup of lemon juice (enough to cover lemons)

Method

Scrub your lemons well and cut off both ends. Cut an “X” into one end, almost to the other but leaving the four quarters connected. Place the lemons in a large bowl.

Mix together salt and sugar and pour over the lemons. Pack each lemon with the mixture, then cover the bowl and refrigerate for 24 hours.

The next day, wash and sterilize a glass jar (boil in water for five minutes). Pack the lemons, salt, and any juice they released into the jar. Add the bay leaves and peppercorns, and add lemon juice to cover. Seal the jar and return it to the fridge.

Let the lemons sit for at least three weeks before tasting. They will have softened considerably; the skin will be tender and entirely edible. Consume within six months.

Homemade Almond Butter

We’ve been lied to, friends. It’s hard to imagine, but for years we’ve been buying ultra expensive almond butter as a nice alternative to your standard peanut, paying at least double the cost. And I feel a little dumb, it’s true, for not figuring this out sooner, but it is possible to DIY almond butter. Making homemade almond butter is neither hard nor complicated, but for some reason it never crossed my mind. Which is weird, since I have made cashew butter AND I buy those huge sacks of almonds from Costco for baking.

As it is mid-January, and many people are tightening their wallets, here for you is homemade almond butter. It could not actually be any easier if it tried. It’s essentially one ingredient – two if you count salt – costs about $2, and takes 15 minutes (if you roast the almonds and/or have a tired food processor like me).

Here you go. You might never buy almond butter again.

Homemade Almond Butter

Ingredients
3 cups of almonds
Pinch of salt

Method
If you want to roast your almonds before making almond butter, preheat your oven to 400° and spread a single layer of almonds on a baking sheet. Roast for five minutes, then give the pan a shake and roast for five minutes more. Allow to cool slightly (although I did not, and it was all fine).

If the almonds you have are already roasted, pop all 3 cups in your food processor. Use the pulse function to get things started. This chops the almonds into little tiny bits, and then progressively into almond meal, and then finally into a gritty paste.

Do not despair. Turn your food processor on high and let her go. You can add a pinch or two of salt at this stage. After a while, the almonds will begin to break down completely, and turn into almond butter. It’s like magic.

This recipe makes a little under three cups. Store it in your old almond butter jar in the fridge for about three weeks.

Notes
You can also get funky and artisanal like our Canadian neighbors to the north and add all kinds of delicious things to your homemade almond butter. Maybe some cinnamon. Add some cocoa powder and a little sugar. Toss in a handful of chia seeds and coconut.

If you are making additions that need to be incorporated, but not necessarily puréed, add them after the DIY almond butter comes together and pulse to incorporate.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: