Unless you live in a land of perpetual sunshine—or you're from down under—this time of year can get a little bleak. Every year I remind myself to schedule a vacation in February, and every year I forget. Last year we did make it to Hawaii in March and next month we're lucky enough to have another family vacation in Antigua, so there's sunlight at the end of the tunnel. It's bloody cold here and that makes it tough to get the exercise I need. I go to yoga twice a week, jump rope in the screened-in porch and get out in the woods when the snow is right for snowshoeing or it's not too icy to hike. I never thought I would say this, living in paradise as I do, but I miss the gym. After three years upstate, it's clear to me that I have to be more disciplined about my fitness. Generally, if I don't get moving first thing in the morning, it just won't happen. And that's not OK. Especially at 50, with both feet planted firmly in middle age, it's crucial to get the heart pumping and the muscles firing on a regular basis. Whatever your age, you'll actually experience fewer aches and pains, feel more energetic, sleep more soundly, have more radiant skin and look better in jeans. When life hands you lemons...
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A bit more about our little homestead. We've put in a lot of work over the last 7 years, transforming a place that was decidedly ramshackle, with questionable bones, into our own private paradise. I found this cottage just at the time I met G, so a major undertaking I had thought would be a solo project turned out to be a challenge built for two. (Still thanking my lucky stars!) Why not buy something new and pristine, you ask? Well, money, for one thing. Plus I was looking for something in this area in order to be close to a good friend (who wound up selling his place, but that's another story) and this was well-situated and truly the best of the bunch I saw. And I just envisioned the possibilities, I guess. Remember, at the time I was single and it was intended to be a weekend place, so I didn't think I needed lots of space. But when Prince Charming entered, he immediately financed the construction of our pride and joy: the screened-in porch.
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It occurred to me that you never get to see inside our little cottage, aside from a quick peek at the bathroom we renovated. We had the white brick fireplace built to replace the wood-burning stove that was here originally. Inspiration came from a Swedish book on fireplaces that I found in the mid-90s in a vintage book store in Illinois and carried around optimistically for a decade. We also stained the floors and ceiling beams a deep espresso brown and gave the walls a coat of white paint. My aesthetic is defnitely inspired by my Northern California upbringing, with lots of earthy colors and organic textures. (I recently received this book as a gift and was instantly nostalgic.) Mixed in are assorted works of art, ceramics, elements from nature and pieces collected on our travels, including several Berber rugs from Morocco.
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This is a quickie. It's for those of you still casting about for the ideal, luscious Valentine's Day dessert. (Not that it wouldn't be just as irresistible any other day of the year.) I made it yesterday and it was an astonishing sight to behold, considering that it's a chocolate mousse made only of chocolate and a bit of water. No eggs, no cream, no fuss. Melissa Clark of the Times got the recipe from molecular gastronomist Hervé This. (Not to be confused with his colleague Henri That.) It's intense and ridiculously simple, sort of like falling in love. But with more whipping.

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When tomatoes were first introduced to Europe, they were known as love apples. The Aztecs called them xitomatl, meaning "plump thing with a navel," and from there we got our word. One gushing sweet-savory bite of this astoundingly red fruit and you know it's good for you, packed with powerful antioxidants, including cancer-fighting lycopene. Red is the color of blood, of passion, of ravishing ripeness. What better way to honor your sweetheart than with a health-promoting, swoon-inducing tomato curry? If tomato is the food of love, read on.

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