Last year Kris and Tom introduced us to a new tradition: Reading “A Christmas Memory” by Truman Capote. We vowed to make it an annual occasion. For 2012, we passed the book around at Kris and Tom’s house, reading it between sips Tom’s terrific glogg, and then had a delicious supper of ham and scalloped potatoes.
Kris and Tom’s big, beautiful tree:
Irene and Kris:
Fried oysters!
Celery stuffed with cheese:
Scalloped, cheesey goodness and the ham that Tom’s friend cured and smoked himself:
We contributed an arugula salad:
Pretty table:
Fruitcake from Balthazar. Dense and delicious.
Merry Christmas.
“And when that happens, I know it. A message saying so merely confirms a piece of news some secret vein had already received, severing me from an irreplaceable part of myself, letting it loose like a kite string. That is why, walking across a school campus on this particular December morning, I keep searching the sky. As if I expected to see, rather like hearts, a lost pair of kites hurrying towards heaven.”
