two roads project :: comfort

comfort

Sarah (left): What brings me comfort? Warmth, familiarity, ritual. As the season turns and I begin to look ahead to a time of preparation, I return to some traditions of comfort. As I noticed the first inklings of cooler nights and crisp mornings, I have slowly begun welcoming warm comfort foods back into our meal rotation. This week, Abby suggested we use some of our tomatoes to make Johanna's famous tomato soup. I jumped at the chance to use some of our garden bounty, and we had a jar of homemade chicken broth in the fridge waiting for just such an occasion. Abby helped me pick some ripe tomatoes, and that evening I blanched, peeled and crushed them for the soup. I picked some basil from our plants, and spent a quiet evening listening to a podcast of CBC's Tapestry while I diced onion, crushed garlic and stirred simmering soup. The next day at lunch, we made some grilled cheese sandwiches, and poured everyone a bowl of soup. I think it was the first time the twins had ever been served soup, as the idea of the mess daunted me last winter! Rich enjoyed his in a stone chowder mug I picked up for him in Maine, because he likes best to sip his soup. Abby, of course, informed me she didn't care for tomatoes and didn't want any, but she relinquished eventually, tried some, and finished her bowl. Hmm.

Johanna (right): With Noah now in school for the afternoons, Katia and I get to spend some special time together, just the two of us. 
Yesterday we tried our hand at a delicious tomato basil bread recipe. 
The scent of the basil (fresh from the garden) as we chopped it up was so delicious. 
The feeling of kneading the dough was comforting and rhythmic. 
The warmth from the oven, the coziness of the kitchen. 
There is something so comforting about homemade bread. 
I used to think that bread was one of those impossibly difficult things to make.  But after a few lessons and a very good everyday whole wheat bread recipe thanks to Sarah, we now enjoy homemade bread every week.

The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).
Sarah writes here.