Solution to Winter #1: Layering

Well, it finally happened, as I suppose it had to. It got cold. We enjoyed an exceptionally mild fall this year, one that lasted so long that I actually started to appreciate the briskness of a 58 degree day that some (weirdos) are so excited about. Usually when the temperature dips below 75 I turn against the environment entirely, seeing any kind of "sweater weather" as a mocking reminder of what is to come. But this year I had time to acclimatize, get to know and understand the fall, and take back my previous dismissal of it.

None of that matters now. It looks like the real cold weather is descending, with the knifey chill that characterizes Real Winter. Last March I swore that I would not tolerate another winter, and declared a plan to move to Argentina in January and beat the system. However, January is fast approaching and I have no tickets booked; it seems the plan will need to be revised. And because I know that with East Coast weather you don't get anything for free, I'm anticipating that the crippling cold will last a while, and I don't expect to go outside without feeling like I'm being stabbed until late June.

So, how to prepare for the worst? I've already dragged boxes of coats and hats from under my bed, and replaced them with swimsuits and inappropriate shoes. It's now time to consider the transition to make in the kitchen. My summer moratorium on warm foods of any kind ended several months ago, but now I'm looking for things that are truly enduringly warm, that act as internal space heaters hours after consumption when you've been forced to leave the warm cocoon of the kitchen. My first solution is what you get when you apply the logic of winter attire to cooking: lasagna.

A description of any well-constructed lasagna sounds like a bed you might want to jump into, and Chase did a very good job constructing one last night. The layers of ground turkey stewed with tomatoes and spinach were made very cozy by pillowy pockets of ricotta and frilly pasta scarves. It was the best comfort food possible on a rainy day - when it came out of the oven bubbling, we were comforted by the knowledge that the heat from the lava-like cheese would keep radiating in our stomachs until at least the next afternoon.

Last night's dessert was also based on the concept of layering, and additionally on the principle of a “whiskey jacket,” although I used rum because it tastes much better. I bought a bag of excitingly affordable pfeffernüse cookies a few weeks ago in the hope that they would taste like mini-lebkuchen, but unfortunately they did not, and instead were unpleasantly stale and chewy. But since they were spiced very nicely with lots of anise, and the only problem was texture, I decided they should be put to use in some kind of liquid-soaked dessert. Because of its alcoholic sting and abundance of raisins, I never liked the elaborate trifle that my grandmother would make every Christmas, but now that my taste buds have matured I enjoy the memory of it retroactively, and the idea of a moist and gingery pfeffernüsse version seemed promising.

Of course, I inevitably simplified things. A food semanticist would probably refuse to call my creation a trifle; it would qualify as a parfait at best. Lacking a trifle dish and the desire to make anything as complicated as custard, I crumbled pfeffernüsse in the bottom of a reusable take-out container and sprinkled them with a few tablespoons of rum. Then I chopped two pears and simmered them in some orange juice and another splash rum, and poured the fruit over the cookies. The dish went in the fridge to cool while we ate lasagna, and when decided to move on from savory things I took it out and topped it with whipped cream (yes, from a can) and a dusting of nutmeg. The pfeffernüsse had melted into a velvety pudding consistency, and their flavor tasted even better without the distracting staleness. Their Christmas-y spices paired perfectly with the pears and cream, and the bite from the rum balanced the sweetness of the rest of the ingredients.

If every night of winter involved such festive spices and dense, cheesy casseroles, the whole thing might be tolerable. Last night certainly gave me the hope and motivation to keep thinking of Solutions to Winter.