By The election is next week. I'm not going to write about politics, which is not what this blog is for, but I want to mark the moment — the collective held breath of it, the way the whole country seems to be pointing in one direction waiting for something to either resolve or not resolve. I voted by mail two weeks ago. Having done what I could do, I've returned to the farm and the kitchen and tried to hold on to what doesn't change.
Made apple cider doughnuts this week, a Vermont fall tradition that I've been observing since I was a child but had never made myself. Helen used to buy them from a farm stand on the highway every October, a bag of them still warm, sugar-dusted, smelling of cider and spice. I found a recipe online and tried it. The results were imperfect — some were denser than they should have been — but the smell was exactly right. I ate four of them at the kitchen counter and called it research.
Carol came for the weekend. She's decided: she's moving to Stowe, a village fifteen miles from here. She'll be close. She's already found an apartment for January. This felt like news of the right kind — the kind that requires adjustment to absorb because it's good. I've been alone here for a long time and I've arranged myself around that aloneness and the prospect of having family nearby asks me to rearrange again. A good rearrangement.
Teddy's cooking lesson: apple cider doughnuts, same recipe I'd just tried. His came out better than mine because he's thirteen and approached it methodically rather than creatively. I told him that was entirely the right call. He seemed very pleased with himself, as he should be.
The doughnuts needed something to sit beside them — not cider, oddly, despite the occasion, but something dark and warm and a little complicated, the way the week felt. I’d been reaching for this spiced coffee all through the fall anyway, and it turned out to be exactly right: the cloves and cinnamon rhymed with the doughnuts without competing, and standing at the counter with four imperfect doughnuts and a mug of this, the election a week away and Carol’s good news still settling in, things felt as held-together as I could hope for.
Coffee with Cinnamon and Cloves
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 2
Ingredients
- 2 cups freshly brewed strong black coffee
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon, plus more for garnish
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
- 1 tablespoon brown sugar, or to taste
- 1/4 cup whole milk or half-and-half (optional)
- 1 cinnamon stick, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Brew the coffee. Brew 2 cups of strong black coffee using your preferred method — a French press or drip brewer both work well.
- Bloom the spices. While the coffee is still hot, whisk in the ground cinnamon and ground cloves directly in the pot or carafe. Let the spices steep for 1–2 minutes so the flavors open up.
- Sweeten. Stir in the brown sugar until fully dissolved. Taste and adjust sweetness as needed.
- Add milk. If using, warm the milk or half-and-half gently and stir it in, or pour it directly into each mug for a lighter color and softer flavor.
- Serve. Pour into mugs, dust lightly with additional ground cinnamon, and add a cinnamon stick if desired. Drink while warm, preferably alongside something freshly fried and sugar-dusted.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 45 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 8g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 10mg