Last night, we were all sitting together in the children's room before bedtime. The room was bathed in the golden light of a bedside lamp. The shutters were closed, it was a dark and cold outside. My husband was reclined on our dauther's bed, in a comfy sweatshirt and warm socks. We were all listening to her read a few pages of a book out loud. It was sweet and moving to watch her lips form sentences, to hear her little voice read us a story, halting here and there to re-read a word she couldn't grasp. I was lying across from them on my son's little bed. He was nestled and cozy under the duvet. I was stroking his impossibly soft, just washed hair and breathing in that delicious smell of clean child and fresh sheets. I felt the pillowy comforter and crisp sheets beneath me.
My daughter read something funny and we all laughed. We started and we couldn't stop. In glee, my son jumped out of the bed and hopped onto his sister's bed, kissed his father and curled up into his arms. his fingers playing with his worn blankie, sucking on his beloved ciuccio. My daughter read on.
It was one of those perfect moments. A fleeting instant of total, pure, unadulterated joy. We were together, we were one, we were comfortable and safe and happy.
This is a moment I will remember. Not this exact instant perhaps, but I know when I think back and remember these early years I will remember them being oh so good because of a collection of moments like these. This is what makes every difficult, exahusting, frustrating moment of parenthood 100% worth it. This is what life is really about.
This recipe was inspired by the beautiful blog Manger, a real treat for the eyes as well as the palate.
I love how versatile it is, you can pretty much use any vegetable following Mimi's simple, straightforward directions.
I had never made a tarte tatin because it felt a little daunting. You see, tarte tatin happens to be F's favorite cake after pecan pie (my second post! Forgive that store bought dough and photo, it still is a killer recipe with a homemade crust) and when we honeymooned in Paris (twelve years ago this month) he ate it at least once a day while I, little trollop that I am, hopped from mousse au chocolat to crème brûlée to a tatin or two myself. Now that I have made a very tasty (if I may say so myself) savory version, I feel I can try to approach the traditional version of this greatly beloved tart.
