it is with an extremely heavy heart that I share of Honey’s passing. Always one for a chase, Honey escaped her yard, and tragically, she was hit by a car and didn’t make it. To say there is a Honey-sized hole in our hearts is an understatement. It's hard to make sense of death, to grasp the surrealness of it, but honoring Honey through his memorial fundraiser, and seeing the overwhelming support thus far, has helped me to feel warmth and connection in spite of such loss.
"I love s'mores," he hinted. "I love cookies," he hinted. So I went to the kitchen to heed the hints. I heated the oven, whisked, poured, whirled, and then swirled homemade fluff into a chocolate dough. I crushed whole-grain graham crackers and sprinkled them over the swirls. I watched as the warm oven solidified the textures into a magical campfire cookie. I tried to savor the moment - the warm kitchen, the chocolatey smell, the way he smiled after the first taste test.
The internet is ablaze with ideas for holiday cookie boxes, which require careful packing and shipping. Though this makes for a beautiful snail mail surprise, it does diminish the appeal of the assembly. However, with a vintage crate or a pretty tray, you can take a similar idea and enjoy the sweet bounty in person.
I meant to share these photos and this Dutch Christmas Bread recipe last year, but as so often happens, I was busy, and the season passed too quickly. However, as Christmas and Hanukah rolled around this year, I started reminiscing about the book and our brunch. The sentiment behind it felt even more meaningful after the major challenges of this year. It felt like this post was meant to be shared in 2020 all along.