You may have noticed that things have been quieter than usual here on Pixelated Crumb this year. It’s not that I’m not cooking, baking, and eating, and it’s not that I haven’t been itching to share fabulous, seasonal recipes. It’s just been…well, it’s been an interesting year.
I found out that I was pregnant in early February and at just about the same time, my appetite went a bit haywire. I didn’t really want to look at food, let alone take pictures and write about food. I was basically in a semi-permanent state of always feeling a little awful (sometimes just straight up awful) and so unbearably tired. Foods that I had loved suddenly repulsed me. I got through the first 12 weeks knowing it would get better and that it would all be worth it.
But when I went in for my first ultrasound at 12 1/2 weeks, the doctor, after reviewing the sonogram the technician had just taken, came in the room and told us how very sorry he was. I couldn’t understand what he could possibly be talking about. Why would he be sorry? This was such a happy thing! New life! Soft baby skin and tiny little toes! It took a while for the news to sink in. Despite the fact that my body had kept carrying on being pregnant, the baby simply had not developed.
Over the past several months, I have written this blog post over and over in my head. I have gone over and over what I had to say, but it would fill a chapter in a book to say everything I wanted to say: how I declined a D&C and took meds that forced a miscarriage, how I had to take two rounds of the medicine for it to finally kick in, how intensely painful it was, how my parents drove eight hours to be with me, how I stared at pregnant women and couples with newborn babies with anger and resentment deep in my heart, how guilty and ashamed I felt for that anger and resentment, how kind and supportive my friends and family were, how I felt betrayed by my body, how responsible I felt no matter how many times the doctor and midwives told me that nothing I had done had caused this to happen, how my coworkers who didn’t even know why I was out of work for a week brought me flowers, how it took so much longer than I thought it would to recover, how I got macarons and Jeni’s ice cream in the mail from great friends, and how I never felt closer to and more in love with Joseph.
It’s that time of year: apple season. One of my all-time favorite times of the year. I’ve talked before about my love of apple season and even Apple Day, a day devoted entirely to devouring tasty meals made from apples. This apple bread was my first foray into apple cooking this fall and it is worthy of repeat performances. Many repeat performances.
I was frankly shocked at how quickly we devoured this loaf of apple cinnamon bread. It’s one of those quick breads that you make for breakfast and then decide to have some for dessert. After every meal.
My aunt and uncle moved into their cute house on the northern border of Massachusetts last winter and going up to visit them is the perfect antidote to the crazy work schedule I’ve had lately. Technically it’s on a lake, but we all call it the Pond House and it is every bit as cozy and quaint as it sounds. The house boasts big plush couches in the living room, comfy chairs on the screened-in porch overlooking the lake, tall Adirondack chairs on the deck, and even a cute little bench on the dock right over the water.
Have you figured out the pattern here? Whether it’s a bench, an Adirondack chair or a couch, there are myriad options of where to plant your tush while you sit and do nothing but while away the hours with some pretty awesome family members. Should you decide you’d like more movement than the basics of transporting wine or cheese from the table to your mouth, you can hop in a kayak or go for a scenic walk. In short, this is the life.
I’ve always heard those stories about people dropping off heaps of zucchini on people’s doorsteps in the dead of night at the height of zucchini season trying to unload some of their bounty, but it had never happened to me until last week. Joseph and I had been out most of the day and when we returned we found a bag of some of the biggest zucchini I have ever seen waiting for us at our door.
There was no note and I had no idea who had left it. Actually, over a week later, I still don’t know who left it. Perhaps they thought I would see it as a hassle, an obligation or something that I had to deal with, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. I love zucchini. I especially love it roasted with some lemon and garlic and served with pasta (in fact, I have two versions here and and here), but it’s also nice for breakfast in some carrot zucchini muffins. And it’s a good thing I like zucchini because I was now swimming in it. The bigger of the two weighed nearly 5 pounds!