My mother, Mary Lorraine Eagan Boyle, was from New Orleans.  That means two things:  she was an amazing cook, and she knew how to have a good time.

On the eve of her 80th birthday, she announced she didn’t want a party.  She wanted a parade.  And why not?  She grew up thinking it was normal for a town to shut down every year for a few weeks of parades with reveling and drinking and bead throwing.  She loved to celebrate. She had an outfit, including earrings and socks, for every holiday and a whole wardrobe just for Christmas.  And she talked my father into becoming a clown with her, so they could volunteer to entertain at hospitals and senior centers. She believed life was meant to be enjoyed, and enjoy it she did.

It was she who taught me to love good cooking.  She wasn’t a perfect cook.  Like so many in her generation, she sometimes turned to mixes and frozen foods. But when it came to New Orleans cooking, she was a purist, which means I grew up eating some of the best food in the world.

Her pecan pie is perhaps the single best recipe I know.  I have made it practically every Thanksgiving for 38 years, even when I lived in Europe and pecans were almost impossible to find, and it is the one thing I make that absolutely everybody loves.

Every Christmas, every holiday, I miss my mother so much my heart aches. But the ritual of making, and yes, eating her pecan pie, helps me feel that her sweet, southern loveliness is alive and well.

PECAN PIE

1 and 3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup dark corn syrup (not light corn syrup!)
1/2 stick butter (1/4 cup)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 eggs
1 generous cup chopped pecans

1 9-inch unbaked pastry shell in pie pan

In a sauce pan over medium heat, melt butter. Add sugar and dark corn syrup and, stirring constantly, bring to boiling point for a couple of minutes. Take off stove and add vanilla and salt. Cool for a few minutes. In large mixing bowl, beat eggs lightly. Very, very gradually, add sugar mixture to eggs, being careful eggs don’t cook. Blend with a whisk. Add pecans and stir until blended. Pour mixture into unbaked pie crust. Place pie on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes, or just until filling is set and no longer jiggles.

People here in Park City have a unique sense of humor.  Maybe because it is a relatively small town and shared jokes spread quickly.  Or maybe because long, snowy winters are so much easier when you have a sense of humor.  Either way, it is a welcome and welcoming attitude.

Take, for example, the Barbara Party. If your name is Barbara, or Barbra, or Barbie, you get to go.  Everybody there is named Barbara.  Apparently the Barbara Party is quite an affair.  It is held each year on, when else, the feast of St. Barbara (give or take a day or two), which most of my friends in Europe know is December 4th, but is not such a big deal here.  Except here.

I just met my next door neighbor, whose name is Barbara and I was about to tell her about the Barbara Party, but it turns out she has been going for years and is hosting it in 2011.  I should have known.   The only downer in this concept is that I am not going to be here for the party.  But I am going to be in Santa Barbara, which I think will earn me some points.

There is also a Newcomers Club, which lots of people here belong to. Barbara, our neighbor, told us about it.  Now,  she is actually not a newcomer to Park City.  She has lived here for years and years, as have most of the other members.  But she insists it is not really about newcomers, and that even though we are new, they would welcome us.

I think I am gonna like this town.

By the way, if you want to come to the Barbara Party, you are welcome, too.  Contact Barbara Maben at 435 649 3778.  You just have to be named Barbara.

I once took a year off of work to learn to make mole.

Ok, that is not exactly true.  I took time off to try and become pregnant.  Of course, since that endeavor did not require my attention 24/7,  I had a lot of free time to read, write, garden, and cook, not unlike what I am doing now, minus the daily temperature check.  So, among other pleasant activities that year, I decided to set a goal of learning to make the perfect mole sauce.

Mole was one of my first culinary epiphanies.  I discovered it in college while studying at the Universidad de las Americas near Puebla, Mexico. At first glance, its muddy color and thick consistency belies its intriguing subtlety. But one taste of the mysterious sauce, contrasting with the familiar taste of the accompanying roasted chicken, and I knew I had opened a whole new door to food.

People often refer to mole as “that sauce with chocolate,” as most recipes do include a bite or two of unsweetened chocolate. And that alone would put it on my “must try” list.  But as you will see, there are many other complex flavors as well, like toasted sesame seeds, pumpkin seeds, cloves, coriander, almonds and garlic. The word mole actually refers to a sauce cooked with chili peppers.  The most famous of these dishes, the one that inspired mine, comes from Puebla and is known as mole poblano.

I highly recommend that you try my recipe, mi mole.  It is a joy to make, as well as eat, but it is not a quick process.  It is smoky and splattery and thoroughly messy. Each step is easy, but there are a lot of them.   Mexican families often divide up the tasks between different cooks, so it might be fun to try with a friend.  When I make it, I do the toasting of all the seeds and prepping of the chilies the day before. And I take my time shopping for all the ingredients in advance, as some of them require poking through specialty food shops or hispanic sections of the grocery store.  That said, it is one of the most satisfying and memorable dishes you will ever make.

As it turned out, my year away from advertising did not bring me the baby I wanted so very much.  But it was a year during which I learned a great deal about food, and life, and love, and myself.

MI MOLE

In spice grinder or mortar, grind together Spice Mixture:
1 teaspoon coriander seeds, toasted
1/4 teaspoon anise seeds, toasted
7 tablespoons sesame seeds, toasted (set aside 3 of these for garnish)
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

After grinding, set Spice Mixture aside.

In blender jar, blend together Tomatillo Mixture:
1/2 cup canned green tomatillos, drained
1/2 onion, chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled
20 almonds
20 raisins, briefly soaked in water and drained
1/3 cup pumpkin seeds, shelled and toasted
1 stale corn tortilla, or 10 tortilla chips
2 slices stale white bread
1/4 to 1/2 cup chicken broth, as needed to help blending

After blending, place Tomatillo Mixture in a bowl and set aside.

Chilies and Chocolate:
5-6 large chili peppers (mulato, ancho or pasilla), seeded and stemmed
1/4 cup oil, and another 1/4 cup oil
water
1 1/2 ounces unsweetened chocolate
3-4 cups unsalted chicken broth

Using a large pot or dutch oven, in 1/4 cup oil, saute chilies quickly on both sides. Wipe out oil from pot. Place chilies in a bowl, cover with warm water and soak for 2 hours. Drain water from chilies, then place them in blender jar with 1 cup fresh water, and pulse until smooth. Again using the large pot, add remaining 1/4 cup of oil and saute pureed chili mixture over medium flame for 10 minutes. Break chocolate into pieces and add to pot, stirring until it melts. Add Spice Mixture and Tomatillo Mixture and and cook 10-15 more minutes, stirring constantly to keep from burning. Add chicken broth and let mixture simmer 40 minutes. Stir occasionally to be sure mixture does not burn. You now have Mi Mole sauce, or rather, Su Mole sauce!

Chicken:
6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1/4 cup of oil
fresh cilantro sprigs and reserved sesame seeds, for garnish

In large skillet, heat oil and brown chicken on each side.
Remove chicken from pan, drain off all oil, and return chicken to skillet.
Spoon enough Mole Sauce over chicken to almost cover. Cook gently until chicken is cooked through, taking care not to burn the mole sauce.

Garnish with reserved sesame seeds and cilantro. I like to serve this with rice (add mole sauce on top if you wish), warm flour tortillas, sliced avocados, and a dollop of sour cream or plain yogurt to contrast with the spiciness of the mole.  Serves 4.

It’s that time of year.  It is dark in the morning until I am through with both cups of tea.  It is dark in the evening well before I am ready to pour my glass of wine.  It is sometimes dark all afternoon, like it was today as storm clouds flew across the sky and snow blew sideways slamming against our windows. And the days are getting shorter still.

Here, there are no tall buildings to light up the night, or headlights speeding past at all hours to make me feel the reassuring energy and humanity around me.  It is just really, really dark.

There is one cheerful but solitary Christmas tree across the field from our house that is defiantly lit with colored lights, way before even Thanksgiving.  It makes me smile every time I look out the window. And in a few weeks, Park City will turn into a Christmas wonderland with twinkling white garlands that light the way everywhere until the snow melts.  But for now, I must take matters into my own hands.

It is time for light.

Tonight, for the first time here,  I lit the Glassy Babys, and will do so every afternoon from now on.  These are simple votive candles, but each are made by hand in the most incredible colors and I think that gives them a special depth and beauty.  I loved them in New York; I really need them here.

I remember traveling through Scandinavia in the winter, and they would burn candles all day long, in homes, in pubs, in offices, even in the airport lounges.  Between that and the schnapps. winter there was downright lovely.

Tomorrow, my to do list includes getting reams of lights to string along the house and porch.  When the darkness is darker, the lights are more precious. And I intend to have plenty of them for the weeks and months to come.

I just attended a party where we were able to drink, eat, shop for gorgeous hand made necklaces, and benefit women in Uganda through Bead for Life (www.beadforlife.org/ ), all in one fell swoop.  It was thrown by my neighbor, a member of the Blue Thong Society, here in Park City.

A non-joiner by nature, I haven’t had the desire to belong to anything since girl scouts.  But while the name alone would have been enough to hook me,  I really love the idea of a group of women who drink openly, do good things for the community and still maintain a sense of humor.  What a concept.  (Bonus:  I am thrilled to think I might be starting to meet a new friend or two as well.  Sweet.)

And, oh, by the way, I don’t honestly know if any of the women there were actually wearing blue thongs, but if that’s what it takes to be a part of this wonderful group, I am going shopping.

We were all asked to bring appetizers and wine.  I brought Honeyed Goat Cheese, the world’s easiest and one of the most delicious appetizers ever. Our son and daughter-in-law discovered it while wine tasting on Long Island and wowed us with it.  It takes no time to make and goes beautifully with wine and new friends.

HONEYED GOAT CHEESE

16 ounces of good goat cheese

4 ounces chopped walnuts, toasted

8 ounces good honey

one crusty baguette, sliced

Arrange the goat cheese on a platter.  Drizzle with honey and top with toasted, chopped walnuts.  Spread on baguette slices. Serves 8-12.