Author Archives: Kate Christensen

About Kate Christensen

eater, citizen, enthusiast, curmudgeon

We’re going to lay down someplace shady, with dreamland coming on

Living without a kitchen for a season due to an extensive, much-wanted renovation is a first-world problem, of course, especially if you have enough money (albeit barely) to eat out a couple of nights a week as well as another … Continue reading

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The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance

Running a marathon is a brave, ridiculous act of endurance and hope and derring-do and personal triumph.  It transcends politics. It transcends everything. It’s a big throng of people, tens of thousands of them, all nationalities and races and religions … Continue reading

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Oh, the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see

I learned how to make stir fry from my college freshman-year roommate. Actually, Lisa was my second college freshman-year roommate. My first one and I didn’t much like each other. And I hated living on campus. I was two years … Continue reading

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Just when you think it can’t get no better then it does

We both woke up feeling well-rested and chipper this morning. I made French toast with vanilla and cinnamon, custardy on the inside and crisp on the outside, and served it with hot wild blueberries with maple syrup. We drank big … Continue reading

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If you hear that same sweet song again, will you know why?

The sun came out today. It was fiercely bright. All day, the sky was a mad, deep blue. We emerged from the house this morning blinking like underground rodents in sudden klieg lights. The air was so mild, I stripped … Continue reading

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Hey, sweet baby, don’t you think maybe we could find us a brand new recipe?

The other day in Whole Foods, as we were shopping for groceries to bring to the farmhouse for five nights, I said jokingly, self-mockingly, to the cashier who was ringing up our groceries, “Did you notice how healthy our food … Continue reading

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I feel the earth move under my feet, I feel the sky tumbling down

I’m sitting at my desk in my study with a cup of coffee, catching my breath for a moment while Dingo has his morning nap on his bed at my feet. My new book, “Blue Plate Special,” an autobiographical account … Continue reading

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Golden slumbers fill your eyes

This time of year, I can’t stop sleeping. I seem to have been infected by a seasonal parasite, a sleep tapeworm or zombie virus that awakens at dark and renders me unconscious so it can wreak its insidious takeover of … Continue reading

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Out on the wiley, windy moors…

Two days ago, we arrived here at the farmhouse from town. The wind blew around the house all evening and night in moans and ghostly howls. Dingo kept barking at it, and in the course of a night in front … Continue reading

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You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go

I’m the only one up; it’s frosty and sunny outside. Not one wild creature is visible – just dead grass, tangles of bare crabapple branches, and the naked birch trees starkly white down the meadow. For breakfast this morning, I’m … Continue reading

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