Things I'm Absolutely NOT Interested in: a List

- Your detailed story about your ‘problematic journey’ here. Just say you are sorry you were late. Maybe mention train delays or traffic but move on. NO ONE cares about the minutia. Literally no one.

- Your birth video. (Put it away, Karen)

- Small talk. (Oh my God. My version of hell is an endless cocktail party of small talk and no alcohol to ease the burdens of said small talk and also, it’s so so hot in this windowless cocktail party room, and also there’s no ice in the non-alcoholic drinks because it’s hell)

- Racism / Fascism / Hate / Violence. (Obviously)

- The episodes of Murder She Wrote that Angela Lansbury introduces, but is not in. (Sorry Dennis Stanton, I like you, but not enough.)

- Hallmark (specifically, Christmas) movies.

- Curated Instagram feeds

- Perfection

- Cancel culture.

- Green peppers. (Life is too short and listen to me: I’m not disgusted by them, this isn’t cottage cheese, but I will not eat a pepper so stop putting them in literally everything)

- BUFFETS. (Especially post COVID? I mean OHMYGOD. I know I just said I’m against Cancel Culture but can we agree that buffets are now canceled?)

- How much you did or did not pay for [INSERT THING HERE] you now own.

- Photos of sourdough starter

- Karaoke.

- Discussing mine OR your dietary restrictions at length (meaning, for longer than the 60 seconds it takes to prevent either one of us from dying), and certainly with any level of sincerity. (LET ME LIVE, KAREN!!)

- Going on a cruise. As a passenger. As a performer. As a HUMAN.     
    Don’t ask me. Don’t come for me. It’s never going to happen.
    In fact, my mother and I have code language for emergencies— meaning, say, we have been kidnapped. Or we are “ready to check out of this life” and would like the other to casually “look away.” (I know this sounds a little ghoulish but honestly, everyone should have emergency and end-of-life conversations way before it’s a reality but I digress…)
    ANYWAY, my mother’s code phrase is “AL? I AM GOING ON A CRUISE!” And why is that her code phrase? Because there is NO UNIVERSE in which my mother or my sane self would EVER willingly go on a cruise without being held at gunpoint, and thus, the declaration of her going on a cruise MUST be an indicator of an emergency.

- What you think of me.

- ROMPERS.

Newlyweds

Grigory had tried. He really had.

Eva, being the premature bride she was, had been given the benefit of the doubt more times than her wonderfully patient husband cared to recognize; and patience came easily, for her overall manner was so utterly mild, agreeable, pleasant.

But all of this turned to mud when it came to the matter of her appalling cooking. It stands to reason that all Jewish women live and breathe to cook, yes? They never get tired of stirring and peeling and kneading and chopping. They go to sleep at night spooning the crock-pots, and awake each morning to find a skillet under their pillow and a rainbow arching serenely, magnanimously, over the stove. But the truth is, there were many days when Eva would have done anything to avoid the culinary perils of her kitchen. Anything. Hit-herself-over-the-head-with-the-aforementioned-skillet-from-under-the-pillow anything. Anything.

For the first few years of their marriage, Eva had many of those days. At first, she thought it was because of her recent run of bad secular recipes: she had trouble with preparations, non-kosher foods that seemed not only foreign but forbidden. She felt pornographic palpitations when handling dairy and meat on the same chopping board, and lost concentration removing the tails from shellfish, or chopping fine pieces of streaky bacon. Her palpitations notwithstanding, she jumped in with both feet, (for, as her mother had always said, if one is going to eat pork, one might as well eat a belly-full). Nonetheless, it was a challenge to feel enthusiastic about cooking after she had botched a number of meals in a row. And, by a number, one means to say, all.

Grigory, however, bless his sanguine heart, believed that she was still capable of redemption, and went about staging something resembling an intervention. He told Eva, quite simply, that she had to stop buying loaves of bread and pre-prepared vegetable dishes from the green-grocer and passing them off as her own. Eva nodded solemnly. Not long after, she successfully made her very own loaf of dark rye. The next day, she made soup[1]. Progress.

* * *

Eva’s challenges were not simply cultural and dietary; she had considered herself to be the passive victim of Sarah's natural ease in the kitchen, and, having identified her deficiency quite early, had somehow always skillfully managed to hand the majority of actual cooking duties over to her sisters. Eva claimed she was more of a food preparation sort of a creature: she cut the carrots, kneaded the dough, chopped the onions, slyly handing these things over to those who knew what in the world to do with them.

She thought her approach stealthy, and believed it would serve her a few more years, and indeed it might have. Had she remained in the shtetl, these shortcomings would have revealed themselves in due course, and their ever-insistent mother would have, with vigorous severity, whipped her flightiest daughter in to a cook one could at the very least describe as solid. Unfortunately for everyone’s sanity and general digestive health, Mother never got that chance. And perhaps regardless of missed opportunities, Mother’s efforts might have been in vain, because for Grigory, it was Eva’s knowledge of exclusively Jewish cuisine that proved the initial barrier during their first few months together.

First off there was cholent. This combination of noxious gases had been the secret weapon of Jews for centuries, and the unique combination of beans, barley, potatoes, and bones or meat was meant to stick to your ribs and anything else it came into contact with. His wife attempted something unusual for their first house guests: She made cholent “steaks” for Sunday night supper. The guests never came back.

Next there was kugel, which, although usually considered a dessert of some description, Eva chose to prepare as a savoury main dish. “The very first kugels were savoury, you know!” she informed him, proudly plopping the heavy dish down before him, expectancy in her eyes. The dish heaved a plethora of noodles, onions and salt and was, apparently, meant to be edible at room temperature, which, Grigory discovered to his grave disappointment, was not entirely the case. As the weeks progressed, Eva, inspired, skipped the noodles, and substituted everything from potatoes, to matzah, to cabbage, carrots, spinach and even to cheese for the base. Grigory soldiered on, with love.

Finally, there was kreplach, which sounded much worse than it tasted. Eva informed him with a certain frenzied air that it could be soft, hard, or soggy, and the amount of meat inside its sturdy folds depended upon whether your mother or your mother-in-law had cooked it! She laughed maniacally at her own joke, but Grigory was too frightened to laugh—both at his wife and the soggy mess before him. Yet, despite Griogry’s attempts at pretense, and despite Eva’s valiant efforts, he never succeeded in fooling her, and she never succeeded in feeding him. Every meal ended with an emotional meltdown.

The truth was, Eva longed to provide for Grigory, to be his perfect partner in life. So complete was this longing that she focused her overall value to Griogry exclusively on her command of the kitchen, forgetting her virtues entirely in favor of the crippling solitude of self-flagellation[2]. She would therefore burst in to a fit of childish temper if he attempted to assist, teach, or comfort her.
It was beyond them both.
He didn’t have a prayer.


[1] Eva made Ukha soup. Ukha is a warm, watery fish dish, though calling it a “fish soup” would not be completely correct. Beginning from the 15th century, fish was more frequently used to prepare ukha, ergo creating a dish that had a distinctive taste, but Ukha as a name for fish broth was established only in the late 17th to early 18th centuries, prior to which the name was given to thick meat broths, then later chicken. Today it is more often a fish soup (prepared with preferably freshwater fish), cooked with potatoes and other vegetables. Chava’s attempt at Ukha, for what it is worth, was tremendously noxious and tasted of feet. At least she had tried.

[2] Well, you can take the girl out of the shtetl…

I've Been: Summer 2016

Ahhh The Hamptons...

- Performing on the Tony Awards. Dreams comes true.

- Indulging in adult learning thanks to The Great Courses on Audible.com

- Exploring NYC

- Weekending in The Hamptons. Casual. 

- Visiting with beloved old friends

- Reveling in the magic of my new (and scarcely plausible) two-book-deal from Pegasus Books.

- Dreaming of a possible life in the country...

- Meeeeelting in the NYC summer heat

- Turning 33


- Eating more watermelon than should be legal 

- Sharing and collaborating in art with people that matter to me

- Celebrating the courage and genius of my new but soulmate-of-a-friend friend Megan Kane...

- Switching from iced coffee to iced green tea. Yum!

At Google with Melanie Moore

- Standing on top of New York City at the Google building with baby sister Melanie Moore...

- Singing

-  Walking walking walking
 
- Reading more than ever (It’s only July and this year I’ve already read about 140 books—Lordy loo, and thank you Audible!) Some faves:

• Mastery by Robert Greene
• Salmon Fishing in the Yemen by Paul Torday
• Contagious by Jonah Berger
• Grit by Angela Duckworth
• A Little History of Philosophy by Nigel Warburton
• The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (finally! I'd never read it!)
• Hope: A Tragedy by Shalom Auslander
• The Story of Human Language by Prof. John McWhorter (from The Great Courses)
• Loving What Is by Byron Katie

 - Having dinner between our Broadway shows with two of my childhood acting idols Peter Scolari and Judy Kaye. (If you had told my 16-year-old self that one day they would be beloved friends and colleagues, I never would have believed you...) 

- Giving authentic interviews that with incredible journalists. Interviews can often be a little silly, often very fun, but these have actually reflected who I am inside, and it means the world to me:

• AOLBuild Series with Laura Heyward
• Broadway Radio (probably the most in-depth and heartfelt interview of my career)



our "Sister-versary!"

• Show People for Broadway.com

- Mentoring

- Rumbling with my health. (Really rumbling.)

- Celebrating one year of being "Tevye's Daughters!"

- Treating the "difficult" people in my life as teachers

- Loving Tatiana more every day

- Re-evaluating ev-er-y-thing...

- Basking in the glory of S U M M E R ...

Summer. Word.

A Letter

Dear Peanut Butter,

It's time.

Love

Jelly

Things I love about Michigan

I'm going back today-- "far away from haaaarm. With a milk pail on my arrrrrrm...." Here are just a few things I love about The Glove.

Basics:
Spring
Summer
Fall
Winter!

Most people have a built-in Michigan map. (have you taught James Earl Jones the "Glove Love" handshake...? Um... because I have. He loved it. HE GLOVE LOVED IT...)

Michigan is the cradle of the Industrial Revolution!

The 'Motown Sound' and the 'Motown Era' are major landmarks in musical history.


Oddities:
Michigan celebrates Fat Tuesday with jelly doughnuts (aka Paczki)

I need everyone to just breathe: Big Beaver Road. Believe it.

Toll free expressways

The "Michigan U" turn--this is a right turn onto a boulevard followed by an immediate u-turn at the next available crossover. (This keeps traffic from backing up at intersections with boulevards.)

"Euchre." What the hell is that you ask? Well that is a card game which is popular in Michigan and seemingly, no where else. (Oh alright, perhaps parts of Ohio. Fine.)

U-pick blueberries
U-pick peaches
U-pick apples
Mushroom hunting!
Roadside stands for fruits and veggies.
and, of course,
Cherries (Traverse City is The Cherry Capitol of The World doncha know!)


Restaurants:
The Whistle Stop
Greek Islands
Olga's
Max and Erma's


Michigan Products:
Better Made Potato Chips
Michigan maple syrup
Vernor's
Kilwin’s Ice Cream and Fudge: Look. They make their own waffle cones (need I say more?) which are definitely the best I’ve had. Kilwin's waffle cone with Mackinaw Island Fudge ice cream? ...You can then die.
Faygo
Sander's Hot Fudge.... ohmygoodnessgoogleitrightnow


Institutes:
The Detroit Zoo (especially the breath-taking butterfly exhibit)
Cranbrook's Greek Theatre, Planetarium, and institute for the arts. Heaven.
of course - Interlochen Center for the Arts
The Henry Ford Museum
and Greenfield Village
The Detroit Institute of Arts - voted the most "visitor friendly" Museum in. the. country. Wow! Go.
The Franklin Cider Mill


Special Places:
Two words: Mackinac Island (If you seek it, you can still find the original quaint and old-world charm of beautiful Mackinac Island - especially if you stay overnight.)
and Mackinac Island fudge. 
Taquamenon Falls (a.k.a. "Root Beer Falls).
Frankenmuth!
The Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes


Nature:
Breathtaking nature and beauty throughout the state.
Lakes. So many lakes (and the whole lake culture *thing.* )...
Lots of camping and places for outdoor activities.
Unbelieveable clouds, almost every day.
Michigan has more lighthouses along its shorelines than any other state!
and
Sunsets you will never forget...

And I think this says it best. So say Yes to Michigan!

Yellow Dessert: An Aversion

Yummy?! What LIES.

[WARNING: Please prepare yourself for unabashed opinions regarding all things to do with bananas, lemons, custard, quite often meringue, and I am sorry to say it, vanilla cake.]
...

[No. Seriously, take a moment for yourself.]

All good? Okay. Here it goes.

Reader?

I HATE YELLOW DESSERT.

[...She ducks her head. She looks up... Checks her surroundings. She pauses.]

....aaaaare you okay? ...Do you need another minute?

Banana?! YUCK!

Look. I am sorry. But in truth, if you are going to do dessert, don't you think you need to do dessert at 100%? You need to be in the 95-100% certainty category of enthusiasm, you need to be able to say "YES. I want that, I need that, and I am going to savor every mouthful-- every freakin' second of that delectable dessert otherwise what are you doing? WHAT. ARE. YOU. DO-ING?

It’s funny — as a child, no one ever notices desserts being trendy, (one just notices dessert, and perhaps that it is either good or not so good, and that you won't even tolerate lemon Starbursts and feel grateful your Dad likes them best...). But for the past year, this yellow dessert business has been everywhere--the new “it” dessert, the stylish old-but-new thing every hip person pretending not to eat carbs wants to be seen consuming.

It has come crawling out of the woodwork like tropical pests on a mission to contaminate the dessert cart, leaving respectable berry crumbles, apple pies and chocolate tortes cowering in horror. I know that yellow dessert has been around as long as bananas have! I know that! It's just that yellow dessert appears to be all the flippin' rage right now and one cannot get away from it. [She narrows her eyes with suspicion, a look of having eaten something disgusting all over her as she recalls a recent lemon meringue pie peer pressure forced feeding situation...]

You can KEEP your Lemon atrocity!!

The thing is-- I like bananas just fine. They are great. I enjoy lemons. Delicious. I have an intimate relationship with vanilla. I have nothing against fruit! I respect fruit!

But if you are going to spend the calories and time and energy on that extra course, I just don't understand why you would waste that special moment on something the same color as a legal note pad! As the middle traffic light! As Sponge Bob Square Pants...

Give me a break.
And basically let that break be made of crumble or chocolate.

Things My 5 Senses Love: A List

Tastes
Coffee
Anything Oliver Friendly cooks.
Sea salt
Ice cold watermelon. (A whole one. Just for me. No sharing. Okay maybe a little sharing...just a touch...)
pure, pure water

Sights
Piles of books
Lemons
Nick Bantock's art work (and company, but that is not so much a sight, I'm trying to be terribly strict here!)
Early morning sunshine
old photographs
dappled sunlight through the leaves
The extraordinarily blinding colo(u)rs in nature

Sounds
Meaningful conversations
The sea
Trains
Lilly playing the oboe
The laughter of people I love

Feels/Touches
Holding hands (particularly with long time favo[u]rite hand-holding partner David Fetzer)
Holding on to anyone you love
My childhood stuffed animals
The cool side of the pillow

Smells
Rosemary / Lavender / Peppermint in noparticularorder
Café Hula in Glasgow
Fresh Michigan air (especially after the rain)

...and you...?

"Zebra's Walk" ©Nick Bantock

Det. Alexandra Eames' advice to Alexandra Silber

go on... have a cookie...because you are tall...

[At rise: me on the set of Law & Order: Criminal Intent sitting across from Kathryn Erbe who plays Detective Alexandra Eames. It has been a long day. And now there are freshly baked chocolate chip cookies sitting at the food table and the odo(u)r is wafting our way...]

Kathryn Erbe: Cookies! [she turns around with glee] Are you gonna have a cookie?
Me: They have cookies again? [They had cookies yesterday-- is this heaven?!]
KE: They have them every day. And they are hot. And delicious.
Me: I missed them yesterday...
KE: Well, then you should have one today!
Me: I dunno... [I am thinking of myself in these ill-fitting jeans for all the world to see... in HD...]
KE: ["Cookies are serious business" voice] You should have a cookie. You are young.... [she is deadpan] and tall...
Me: ...Okay...
KE: Please. For me.
Me: I promise.
KE: Thank you.


Cookie consumed.

I've Been...

the orphans' feast...

Re-booking (Whoop!) my solo cabaret show "London Still" at the swishy swanky incredible New York Nightclub Feinsteins. Join me on December 26th, 2010 and January 4, 2011!

...Ooo! Not to mention, "London Still"'s Los Angeles debut on January 9, 2011 at the renowned Catalina Jazz Club

Totally hono(u)red by an Ovation Award Nomination for Best Leading Actress in a Musical for Julie Jordan in Reprise's production of Carousel. Congratulations to Carousel for it's whopping seven nominations and to Reprise Theatre Company for it's ten total nods including Best Season! (PS) a great big special congratulations to fellow category nominee and longtime London friend Lara Pulver for her beautiful portrayal of Lucille Frank in Parade. I'm so so hono(u)red to be nominated alongside this beautiful person and artist!)

having some serious deep-and-meaningfuls with faraway friends. (Thank you Skype!)

...enjoying love.

Giving thanks in America for the first time in NINE years at The First Annual Orphans Feast (hosted by dear old, and very dear New York friend Kevin: The Red Strider and myself: Nachnaya Sava)!

...and thus, cooking. Some serious fracking cooking (sauteed brussel sprouts with bacon and home-made cream sauce anyone?).

...and, making some beautiful new friends in such a seemingly precarious holiday environment. Thanksgiving was so so moving as a result of our communal effort and Kevin's generosity with his home and hospitality. 

*

Auditioning for my friends
and
Auditioning with one of my oldest friends....
   ...for three leading roles in one show...

Re-g r o w i n g my fingernail (it is all X-files under this plaster let. me. tell. YOU...)

Walking in the park and The Socrates Sculpture Garden in Astoria (a hidden gem!)

Learning about

Getting healthy

Making peace with the past

A heavenly road trip to The City of Brotherly Love
     which included a trip to the Magic Garden
          a night at the theatre
               and an amazing catch-up meal with my very best high-school friends

Creating beautiful beautiful music with the amazing (and GRAMMY©-nominated!) Andy Einhorn

Getting my new "apartment" sorted out! (how Ameeeeeerican)
     Painting the walls
          and hanging a bazillion pictures

and generally becoming a New York Girl...yo...

realizing I have the best friends on earth-- and trying to cultivate that love and make that garden grow.

Kicking my novel's ass!

Spending the weekend with the AMAZING Oliver and Alexandra Friendly

Celebrating John Cullum’s 50th anniversary on Broadway with The Scottsboro Boys

Holiday decorating! (plus incredible Hanukkah gatherings and a full-Christmas in New York!)

. . . falling . . .

Yeah, yeah I hear you...

...Yeah. 
Yeah. I hear you.
I hear you Nutritionist Lady. 
But look:
There are over 5 jars of Peanut Butter for any possible occasion in the cupboard and...

...

... Sorry, what was that? Be specific? 

Well there's 
toast, 
     sandwich, 
          spoon, 
               celery 
                    apple
                         and cracker. 

Some people drink, some smoke, some people go crazy with chocolate or sweets or cheese... but basically peanut butter is my thing. It is like being a wine connoisseur. I'm a peanut butter connoisseur. Self proclaimed, yes, but a devotee and expert nonetheless. 

And I'm okay with that. 


So I respect where you are coming from but it's just not going to happen...

Liarberry

Remain calm. 

As you read this please know that the story ends well. It ends with me going to a different grocery establishment altogether. It ends with me at home eating the one, the only, the superior, the very best of all jams-- raspberry jam.

So.
Don't be alarmed.
Keep calm and carry on.

*

[At rise: Al does a quick late night shop at her local Astoria grocery establishment. It is nearly closing time on a Sunday night, and Al has realized that she, as usual, does not really have any food in the house aside from pickles. This is an emergency journey to the store. There is hunger within her and the clock is ticking...]

Al: Carrots-- check. Celery-- check. Giant thing of hummus-- check...

[she continues down the aisles placing essentials in her basket. She ignores the Halloween candy. Halloween is her favorite holiday-- Halloween candy is the perfect size. She ignores the Halloween candy with a pang. She quickly decides between Ryvita or Wassa crispbread. She picks up recycled paper towels thinking "one good replaces one bad?" as she indulges in a longing glance at the artisan cheeses and keeps walking...]

Loudspeaker: Attention customers. The time is now 9:45 and this store will be closing in 15 minutes. Please bring your final purchases to the checkout. Thank you.

['OhmigodIamnotnearlyfinishedwerenotevenattheyoghurtsection' she thinks. She prioritizes; and rushes to the all important peanut butter and jam aisle. She selects her peanut butter. And then she sees it. There are rows and rows of jam. Strawberry, Blackberry, Grape, Marmalade, Apricot. There are many brands. But not a single jar of raspberry. She pauses. She takes it in. She breathes. She nearly blacks out...]

Loudspeaker: Ladies and gentleman the time is now 9:55 and this store is closing in 5 minutes. Please bring all final purchases to the checkout immediately.

[Al sees a grocery employee and practically tackles him]

Al: Excuse me! Um, you seem to be out of raspberry jam.

Grocery Employee: Right. Well, it is the end of the day. On Sunday. We'll have more tomorrow.
Al: I understand that but-- don't you have any in the back at all?
Grocery Employee: [unimpressed] I don't know.
Al: Well... would you mind checking?
Grocery Employee: ...seriously?
Al: Yes?
Grocery Employee: Look there is a jar of redberry flavor right here. And I hear it is pretty good. It is basically the same. Red berry, it is a flavor but maybe you should just get it? I mean there are only 5 minutes...

[Al is flabbergasted-- 'Redberry'?!! ExCUSE me?]

Al: Eh... no, thank you.

[She proceeds to the checkout without this 'Redberry' monstrosity and proceeds directly to a smaller all-night shop and finds exactly what she needs. Peanut butter plus raspberry jam plus Wassa crispbread = DELICIOUS... Evening complete.]

FIN

*

Forgive me but this faux "Redberry" concoction has no business being a jam. And I resent it being foist upon me. Even with 5 minutes left of the work day, even with both sugar free and alternative berry options.

Redberry is not a berry.
It is a liar berry.
A liarberry if you will.
And oh I will...
 
. . . Don't mess with my jam... just don't. . .

Small Pleasures: A List, Part 1

1.    Colo(u)ring (ohhhh yes, grown-ups can do it, too)
2.    White, super fluffy towels
3.    Soft skin
4.    Great stories
5.    Sleeping in, then staying in your pajamas all. day.
6.    An exercise endorphin high
7.    Window boxes (preferably filled with colorful blooms and/or delicious smelling herbs)
8.    The perfect cup of coffee (often with a nice bit of foam atop it with a lovingly sprinkled cocoa design)
9.    Waking up truly rested.
10.    Singing in the shower without catching yourself out for feeling stupid (you wouldn't believe how hard it is for me to sing around the house, or in the shower, or for pleasure, simply because it is my job. It used to bring me such joy...[shocked face] Oof...that should get explored...)
11.    Finding a forgotten money in your pocket! Especially when it has been laundered and is extra crispy
12.    The sound of ferocious, pelting rain— especially against windows… especially in the morning…
13.    Your softest, most beloved, most delicious t-shirt

14.    Holding hands. A friend of mine just last week told me I was a “hand holding whore”— I informed him I never accepted payment for hand holding. I am not fickle! I simply loved to hold hands with anyone who would allow me the pleasure. I have one friend with whom my hand holding has been exceptionally satisfying. David Fetzer (of Salt Lake City) and I discovered that our hands were particularly suited to one another’s in Directing class at Interlochen in 1999. When we held hands the fit was so tremendous it was as if you could hear the hermetical seal occur! The noise of suction! The satisfaction of what truly was a perfect fit!  I believe I even made a mold of my hand for his senior gift so he could always have it. (The creepiness of that just occurred to me but at the time it was sort of sweet I suppose.) He recently surprised me at the stage door of Carousel and before we even exchanged words we held up our hands, intertwined the fingers, made the suction noise and held hands for a moment… it was utterly amazing. So. Hold hands. It’s the best.
15.    A genuine compliment (giving or receiving)
16.    Slow dancing
17.    A handwritten letter.
18.    Genuinely laughing… Hard.
19.    The movie theater rituals (including film selection, cinema popcorn, seat selection, ice lollies, and pick-n-mix not to be eaten until after the previews...)
20.    Playing hookey!
21.    A great bath
22.    Swimming for pleasure (which for me involves a great deal of face-down floating)
23.   Cheesy, uplifting films
24.  Fountain soda. I mean, a fizzy beverage is just the most refreshing and delicious thing in all the world. With heaps of ice and a colorful straw. I mean oh my word can you imagine anything else closer to beverage perfection?
25.    THAT favorite song

I've been:

watching my best and oldest friend Arielle get married to an incredible man

spending time in my favourite place on earth: MICHIGAN

...with some of my oldest friends (Ben, Alex, Arielle, Doug and Lilly)

...and favorite teachers (David, Robin, Lady Chu)

making smores at a bonfire on Lake Michigan

...and being The Keeper of the Marshmallows

walking along the shoreline of Grand Traverse Bay with Lilly: trousers rolled up, shoes in hand, and realizing our lives are paralleled....

wishing I could live in Michigan

wondering what in the world I am going to do with my life

and making grand plans

and trying to find a place to live

in such terrible, unutterable emotional pain worse than any I have known before (including a certain loss...)

but regardless, working through it...

being reminded by previously mentioned wedding that true love heals many things

being reminded how much I love HOME and cannot/will not live without it

being reminded by previously mentioned friends that I and my friendship is of value

crying... a lot...and not the professional kind...

planning and preparing for The Great Russian Adventure (eek!)

listen to The Interlochen Theme and coming to the realization that camp is where the magic happened...

walking up and down far too many airport travel lounges.

mistaking the American dime for the English 5p... a LOT...

Exchanging stories, gorgeous food and child's laughter with Lady Chu and her amazing family. Look what a lifetime of letters can do!

loved and loving

basking in the glow of a frozen strawberry yogurt from the totally unchanged Melody Freeze, which still costs one beautiful dollar

getting sentimental because strawberry frozen yogurt tastes of childhood

realising the universe works in mysterious ways: Lilly and I, best friends who live in Santiago and London, run in to one another at Interlochen without even realizing we would be there at the same time... just when we needed one another...

trying to stand.

Gratitudes 27-50

27. Thunder & Lightning
28. Lazy days with duvets and books
29. Toast (mmmmmm....)
30. Peanut butter
31. Jam (Of the insert-the-berry-here variety)
32. Cheese
33. Good conversation
34. Fresh fruit
35. Michigan
36. Beautiful snow
37. Clouds
38. RSAMD
39. David & Robin
40. Louise, for finding and believing...
41. Merrily We Roll Along for the moment I knew...
42. Liz, Kate, Anne, Susan, and Rosie, and for that matter all those who taught me things the hard way...
43. The book
44. My students
45. My teachers (sometimes the same people...)
46. Candles
47. Hodel
48. David, Stephen, Stephen, Simon, Sonia, Trevor, Andrew and Kennedy for changing my life...
49. Ruthie
50. The miracle of water...

Gratitudes 1-25

This is a list of 100... just in case you are wondering...

1. Health
2. Serendipity
3. My Mom
4. My Dad
5. The orange cat
6. Interlochen
7. Mornings
8. Fresh air
9. New perspectives
10. Rosie - for reminding me that you should always trust your instincts...
11. Lilly
12. JNF
13. Jessica
14. Arielle
15. Michael -- all of whom are TRUE best friends.
16. Teaching
17. Singing
18. Glasgow
19. All my talents and gifts to which I feel so overwhelmingly grateful
20. Creativity
21. Russia
22. Rain
23. Light through the leaves
24. The smell of freshly cut lemons
25. Magical umbrellas

Raindrops on Roses

These are a few of my favourite things.
Another list.
I like lists.
In fact, let that be number one...

1. Lists
The virtue of lists (versus a list of virtues...) is infinite. I could list them but then, it might all seem a bit too frightening. Like a vortex sucking us in on ourselves. But lists are a magical thing. Everyday parlance is littered with lists: laundry, grocery, honey-do. "Enough organization, enough lists and we think we can control the uncontrollable," observed one of the faceless unendurably attractive assistants on the TV show House. By now you would think there are enough lists, but still we keep jotting things down in an orderly fashion. So why do I love lists? Aside from the obvious virtues of helping us remember things, keep us from procrastination, relieving stress and freeing the mind; lists bring order to the chaos. "People are attracted to lists because we live in an era of over stimulation, especially in terms of information," says David Wallechinsky, a co-author of the fabulous Book of Lists. "And lists help us in organizing what is otherwise overwhelming." Moreover, lists are finite. They don't usually go on and on. And if they do, you can skip to the bottom of the list. The Internet Movie Database, for instance, lists its "bottom 100 movies as voted by users." (Incidentally, the winner —er, loser —is Zaat, a 1975 sci-fi fiasco). But most important of all? Lists can be meaningful. Who hasn't jotted down the pros and cons? Who hasn't listed the many ways we love someone? Or listed our favourite films, favourite songs, our favourite moments with a person, 25 random things about ourselves? The list, as they say, goes on...

2. The Tate Modern
While my love for what's inside sometimes waxes and wanes, my love for the building itself never dies (For love, my friends, does MANY things... it "changes everything", for example. But as ALW is about to show us in some spectacular of mind-blowing proportions, IT NEVER DIES...) It is so open and welcoming and embracing. The space (though, admittedly, difficult to get to on public transport) is a jewel inviting you to discover the treasures within, or lounge on it's lawn in the sunlight, or simply to enjoy the view in it's cafe with a glass of curiosity cola. Go Tate Modern. You are a thing of beauty unto yourself. And I don't care if I am the only one who can see it. (PS. Oh yes, and it is FREE... what is friendlier than free?)

3. Watermelon
Ahhhhh FOOD PERFECTION... Alright. I admit it: I am watermelon obsessed. I shamelessly gulp down this fruit in all forms. A storehouse of vitamins and minerals, watermelons keep your heart and nervous system in blooming health. It's juicy, sweet, and succulent. Rich in Vitamin A, Vitamin B6, Vitamin B1, Vitamin C, and healthy fibers, lycopene and antioxidants, I look forward to watermelon season every year, and have mastered (with the guidance and Shaman-esque teachings of my fellow watermelon obsessed mother) the art of selecting the perfect fruity specimen by "THWACKING" it (if you will) in the customary Silber manner and listening for the ever-magical CRACK of a "good one." Ohhhhhhh the CRACK of a "good one." How melodious. How intoxicating. The essence of summer.

(Note: Art related to the Mexican holiday Dia de los Muertos commonly depicts watermelons being eaten by the dead or shown in close conjunction with the dead. This theme appears regularly on ceramics and in other art from the holiday. Watermelons also appear as a subject in Mexican still life art. Weird. Love that.)

4. Breakfast for dinner
I could eat it EVERY. DAY. Why is all breakfast food so incredible? Brioche, oatmeal with fruit or raisins, cereal: the best food in the world, scrambled eggs with salmon, paaaaaaaancaaaaaakes, omelets, sausage, bacon, toast toast toast... the list is endless! Breakfast for dinner: nothing better.

5. Peanut Butter
[Details here.]

6. Owls
When I first met my friend R's kids, the oldest thought my name was not in fact Al, but OWL. It stuck. When I call R, OWL SILBER comes up. I love it. I love it because I have always loved owls. This winter Paperchase did an Owl design that I spent a FORTUNE on. I inwardly squealed when I passed the shop on The Strand and whilst shoveling owl merchandise into a basket, immediately phoned R who requested a set of Owl eggcups. It was a moment of madness...

But my love of the owl is not merely aesthetic or sentimental, it runs deeper. There is a sort of global reverence for the Owl. The witch's companion (famously accompanying the likes of Merlin and Harry Potter, as well as dwelling in the Hundred Acre Wood), the owl is deeply connected with magic, wisdom, intuition, education, messages, longevity and heightened senses throughout the ages. What's not to like? They are majestic as well as whimsical, and I like the hours they keep (us theatrical types share the same secret powers of the night...)

In some middle and far eastern cultures, the owl is a sacred guardian of the afterlife, ruler of the night, a seer and keeper of souls transitioning from one plane of existence to another. The ancient Greeks attributed the owl to Athena, goddess of wisdom and foresight. This symbol was used on Greek coins and therefore also became associated with wealth. Native Americans attributed owls with wisdom and sacred knowledge. The shaman would call upon Owl medicine for insight into the truth of ill-intent. Plains Indians wore owl feathers to protect against evil spirits. West African and Aboriginal Australian cultures also saw the owl as a messenger of secrets, and companions to medicine people. In the Celtic tradition, the owl (cailleach-oidhche), represents wisdom, clairvoyance, stealth, initiation, change and detachment. Always aware of its surroundings, the owl uses intuition courageously, with insight into hidden truth, and a guide between earth creatures and Underworld deities.

The owl’s gift of heightened senses enables it to see through deception, external appearances and illusion and to discover hidden truths. (Appparently, if you are drawn to owls or owl symbolism, you may have this same ability to uncover secrets. People may feel uneasy around you, as if you are able to see through pretence). The owl also teaches us to acknowledge the dark side of our personality, and in that darkness we may find a source for growth.

7. Leon (addicted to their organic brown rice and glorious coleslaw that accompany any hot dish. And of course, their low GI brownies with dark Valhrona chocolate and ground almonds and fruit sugar instead of ordinary flour and sugar. (They believe you can have your cake and eat it... and I love them for believing that...)

8. Guerrilla Poetry
Let me explain... I love to leave little poems written on snatches of napkin, say, in unexpected places for people to find. I love to think that perhaps it brightens some one's day to have found a napkin poem lying about waiting to be read.

9. Postcards
They are little magical gifts of beauty and sprightly correspondence. Send them! It takes but a moment to jot down a loving or whimsical message (perhaps a quote or piece of poetry?) I like to keep a few around with me at all times in my diary, in my bag, with postage pre-attached and ready to mail the second a burst of correspondence hits me! It is better than email, better than facebook, it is handwriting, it is "I-thought-of-you-and-sent-this-wrote-this-and-now-you-are-reading-it." Magic! Sometimes I make my own, and I also like to collect truly odd postcards and keep them in a little box with my art supplies or in a special wall-hanging thingy made for photographs. Sometimes for inspiration, at other times just for enjoyment.

10. Recycling
One of my objectives has always been green living and recycling has been a tricky one to crack. London doesn't make it easy, so I am one of those people who brings heaving, gigantic bags of tin cans, plastic bottles and heaps of paper to those vats provided outside the tube station. People stare at me on the bus. One time, someone stared while drinking a can of Fanta. When they were done drinking they threw it on the floor of the bus while making direct eye-contact with me. I picked up the can, shoved it in my giant earth-friendly bag and said "It's not madness, it's recycling. You're welcome."

Skippy Vs. Jif: A Tawdry Tale

America has had it's debates over the years, it's share of very public divides.

Do we or do we not secede from the Union?
Do we or do we not get involved in WW2?
Chocolate or Vanilla?
Pepsi or Coke?
Rachel or Monica?

But. I present you now with a controversy of cosmic import. I lay before you one of the most hotly debated issues in America:

Jif or Skippy?

I know, I know. One sounds like a bathroom "cream cleaner", the other like a benevolent fictional marsupial, but it is not the end of the dilemmas. Crucially, and perhaps even more importantly,

Smooth or Crunchy?

That's right. This is about peanut butter.
(Discuss...)


Now there is Reduced Fat Jif, Skippy Super chunky, Natural Skippy (with "no need to stir" which is a categorical LIE let me tell you)... the choices may never end. Will the debate only be made more heated and vehement? Will Skippy and Jif continue to divide our nation, continue to rip apart families by now offering MORE choices?! MORE opportunities for us to deviate from the simplest of all foods?!

Has there ever been an issue more contentious? Has there ever been a food so fiercely disputed? ... What was that?! ... I'm sorry, did you just say YOU DON'T KNOW?! Well, LISTEN! This is controversial food talk people, dust off your Debate Team jackets and break open your accordian files, spruce up your hand-me-down briefcases filled with sources and o-rings and note-cards and get ready to kick some peanut buttery ass because this is serious stuff. Don't take this lightly. That's right. Take it like a man...

Some of you out there might think that the two brands both have their virtues. That they are both synthetic vats of trans-fats and hydrogenated oils. That they are, frankly, extremely similar in most ways. And you might be correct.

But. Skippy vs. Jif is a true dilemma, people! Families have been torn apart, friendships ended, and states gone to battle over this crucial issue (in fact, speculation that the civil war was on the verge of re-ignition in the late 1970's due to a peanut butter misunderstanding between visiting relatives in Georgia is still yet to be determined).

So. Let's make a list shall we?

Skippy's virtues:
- Creamier texture,
- Great spread-a-bility (even in "Crunchy" PB)
- Melts to almost liquid on toast (which is dreeeeeeamy), thus "mixable" with jams/jellys
- Very light and (i.e., not too "heavy" in the savoury sense)
- Whimsical blue lid

Jif's virtues:
- Terriffic peanut(-ier) taste
- Great "biting" texture perfect for "off-the-spoon" consumption
- Sliiiiiightly sweeter (especially their Reduced Fat Jif, which has extra sweeteners in it)
- More and larger peanut pieces (in "Crunchy" PB)
- Whimsical red lid

Tawdry Points...

Jif takes the time to print a label that blantently plays upon one's ignorance. A few years ago the label listed this: "Made with no partially hydrogenated oils!" Intrigued, since Jif is a lowest-common-denominator PB that has always contained three lousy ingredients: refines salt, refined sugar and hydrogenated fat, one thinks to themselves, "How exciting! Jif got rid of the rapeseed oil! It will be less rancid and toxic and solid—both in the can and in my blood stream! Hurrah!"

Then one picks up the product and reads the label and it says, “Contains less than 2 percent fully hydrogenated oils (rapeseed).” Unbelievable. They’re bragging that they don’t have partially hydrogenated fats, because they have fully hydrogenated fats! I guess they’re hoping the "choosy moms" who buy the peanut butter are dumb enough not to investigate.

So. Jif. Liars.... Whatever.

But. BUT... no one, NO ONE I TELL YOU, can deny the fact that as far as stories go, Skippy's conception wins it with a tale of (ongoing!) seven-decade-long lawsuits, a comic strip, and an insane asylum. I mean.... please. That is amazing...

Via Wikipedia:

“Skippy” was first used as a trademark for peanut butter by the Rosefield Packing Co., Ltd., of Alameda, California, in 1933. Percy Crosby, creator of the “Skippy” comic strip, had the trademark invalidated in 1934, but Rosefield persisted after Crosby was committed to an insane asylum, and its successor companies, most recently Unilever, have been granted rights to the trademark over the objection of Crosby’s heirs. There has been much litigation on this point over the decades, some of which remains in progress.

Oh. WOW.
and, from the Associated Press:

Monday, April 5, 2004; 4:59 PM

ANNANDALE, Va. - For nearly 40 years Joan Crosby Tibbetts has waged a one-woman campaign against the makers of Skippy peanut butter, claiming the name was stolen from her father’s popular Depression-era comic strip. The U.S. Supreme Court ultimately refused to hear her suit against Skippy’s manufacturer, a division of the multinational conglomerate Unilever. But Tibbetts, 71, said she’ll continue her battle in the court of public opinion.

“This case involves a very important principle … ‘Thou shalt not steal,’” Tibbetts said Monday. “If this case is allowed to disappear and they succeed in shutting me up, who has won? These big corporations that believe they can just wear others down.”

Tibbetts’ crusade began in 1965 when the state of New York tasked her with administering her father Percy Crosby’s estate. She had not seen her father since 1939, when Crosby’s wife divorced him and took the children. Crosby died in December 1964, after spending the last 18 years of his life in a mental hospital, his cartoon character by then largely forgotten…

Her research led her to the conclusion that the trademark for Skippy peanut butter had been improperly obtained by the Rosefield Packing Co. She has waged her campaign ever since, a few episodes of success interspersed with endless legal wrangling and frustration.

She acknowledges crusade’s toll - financially, emotionally and physically. She also has been subject to nasty e-mail comments, including one writer who hoped she drowns in a giant vat of peanut butter.

So, there you have it people, what shall it be? The Red Lid, or The Blue? I will admit here and now, that I am a connoisseur, an aesthete, if you will, of both brands, grabbing "American" peanut butter where I can and when with glee in my heart and a spring in my step (not entirely unlike a certain superheroic kangaroo...)

Now.
Some might say that the crunchy/smooth debate is a matter of not only preference, but a matter of the specific use of PB. For me, I am of the latter party. Celery? It has to be crunchy. Sandwich? Creamy (with raspberry jam). Cookies? Creamy. Off the spoon? Crunchy in summer, creamy in winter. But all of that, it must be understood, is just me. This is something that must be decided within yourself, it is like choosing a religion, it has to be a spiritual calling of sorts... and I understand that some people are die-hard creamy/crunchy fans too-the-DEATH... and while naturally I respect your (possibly radical) adherence to your party of choice, I reserve the right to play, (as they say), for both teams... (hm...)

What does this say about The Silber? Perhaps simply, that she loves her peanut butter, and appreciates it in all it's forms and brands-- like fine cheeses or wines, The Silber appreciates the subtle complexities each brand and style of peanut butter can offer. She makes a judgment about the moment at hand, then utlises an appropraite sampling catered to that moment. She is not a creature of indecision or maliable loyalties, The Silber is a gastronome in the world of the pulverised peanut... an epicure... a specialist... a buff...

One might wonder why in this time of credit crunching, real-estate collapsing, apocalyptic economic crisis, swine flu, global warming and all around pessimism, just why one should take the time to ponder the intricacies of such a subject.

I riposte with this: isn't it refreshing to dwell on the infintesimal details of peanut butter selection rather than dwelling on all the doom and gloom?

Answer: Yes.

So. Just so I don’t leave you without a peanut-y taste in your mouth, here is a (sliiiiightly sexist) Skippy peanut butter television commercial from the 1950’s. Don't let it stick to the roof of your mouth.

Enjoy.



Oh! And! Have you been here? (My friend had this to say: "I had their daily special, The Johnny Appleseed: bagel, freshly-chopped apple, peanut butter, and optional cream cheese. A bagel so life-enhancing it fueled a whole day’s working around Manhattan – but that is NOTHING to the glory of Bea’s of Bloomsbury’s new peanut butter brownie: chocolate brownie simply oozing with peanut butter AND peanuts! Genius!")

Ode to Raspberry Jam

I love jam. While I am currently indulging in Marks & Spencer's beauuuutiful Blueberry, I have, and always will, nurture a love of Raspberry.

One of the perks of the chillier seasons is enjoying the heart- and soul-warming foods of winter: hot roasted vegetables like kale, brussel sprouts, parsnip and potato, as well as soup soup soup.

BUT, among the simplest and most versatile of these winter warmers is the classic TOAST. And on my toast? Well, It has to be peanut butter preferably Skippy™) and Raspberry jam. I just ate two slices RIGHT NOW. And! I did that thing where you get the laaaaast little bit of jam off the empty plate...without shame...

Now before you go on a second longer thinking "RASPBERRY?!!" let me just say this: Some jams are easy to love. Strawberry and Grape? They're no-brainers. Strawberry and Grape are like those popular girls who wear skimpy tops with nothing left to the imagination.

But Raspberry? My, my. Raspberry is like the smart girl in school, the one with her own sense of style. You think she’s too weird for you, you'll never understand or accept her... But when she starts talking, and you find out she’s amaaaaazing, and she doesn’t even give a damn if you like her? Suddenly, she’s leagues more attractive than skimpy t-shirt girl.

Rock on Raspberry.


(...go on... lick it off the plate... you know you want to....no one is looking...)

Winter Warmers

Winter. What a season. For one, it begins with the word “win”. A season of emotional contradictions - protection, hibernation and stocking up, combined with generous good-will. A time for us all to savour the rhyming of the “there’s no need to be affray-aid” with “we let in light and we banish shay-aid”.

In early winter, planning is the new black. Cooking, parties, presents. But as the season settles in, it is time to enjoy some of it's subtler pleasures; food, snuggling down, duvet days, meaningful conversation, wool blankets, contemplation, and food.

Whilst conversing and contemplating (or snuggling for that matter), why not enjoy the heart- and soul-warming foods of winter: hot roasted vegetables like kale, brussel sprouts, parsnip and potato, as well as soup soup soup. Now before you go on a second longer thinking "BRUSSEL SPROUTS?!!" let me just say this: some vegetables are easy to love. Tomatoes and carrots? They're no-brainers. Summer vegetables are like those popular girls who wear skimpy tops with nothing left to the imagination. But winter vegetables, my, my. They’re like the smart girl in school, the one with her own sense of style: you think she’s too weird for you, you'll never understand or accept her. But when she starts talking, and you find out she’s amazing, and she doesn’t even give a damn if you like her? Suddenly, she’s leagues more attractive than skimpy t-shirt girl. ( ...I don’t where this came from. I’m just going to leave it... ) Anyway, it's all about celebrating the best of the season. (And for those times when you’re cold to the core, or not interested in my vegetable metaphors, I’ve got a staggering hot chocolate recipe to bring you back to life!)

Also, to help you “win” I’ve included my list of Winter Victories & Virtues, and some ideas and resources for making your Winter a WINner.

1. First, a health tip: Skin brushing. Do it every morning on awaking to feel re-invigorated. Skin brushing improves blood circulation and lymphatic circulation. Not only does it increase body temperature but it also improves your general immunity.

2. Make soup! (Although February is probably the soupiest month in my book, it is never too early I say!)

3. Homemade Hot Chocolate (with optional marshmallows...mmm...) I get pretty excited about it, but enough words, I’ll let the drinks do the talking. (Or is that expecting a miracle?)

4. Make sure your neck, ankles and wrists are always well covered. (Hodel does!) If these sensitive areas of the body are exposed to the cold, your hands and feet will naturally become colder too, and your whole body is soon affected. Cover them well, (like Hodel. She will send upon you a frozen, gritty, Siberian smile). Check out my fuzzy new hat (thank you D, thank you Christmas). It comes with matching mittens... I know...

5. 'Tis the season to use glitter. Am I alone in my feeling that winter is the time to utilise our crafty skills, and glitter embodies all things wintery? If I am alone, ignore me, that's fine. But I say Craft Out Winter Winner! Get out that glue stick and Go. To. Town.

6. If you are lucky enough to be in a place that has SNOW (ohhh), try this amazing wintery activity. Loosely fill a large glass with FRESH snow (no two week old snow, yuck). Pour a carbonated drink of your choice (i highly recommend Coke or Sprite) carefully over the snow in the glass, and then eat with a spoon, or drink with a straw LIKE A SLURPEE. AMAZING.

7. Brave the cold weather (bundle up!) and check out Time Out's Cozy Winter Places in London.

8. Curl up with hot chocolate, cozy blanket or duvet, and read a Wintery book (additional suggestions welcome):
- If on a Winter's Night a Traveller by Italo Calvino
- A Winter Book: Selected Stories by Tove Jansson
- Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier
- A City in Winter by Mark Helprin and Chris Van Allsburg
- Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
- The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
- The Master and Margarita (Penguin Modern Classics) by Mikhail Bulgakov

Hooray for Winter. Win win win. Stay cozy.



PS) A picture of my Michigan street on New Year's Day...

Homemade Marshmallows...

Homemade marshmallows are an exquisite delicate candy. With a full vanilla flavour and a melt-in-your-mouth texture to die for; they like little clouds of sweetness that are easy to eat, go perfectly with coffee, flavored coffee drinks and of course hot chocolate; as well as being crucial for the creation of the glorious S'MORE. They are also surprisingly easy to make, and very impressive when you bring them out to serve your guests.

The only real drawback is that you really need a stand mixer to make them (it has a very large whisk--as opposed to the slightly less efficient beaters of a hand-held mixer). I recommend using vanilla bean paste or vanilla bean crush instead of plain vanilla extract because the tiny bean specks really look fantastic in the finished candy, as well as tasting gorgeous.

Homemade Marshmallows

.75-oz unflavored gelatin (3 envelopes of Knox gelatin)
1/2 cup cold water
2 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cups light corn syrup
1/4 cup water
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Line 9 x 9-inch pan with plastic wrap and lightly oil it. Set aside.

• In the bowl of an electric mixer, sprinkle gelatin over 1/2 cup cold water. Soak for about 10 minutes.


• Meanwhile, combine sugar, corn syrup and 1/4 cup water in a small saucepan. Bring the mixture to a rapid boil and boil hard for 1 minute.


• Pour the boiling syrup into soaked gelatin and turn on the mixer, using the whisk attachment, to high speed. Add the salt and beat for 12 minutes. After 12 minutes, add in the vanilla extract beat to incorporate.


• Scrape marshmallow into the prepared pan and spread evenly (Lightly greasing your hands and the spatula helps a lot here).


• Take another piece of lightly oiled plastic wrap and press lightly on top of the marshmallow, creating a seal. Let mixture sit for a few hours, or overnight, until cooled and firmly set.


• In a shallow dish, combine equal parts cornstarch and confectioners' sugar. Remove marshmallow from pan and cut into equal pieces with scissors (the best tool for the job) or a chef's knife. Dredge each piece of marshmallow in confectioners' sugar mixture.


• Store in an airtight container.

Makes about 40 large marshmallows, depending on the size you choose to cut them.

Enjoy... mmm....