The Sweetest Season
I know we're supposed to be on to all things 2024, but my heart is still holding the special moments of the last few weeks so tenderly...
Maybe it’s a mom thing or a getting older thing, or the particular darkness of the world around us right now. Or the ages of our kids, or the awareness of changes coming—whatever the reason, there was a true sweetness to this holiday season for our family, and while I know it’s time to move on to all things 2024, my heart’s not quite ready to let go of the most special moments of these last weeks.
As is our family’s tradition, I baked 20 loaves of my Aunt Mary’s raisin bread, the house smelling like heaven for days on end—I wrapped them in striped tissue paper and the kids delivered them to our friends and neighbors. I brought a loaf (and a bottle of Prosecco) to every cocktail party and dinner party, and we ate slices of it with lots of butter (and melted cheddar for me!) every morning. I made pans and pans of onion dip, multiple curried cheeseballs, dozens of bacon wrapped dates, and I schlepped them all over the city to cocktail parties and dinner parties with friends.
On Christmas Eve, William joined Aaron in the band at St Peter’s, and they led the most beautiful candlelight carols. Henry and I sat in one of the front pews and sang and made silly faces at William, and I cried absolute buckets—it was so lovely. After the service, we all cozied up around the tree for Jolabkaflod—my favorite new tradition. A new book to unwrap for each of us, and a table full of cookies and hot chocolate and champagne.
Here’s what each of us read that night:
Henry: The Creative Act by Rick Rubin
Aaron: Golf is Not A Game of Perfect by Bob Rotella
William: Storyteller by Dave Grohl
Me: Best American Food Writing 2023 edited by Mark Bittman
On Christmas morning, we opened presents—and the first present we open every year is from my Aunt Sally. She sends each of us a can of Pringles with a little gift slipped under the top, so we eat Pringles for Christmas breakfast every year.
In the early afternoon, we went out for dim sum—Chinese food on Christmas is an enduring NYC tradition, and we love Dim Sum Chelsea right in our neighborhood, especially their wontons in spicy sauce and their sautéed green beans.
On Christmas night, we went over to our neighbors’ place for the 2nd annual poker & leftover night—pajamas and slippers welcome. A teaching table so the kids or any non-poker players can learn the game, and then a game for regular players afterward. We were all tired and happy, and it was perfect, really.
One thing that struck me so deeply: the gifts I received were so thoughtful—I felt deeply known, like my friends and family really see me. My parents gave me a piece of jewelry that represents this season and what matters to me right now so perfectly. Aaron got me a sweatshirt from one of my favorite restaurants—I love it so so much. Henry made me such a sweet gift.
One friend gave me this Roma Heirloom Tomato candle from Flamingo Estates—you know how deeply I love all things tomato, and Flamingo Estates does everything so beautifully. The smell is incredible—I’m instantly transported to summertime, even in the deep freeze of New York winter.
And this one—omg! I died laughing when I opened it. Over Thanksgiving I’d been chatting with a friend and mentioned how much I love all things pickle-flavored, especially pickle brine and pickle martinis, and on Christmas Eve, some little elves dropped this off. I love it so much.
The week between Christmas and New Year’s, we kept it super cozy and watched a lot of great movies—three favorites: Priscilla, Killers of the Flower Moon, and the Holdovers. Highly, highly recommend all three.
And while we’re at it, a few more books I’ve loved recently:
Talking at Night by Claire Daverly
Before We Were Innocent by Ella Berman
On New Year’s Eve, good friends hosted an absolutely delightful party—kids and parents, light-up bunny ears and sunglasses, a disco ball and a killer playlist, champagne and caviar and pigs in a blanket and little cups of Gabriela’s legendary arroz con leche. We danced for hours and went up on to the rooftop to count down to midnight, toasting Happy New Year! and offering Cheers! across to other rooftops and revelers—this perfectly blurry photo captures it all:
You know how there are times when, despite your very best intentions, you miss the most important parts? You let yourself get busy and frantic, you let the tasks and to-do lists obscure everything else? I’ve done that a thousand times, at least—it’s basically my specialty. I remember crying big tears our first Christmas here, telling Aaron I felt like I was supposed to be some mystical cross between an elf and a Costco, and I was failing at both.
I’ve missed all sorts of the most important moments over the years because I get so overwhelmed by all the things to do/buy/carry/make/handle/wrap/etc etc etc…but here’s the gift: I didn’t miss it this year.
I felt it in my bones, held it against my heart. I said no to a lot of things, very intentionally, and I held a lot of space for snuggles by the tree, slow mornings, walks around the neighborhood, baking and listening to music with the kids. The city is so beautiful during the holidays, and the traditions we’ve built over the years are really precious to me. And I didn’t miss it. I was all the way here, all the way inside the miracle and beauty of it. I tasted it and smelled it, held it in my hands. And I’m so profoundly, deeply grateful.
One last note: as I look back over the last year, one of the most meaningful parts of my work life has been writing these weekly letters—they’ve been a place to try some new things creatively, to play, to explore, to share glimpses of what I’m reading and eating and learning, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed each part of it.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading, subscribing, sharing, recommending. It really means so much to me, and as we move into a new year, these weekly letters are one of the parts of my work life that I’m most inspired to develop and build—thank you for being a part of it with me.
XO—S