The first blizzard of the season had impeccable timing. Just a tad over a day shy of the official first day of winter, discussion about the impending arrival of the storm was carried along most airwaves. People bounded toward all sorts of shopping markets. Crammed parking lots to well over capacity. Carried thoughts of food and gifts. Safeguarded crumply unchecked lists.

The hum and promise of a slippery commute postponed an annual cheesy holiday sweater party. Instead, we all huddled on bar stools in audible wonderment about the first snowfall of the season. Like waiting for an old friend to arrive, we chatted about the what ifs. Would it be as heavy as predicted? What time would it be here? What are you drinking? (hot chocolates flavored with a few spirits PerryA deemed appropriate)

Then, a sifting of snow speckled the view outside the windows. Shy flakes whispered a timid hello. Within the hour, however, their teary foundation was laid. Soon, muscled flakes gathered in thick huddles many inches deep.

On Sunday morning, Nils woke to a text from his mom hinting that she had cookies for him. He gathered that meant he'd be rewarded with cookies after clearing paths around her home. On the way to her house, we rode through a wintery wonderland. Our tiny neighborhood in Poi was quiet, and heavy with 12+ inches of snow. Every furry and crusty branch bowed a wintery greeting. Every driveway was on equal ground as the grassy yards. Everything white. Everything somehow light and heavy.

Instead of riding with us, Sage bounded through snow airborne again from a snowblower. If I may be so bold as to speak for Sage, I'd say he enjoys jumping for displaced snow as much as he enjoys catapulting himself toward watery droplets from a hose flung high for his summery amusement. Just look at that mug...

My future-mom-in-law (FMIL), true to her text, rewarded us both with sugary nibbles gathered from her own baking efforts as well as those of others. While I pondered what a dear her son is for taking care of his mama, I picked on peppermint bark and the white chocolate-covered soda cracker concoction I cling to every year.

Nils bolted soon thereafter to watch football. I lagged behind sipping coffee, knitting, noshing on anything within reach, distracting FMIL from her correcting homework with a hefty line-up of holiday cooking shows, and curling my toes in delight of a lazy-yet-productive afternoon.

A few days later, back in the city, the storm is old news. The snow is nudged aside. Dirtied. Reflected upon solely as a nuisance. Now, the holidays preoccupy. There's still a rush. Anxious parkers. Lines beyond belief.

Let's take a collective breath, shall we? Ah, now doesn't that feel better? Go ahead, a few more will work wonders.

While we're at this pause, I'd like to thank you for your visits this year. I'm supposing this will be my final post of 2009, as we're headed for a vacation shortly after Christmas and my laptop is beyond repair, so posting will prove impossible. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for following along with me on my culinary travels. I do hope you've enjoyed the ride. Although obsessed with writing, cooking and blogging, there are days that making the time to do so is not easy. Yet, I aim to share. The notion that you're out there, waiting, keeps me going. Thanks for that. May we share a Cheers for the passing of years? Oh wait, maybe you'd like to check out this recipe first...

Awhile back, Nils handed me a bag of cranberries, literally fresh from a nearby bog.

The marshy remains still woven throughout the berries. After much deliberation with myself, I deemed them worthy of a vodka infusion.

If we filled our infusion jar with the ruby jewels, rosy apples, rusty cinnamon sticks and a few lengthy pours of vodka, we might just have a gift for giving on our hands.

And so, we did just that. Nights later, Nils drained the jar of its potion, filling glass bottles fit for slim pours.

They lined up for adornment and tagging.

Ian popped by to wish us well before he travels home to France for the holidays. His gift for me plucked straight from my wish list.

We shared a sip of this warming, richly cinnamon, tart and sweet elixir. Said our farewells until our rendezvous in 2010.

The sense of some sort of closure lingers in the brisk air. For now, I'll leave it be. I have wrapping, knitting and singing along to attend to. Notions of what may be will just have to...Never we mind, let's simply share a Cheers! for the holidays and the passing of 2009 into 2010. Be well. Be safe. Enjoy all.

cape cod cranberry & red delicious apple vodka

2 pounds fresh cranberries
5 red delicious apples, cored, sliced into wedges
5 cinnamon sticks
3 liters vodka (we used Three Olives)

Sanitize a large container that has an airtight lid to house your infusion.

Add the cranberries to the container, tossing some in and squeezing a few handfuls into a mash. Layer the apple slices atop the berries, mindful that all will be untidy once the spirit is added. Tuck in the cinnamon sticks between apple slices. Pour vodka streams over the whole lot. Cover snugly. Let stand for 5 days.

After the vodka is infused with the color and tastes of the mixture, it's time to separate the liquid from the solids. Our jar has a lovely bitty spout to do so. Otherwise, place a colander in a stockpot. Carefully pour or ladle batches of the mixture over the colander, letting the liquid seep through the colander into the pot. Discard the solids. Bottle in sanitized airtight containers. Refrigerate until serving.