It's colder than a witch's tit up here. Brass monkeys, as they say in England. (As in, you could freeze the balls off a...) The car thermometer read minus-one when I was heading to yoga this morning. My husband stayed home from the office so he could toast himself in front of the fire. Thoughts immediately turned to hot toddies. Traditionally, these warming drinks were downed before exposure to severe weather—or after, to recuperate from it—and they were also believed to have a curative effect on flu and colds. A simple combination of spirits, hot liquid, a sweetener, some citrus and a bit of judicious spicing, they even seem to put a dent in the winter blues. Consider bundling up and going for a brisk walk on the icy tundra just so you can fix yourself one. Or stand outside the front door for five minutes to work up a chill. Either way, it will go down like a charm.
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Today I am 50. It seems somehow inconceivable and yet it is merely the inevitable outcome of staying alive. (Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.) I’ve done more than that though—I’ve lived. And, as the inimitable Édith Piaf sang, Je ne regrette rien. I learned to play the oboe. I lived in Spain. I graduated from Harvard. I made my way in New York City. I moved to Los Angeles and back. I married 3 times, divorced twice and was widowed. I traveled the world. I found true love and married again. I bought a house in the woods and 5 acres on a lake. I started this blog. There have been some admirable achievements. There have been some spectacular flameouts. Much has been lost, but even more gained.

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There is snow on the ground here and that means long treks on snowshoes. Which are inevitably followed by a fire in the hearth and a hearty meal. What could be cozier than a pot pie? Break through the golden crust and a finger of steam beckons you toward tender chunks of goodness bound in a creamy sauce. These are a great repository for leftovers—chicken, shortribs, even fish—or any odds and ends rattling around the vegetable bin. Think of this recipe as more of a template than anything, easily adapted to whatever you have on hand. Consider making the dough ahead of time and stash it in the freezer. That way, when the temperature drops, you'll be ready.
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With the advent of cable and increasingly sophisticated content, television is no longer just for "boobs." In fact, new shows featuring great female characters mean that boobs are now making headway in front of the camera. In general, these boobs are clothed, though on HBO's Girls, writer/director/star Lena Dunham frequently strips down, both figuratively and literally. You've probably heard plenty of rants and raves about this show already (including from me at the tail end of this post) but let me just reiterate that you don't have to be 25 years old or even female to enjoy it. It's illuminating, poignant, disturbing and hilarious. Whether or not Dunham is the voice of her generation, she's an original and one to watch.
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As the flu reaches epidemic proportions around the country, I can only hope there are many steaming bowls of broth being ferried to sickbeds everywhere. Take the time to care for yourself and for your loved ones with fresh citrus juices and nourishing homemade soups. These are prophylactic as well as healing. Bone broths in particular support your immunity. Noodles and rice are classic choices to soothe weak tummies, but pozole (also spelled posole)—large kernels of hominy—are another excellent option. In Mexico this dried maize is served in a brothy stew, most often with several cuts of pork (see my recipe for that sort here), but it's also delicious made with chicken. (And here's an intriguing vegetarian version.) I like to think of it as my own Latina take on Jewish penicillin. This is further underscored by the addition of what's known in Yiddish as gribenes—crisp chicken skin cracklings—for soup that turns oy vey and ai yai yai into ahhhh.
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