My mind is constantly racing with things I want, and need, to do. Giving birth to a book is more exhausting than actual childbirth in some ways. This book in particular has picked at the scab that slowly began forming over my wounds. I’ve found my heart and mind throbbing with an ache, wondering if I will ever feel emotionally safe and secure again.

I worry that I will die before I see my girls grow into women—happy women, not completely stunted in their own emotional growth by the premature death of their father. I worry that my time here will end before I get to see the rest of my own dreams come to fruition. I worry that everyone I love will go before I’m ready to say goodbye, or more importantly, have a chance to say goodbye.

I guess, at the heart of it all, I just worry way more than I ever did. Before I was carefree in my understanding of the reality that everything living will die. I suppose this is a natural reaction when death occurs outside of the natural order of things.

I’m not always good at telling others what I need, or don’t need, from them. During our time in couples therapy, Mikey used to get so upset with me for expecting him to be a mind reader. Being in love, at least my sense of being in love, means being keenly aware of what the other person needs even when they are unable to say it for themselves.

This holds true for the relationship we share with ourselves. Nurture being the key word, as I suspect too often we let that relationship lapse. Between work, motherhood, marriage, and in many cases fear, that little voice that screams inside of us all doesn’t always get the recognition it deserves.

That little voice is what I’m trying to focus on these days, and it has taken me back to Paris. After a vigorous six weeks of book publicity, I needed to get away from the responsibilities of my every day life. Of course the girls are always on my mind—motherhood is not a switch one can turn on and off. I’m incredibly thankful to have an auntie who is keeping them under her watchful eye, while I take some time to work on myself. Work on learning to listen to that voice. Before I can expect anyone to ever love me as deeply and wholly as Michael did, I have to learn to love myself that way. Therein lies the key to letting anyone else in close enough to risk having my heart broken again. And I must be honest that my heart will be  vulnerable in any new relationship, whether it’s something simply not meant to be, or I fall madly in love again and that person goes and drops dead again suddenly.

Being vulnerable is a fact of life. It’s how I handle that vulnerability that steers the choices I make. Do I run in fear, or face it head on, ready to accept both what I can and cannot control? That is what I’m working on these days.

I was a little unsure as I stepped outside the airport yesterday. The feelings of excitement, the butterflies I felt as I buckled into my seat on Wednesday evening. It was cold, wet and grey. This didn’t catch me by surprise—it’s Paris, after all. Hours later the sun burst, casting rays of warmth from above. It was then followed by a dreadful downpour, and then yes, the sun came out again in all its glory. Life is much like the weather in Paris.

I went for a walk to Saint Suplice, and had a croque monsieur from my favorite cafe. Sarah knows the place I’m talking about, and it’s not just any croque monsieur. This one is a provencale-style, topped with ruby slices of tomatoes, and served open face on Poilâne bread.

Then I did what some might think downright silly when escaping for just a few precious days in Paris. I went shopping for groceries. I cook so often to show the people in my life how much I love them. The last few days I’ve been using cooking as a way to remind myself that I, too, am worth the time and effort that goes into a homemade meal. It started with a cake I baked myself for Mother’s Day.

As I cut slivers of garlic, and sauteed them in olive oil, a smile slowly came to my face. It was a humble meal of marinara sauce and penne. A simple salad, with a glass of Burgundy. And then I strolled down Boulevard Saint Germain to see The Great Gatsby. Oh, how I love seeing movies in Paris. I can’t really explain why, as I don’t know myself. It just fascinates me to the point of being exciting. Crazy, silly, childish…maybe all of the above?

I managed to keep myself up until midnight— quite a feat, considering it meant I was awake for 38 hours, running on only 3 hours of sleep. I woke nice and early this morning, catching the sun glistening over the buildings peeking above the walls of the courtyard outside my apartment. An apple tart I picked up from Poilâne yesterday served as my petit déjeuner, along with some strong coffee, fresh squeezed juice and a few raspberries.

I’ve been fighting feelings of guilt, as I pluck away at my keyboard writing, feeling like I should be doing something more worthy of my time. I’m in Paris, for heaven’s sake, I should’ve made my way to Blé Sucré by now. I want to spend some time lazily walking around the Musee d’Orsay, and finally get lost in the caverns of the Louvre—things you can’t do as leisurely with children. And then I keep reminding myself that I’m doing exactly what I set out to do when I booked this trip. I wanted to live life on my terms for a few days. No rising early to squeeze in some work before waking the kids. No mad dash to get into the schoolyard by 8:38am. No worrying about deadlines.

For the next few days, all I plan to do is listen to that little voice. Doing that in Paris makes perfect sense. I know the streets of the 6th and 7th, like the back of my hand. I can zip from A to B, needing little assistance from my trusted map. And yet, the customs and language still bewilder me a bit. Yesterday I told the green grocer “C’est fin” when I was done ordering which means “I’m dead”. The moment I said it, I knew it was wrong. Really, it means “I’m done” if you did the literal translation, but in French the expression is used to say the party’s over.

Paris offers me the familiar and unfamiliar. I feel completely comfortable here, and like an absolute stranger, all at once. It’s not too far off from how I feel in my own body sometimes. One thing I can say with certainty, though, is that I’m far from done. And so, my work continues.

Music Pairing: Dreams by The Cranberries

I’ve spent a lot of time talking lately about the nourishing power of cooking. I’m often on the giving end of that relationship, and it’s a role I cherish. Every now and then, though, it’s nice to step out from my usual position behind the stove, and simply be on the receiving end of a homemade meal. After six weeks of traveling to do publicity for the book, things winded down yesterday as I made my way home from Toronto. What an incredible bookend to what started here in NYC at the beginning of April.

Vittoria made her famous rice balls for my arrival in Canada. Nick contributed homemade dried sausage, as well as red and white wine—both homemade, to our dinner. Mary made the most perfect crostata with a jammy plum filling, and a crust that will haunt me until I have time to get into the kitchen and replicate it myself. Marisa made the main course, and what better way to make me feel welcome than with pizza? I felt so at home being with Marisa and her family, that I sat on the kitchen counter mere minutes after meeting her mom, Vittoria, so I could position myself just right to snap some shots of the incredible spread they had all prepared.

There are so many things I want to catch you all up on. Right now, I’ve got two big birthdays to kick off. The girls turn five and ten tomorrow. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that reality. How can I be the mother of a ten year old when I still feel fifteen at heart?

Friday night there will be a dozen kids flinging dough around my kitchen, as we usher in a new decade for my sweet Isabella. Twenty four hours later, we’ll be knee-deep in beads, paint and markers for some DIY fun for Virginia’s 5th birthday. By Saturday night, the apartment will be put back together, the chatter and chaos of the preceding 24 hours behind us. The house will be silent after swelling with the sounds of celebration and laughter, but the memories will be ingrained for a lifetime, creating one more stepping stone in a path towards happiness.

Music Pairing: Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys

Watch my Build a Better Pantry segment on Global TV.

Years ago, when Isabella was a wee little one, we had a neighbor who insisted on counting her son’s age in months up until he was three. Mikey and I laughed so hard at the idea of that. Imagine someone asking how old your kid is, and replying 32 months. It just sounds odd, right? I’m guessing that mom’s rationale was wanting to hold onto her son being a baby as long as possible. I get it. Oh man, do I get it, especially these days. In just two weeks, my babies will turn five and ten. I feel like I blinked and life tapped me on the shoulder, then screamed SURPRISE!

This whole way of counting has been weighing on my mind a lot lately. People often refer to Mikey having died a year and a half ago, or almost two years ago. Me? I refer to it as what it is—20 months ago. Unlike my old neighbor who wanted to cherish her babies early years, I’m trying to stay close to Mikey. The more time that passes since his death signifies the growing distance between my old life and my new one.

The counting game really plays with my mind. Often times I feel like I should be used to this new life. The one where I’m a single mother, and go to bed alone every night. The one where when I laugh at something silly the kids did, I have no one to call and share it with (at least not the person I want to share it with). When I look at his passing in days, though, it somehow makes it easier to be more gentle with myself.

Today is day 627.

Over the 17 years we spent together, we racked up more than 6,000 days. No wonder I still find myself struggling. Some days it feels like it’s getting easier, which makes the emotional set backs harder to navigate. May is an especially tough month. The girls both have their birthdays on May 11th, there’s Mother’s Day, and to top it off—May is the month we met. It’s when Mikey asked our friend Pat back in 1995 “who’s the girl with the pretty green eyes behind the reception desk”.

Instead of running from the downs, I’m going to face them head on. Choosing happiness means you have to confront the sadness, jump over it like a hurdle on an obstacle course. When all else fails, I know I can always find my way in the kitchen. I sometimes wonder if I’ve used it as a coping mechanism. We all have our vices, I suppose. At least mine isn’t hurting anything but my waistline!

I’ve been having a lot of fun testing new recipes using my All-Purpose Baking Mix from Homemade with Love. Seriously, this mix has gotten me out many a jam so far since my schedule is all over the place these days—literally, I leave for San Francisco on Monday morning! I hope everyone has fun weekend plans. Take time to put down the devices and enjoy spring. Walk in the park with your honey. Play tag with the kids. Whatever you do, stop and smell the tulips (the roses aren’t ready yet). Life is too short to be tethered to a phone, iPad and what not. Live life like a participant, not a spectator.

Hugs—JP

Orange Poppy Olive Oil Muffins

makes one dozen

Music Pairing: Love is Here to Stay by Louis Armstrong with Ella Fitzgerald

You can swap in almond, soy or coconut milk to make these muffins dairy-free.

1 3/4 cups (254 grams) All-Purpose Baking Mix (on page 20 in Homemade with Love)

1 tablespoon (9 grams) poppy seeds

3/4 cup (150 grams) granulated natural cane sugar

Freshly grated zest of 1 orange
(1 gram)

1/2 cup (125 ml) olive oil

3/4 cup (187 ml) milk

1 large egg

Preheat the oven to 350F (180C). Line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners.

In a large bowl, whisk together the baking mix, poppy seeds, granulated sugar, and orange zest to combine.

In a separate bowl, beat the olive oil, milk and egg together with a fork. Pour over the flour mixture and, using the same fork, stir until the batter is just combined, and there are no visible traces of flour.

Fill each muffin cup with a generous 1/4 cup of the batter. Bake until the edges are golden, and a skewer inserted in the center comes out mostly clean, about 25 minutes.

From the get-go, I knew promoting a book would be more challenging than writing one. That theory is proving to be true. It’s not to say that publicity is more work, it’s just that it’s a different kind of work, and one with which I’m trying to find a comfort-level. I’m incredibly shy, and don’t like talking about myself, which I realize sounds odd to say for someone who has shared so much of her life in a public manner. Sitting behind a screen, clacking away at a keyboard, it is easy to feel anonymous, when the reality is so far from that.

Being in front of a camera is not an easy task for me, and yet when I watch this video my friend Liza created for her James Beard Award-nominated site, food.curated., I’m blown away at how she managed to capture me in this loving story as part of her new series, Why We Cook. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the footage of me laughing. Sometimes I get caught up in the frenzy of juggling motherhood, work and trying to carve out time for myself emotionally, and personally. I’m crossing the line into babbling now, so before I get lost in my own thoughts, I’m going to zip my lips, and let you sit back and watch it for yourself.

Hope everyone’s week is going well. I’m off to North Carolina tonight, and very excited to meet some more of you at Quail Ridge Books & Music this Friday night, and at Southern Season on Saturday afternoon.

Hugs—JP

I spent 12 hours traveling home today. No, I didn’t go to Paris. Nor did I venture to the west coast. I was simply trying to get back to NYC from Chicago. The details of my travel aren’t important, though if you follow me on twitter, you likely saw my heated exchange with American Airlines.

And now here I am at my laptop, clacking away when I should be going to bed. Alas, sleep will have to wait until mid-May when the book publicity settles down. But I had to pop in here and share something. Before coming upstairs to my office to start the night shift, I made a blueberry spritzer. I had some blueberry syrup in the fridge from this event last week, and simply mixed it with some Pellegrino. As I took the last sip and looked down in my glass, six tiny wild blueberries had settled to the bottom of it, all in a row, forming a smile. At that moment, my cup wasn’t half empty or full. It was simply smiling at me, reminding me that happiness is a choice as long as you keep yourself focused on it at all times.

I’m adding a few links for your reading and viewing pleasure below. Hope everyone is having a great week, and be back in a bit. À bientôt.

Music Pairing: The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy) by Simon & Garfunkel

***

My cooking segment on Good Day Chicago.

A peek into the NYC launch event for Homemade with Love.

Some reviews of Homemade with Love from Edible Brooklyn and The Washington Post. Plus a few of my friends hosted a virtual potluck this week to celebrate the book’s publication. Go see what Gina, Ilina, Jodi, Amy, and Kim cooked from the book.  I’ve also started a Pinterest board to gather all the reviews of the book in one place.

p.s. if you ever find yourself traveling with the kids to Chicago, or just want the ability to cook a meal in your hotel room, I highly recommend the Residence Inn on East Walton Place. The suite didn’t break the bank, and the staff was incredible.

The moment I walked out of my therapist’s office and felt the sun glistening on my face, I knew I was in trouble. My needs are simple, yet they often feel complicated. A day spent meandering, somewhat aimlessly, with the sun’s glow warming me, is my idea of a perfect one. It’s also akin to mental quicksand, distracting me from the planned goals at hand. Such is the quandary I found myself in this morning. I wandered into Washington Square Park, intending to just cut through on my way to Soho. The stillness of the park, combined with a clear, blue day were too potent. I found myself gravitating to a park bench, and settled into a phone call with a friend.

Fifteen minutes later, I hung up, and decided to hang in the park while I waited for a call from a journalist to talk about the book. I glanced at my iPad, checked some emails and was about to dive back into The Forgotten Gift (an incredible novel). Then temptation struck. I closed my eyes and tilted my face towards the sky, all the while feeling guilty for enjoying the simplicity of lounging in the sun. It’s not the lazy days of summer after all. Quite the opposite—winter isn’t giving up without a fight here in NYC. I was curled up on the bench bundled in my winter coat, scarf and gloves. There’s also this little matter of a book that came out recently and the million things on my To Do list to prepare for my Chicago trip in two days.

All I could think in that moment as I shut my eyes to savor some sunshine was “I should be doing something”. And then it occurred to me that doing nothing was actually something in disguise. I spend every waking minute of my days connected, whether it’s to people or devices. It’s so easy to become disconnected from myself in the everyday chaos.

Eventually, the hum of my phone for my interview shuttled me back to reality, but my day had been irrevocably altered. I came to an important realization later that afternoon. My scar, the big W of widowhood, will always be with me. No amount of emotional plastic surgery can remove it. The perceived pain of opening still tender wounds as I begin publicity for the book, is just that…perceived. I’m forever a changed person, but that doesn’t have to mean I’m permanently damaged. The sum of who I am is made of many parts. My emotional scars are tattoos visible only to myself, and like my tattoos, I can use them to draw inspiration and hope. Sometimes doing nothing makes everything a little more clear.

Music Pairing: Paths That Cross by Patti Smith

April 1st is fast approaching people, but it’s no joking matter—this week starts the media merry-go-round for Homemade with Love! Is it okay to refer to it as such? I probably should run this post by my publicist, or at the very least not be writing it at 3:33am—make a wish! You know that one, where you make a wish whenever the time reads all the same numbers…11:11, 2:22, etc. I’m still a schoolgirl in that I make wishes at any chance I can get, like on the first star at night. I even do that thing where you tie the paper from a straw into a loop and if it comes out in a knot it means the boy you love is thinking about you. All silly stuff, but wishes are just dreams we want to make come true one day, right?

Any way, I’ve figured out the perfect recipe for squeezing in a few more work hours to the day.

1. Collapse in bed right after the kids are tucked in, which for me was 8:30pm tonight.

2. Wake up at 12:30am feeling completely rested.

3. Toss and turn for an hour because one really shouldn’t get up and start working at 12:30am.

4. Finally give into insomnia at 1:30am, and run a hot bubble bath. Then go into home office and start clacking away at your laptop.

Okay, so maybe this isn’t the perfect recipe, but it is my State of the Union at the moment. I know I’m going to regret not trying harder to fall back to sleep, but since I can’t fall asleep on command—I was always envious of Mikey’s ability to do this, I figured it was a good opportunity to gather all my book tour information in one handy place. And there are updates—I’ve finally confirmed my Canada trip, and added another event to my North Carolina stop too.

Oh, and I have one more very exciting surprise for the U.S. portion of my book tour. KitchenAid USA is so graciously giving away one 7-quart stand mixer at each of my signings at The Book Cellar, BookCourt, Quail Ridge and Omnivore Books! Honestly, my use of exclamation points seems out of control these days, but that little announcement just screamed for one, right? You’ll get one raffle ticket for each book purchased, and the winners will be chosen randomly at the end of each signing event.

Okay, I think I feel a yawn coming on. Perhaps I can finally go back to sleep and catch a few winks before the sun (and my kiddos) rise. Nighty night folks. See ya on the flip side.

Homemade with Love Book Tour

Chicago

Sunday, April 7th 4:00pm—The Book Cellar 4736-38 North Lincoln Avenue in Chicago, IL.

NYC

Saturday, April 13th 7:00pm—BookCourt 163 Court Street in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, NY.

North Carolina

Friday, April 19th 7:30pm—Quail Ridge Books & Music 3522 Wade Avenue in Raleigh, NC.

Saturday, April 20th 12:00pm to 2:00pm— Southern Season 201 South Estes Drive
Chapel Hill, NC.

San Francisco

Tuesday, April 30th 6:00pm—Omnivore Books 3885a Cesar Chavez Street in San Francisco, CA.

Toronto, Canada

Tuesday, May 7th—7:00pm The Cookbook Store 850 Yonge Street, Toronto, Canada.

 p.s. One quick note about these signing events. Please keep in mind that I will only be able to sign books purchased at the events themselves. It is a great opportunity to come support a local shop in your area. I think most of you understand that is standard practice with bookstore signings, but wanted to mention it just in case.

In the midst of running errands yesterday, I swung by my local Barnes & Noble, and there before my very eyes was Homemade with Love displayed in the window. Even though it shouldn’t have taken me by surprise, I still had to blink a few times to believe what I saw. It sounds silly to say, considering it’s been in other people’s homes for two weeks now, but this was my first time seeing it displayed in person.

So many of my hopes and dreams are laced throughout the pages of Homemade with Love. It’s funny how life seems to operate in both slow motion and warp speed simultaneously. It feels like just yesterday that I was a 24-year-old, reading an article Mikey gave me about becoming a personal chef in Newsweek—and yet, it was 15 years ago.

Next week begins the busyness of publicity for the book. I mentioned some book signing information in my last post, and have two more updates—Chicago and Canada, here I come! I’m working on Boston and New Jersey, just bear with me, as it’s a lot trying to manage childcare these days, especially the overnights. Thankfully, my auntie is coming up from Florida to lend a hand, and we seem to have finally found a wonderful new babysitter too.

I want to thank one more sponsor who is helping make the book tour possible. KitchenAid has been a part of my cooking life for over a decade. Their stand mixer became a fixture in my mom’s kitchen during the holidays when I was a teenager, after she had saved up enough money to buy her first stand mixer. She used to sell gingerbread houses as a way to make extra cash to buy our family Christmas gifts. When my auntie retired back in 2000, my whole family pitched in and bought her a stand mixer as a gift.

This is auntie’s original stand mixer—still looks like new!

I was gifted with my very first stand mixer in my mid 20s. It was an early Christmas present from my Uncle Ray and Aunt Barbara, and it has since become a family heirloom. When I upgraded to a newer model, I gave that original stand mixer to my best friend from high school. It now sits on her counter, and brings a smile to my face every time I go visit her. My uncle passed away 12 years ago, yet a little bit of him lives on not just in my memories, but with every turn of the paddle when Jeanise makes a treat for her own family.

KitchenAid has been a part of my journey for 15 years now. It is such an honor to have their support in this next chapter of my story. As I add my final words to this post, the clock has turned to March 26^th—the official publication date for Homemade with Love, a literary birthday, of sorts for me when you think about. Keep dreaming big, I know I will.

Homemade with Love Book Tour

Chicago

Sunday, April 7th 4:00pm—The Book Cellar 4736-38 North Lincoln Avenue in Chicago, IL.

NYC

Saturday, April 13th 7:00pm—BookCourt 163 Court Street in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, NY.

North Carolina

Friday, April 19th 7:30pm—Quail Ridge Books & Music 3522 Wade Avenue in Raleigh, NC.

San Francisco

Tuesday, April 30th 6:00pm—Omnivore Books 3885a Cesar Chavez Street in San Francisco, CA.

Toronto, Canada

Tuesday, May 7th—details coming soon!

Well folks, it really is official. Homemade with Love has made landfall, and the messages, tweets, and photos on instagram have nourished me more than you can possibly understand. Even though I often feel lonely these days, and gearing up for the book tour is filled with some anxiety as I take a few more steps on my own in the world, the truth is I’m never as alone as I sometimes feel. Thank you for welcoming me into your hearts and homes.

Here’s a peek at signings that have been confirmed so you can mark your calendars. I’ll be in Chicago and Canada too, and will be sure to share information on signings there once dates have been finalized. In the meantime, if you’re in NYC, North Carolina or San Francisco, gather a group of friends, and come support these local bookstores that are so graciously supporting me.

NYC

Saturday, April 13th 7:00pm—BookCourt 163 Court Street in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, NY.

North Carolina

Friday, April 19th 7:30pm—Quail Ridge Books & Music 3522 Wade Avenue in Raleigh, NC.

San Francisco

Tuesday, April 30th 6:00pm—Omnivore Books 3885a Cesar Chavez Street in San Francisco, CA.

Another fun bit of news I’d like to share is the launch of a fun, new sweepstakes for Glad Food Storage. Starting today though April 25^th, you can share photos of your homemade packed lunches, or pictures of ones that inspire you to pack your own, on your Pinterest page for a chance to win all sorts of great prizes every week over the next five weeks. The photo you see above is a standard airplane meal for me. I’ve signed on as a spokesperson for Glad, so be sure to check my Pinterest page too, to get more ideas for Inspired Lunches as part of Glad’s campaign. My relationship with Glad goes back a few years. Ever since I found out they’re a corporate sponsor for Cookies for Kids’ Cancer, I’ve been a loyal customer. You can find out the full contest details here.

Okay, that’s it for now. There’s lots more to share but my head is in the clouds right now—literally, I’m on my long journey home from Agadir, Morocco. Hope everyone’s week is off to a good start.

xo—Jennie