Posts Tagged ‘cinnamon’

I keep thinking fall started months ago.  I blame the mornings for being gray since August because one month of gray skies has me thinking about stews and cider and cinnamon.  Actually, I have been thinking about cinnamon a lot lately, but it felt unfair to think about cinnamon when I had five-pound zucchinis and heirloom tomatoes sitting on my kitchen counter.

Okay, I still have one last five-pound zucchini on the counter, but it just feels like fall.  Maybe it’s the fact that I just read a book that gushed about things like apple cider.  Maybe it’s the fact that I have started work and the emphasis is on a “fall start date.”  I don’t know.  I guess the slight newness of routine finally nudged me towards believing the seasons have changed ;)

In the name of trying things new, I decided a cinnamon fig walnut bread would be in the works.  A toast studded with figs and walnuts and swirled with cinnamon sugar sounded like a good breakfast on-the-go.  Probably even better with cinnamon honey butter.  Mmm…



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After surprisingly long stretches of the clearest blue skies, the weight of the exasperated San Francisco fog begging to be let out paved way to the first rain.  My jeans are reeking of rain, my hair is matted flat, and my fingers are numbed rigid.  I am alone again under the defense of the umbrella, as I feel that shell of myself wash away.

I feel particularly vulnerable to this time of the year, as I huddle sometimes under the umbrella but definitely in the wool coat.  I am leaving, I am leaving. That is all I can think about at any given time.

I have to come love this place, this city in spite of the buses that run over bike racks (and consequently go out of service) and the strange men who holler at me for dates in Mandarin and Japanese.  When I finally got over the confusion over how to keep pace with the moving city traffic and learned to breathe in the polluted air and be, I am leaving all of this crazy city mess behind for something smaller and confined.  How do I say goodbye?

I lie here on this bed, pining for something more of this experience of being in San Francisco.  I think about how much the city has nurtured my sense of self–that curious person that dares to dream of working for the Big Four and chucks in foreign ingredients like muscovado sugar and almond paste (although obviously not at the same time) regularly now in baking.

Of course, since I ponder in food, I return to my first love in San Francisco, Tartine Bakery, in this kind of countdown to leaving the city.  Specifically, the smell of the cinnamon-orange wonderfulness of its morning buns.


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