Snow Days

After two days of pouring rain down here in the Bay, I couldn't stand it anymore. Late Sunday night I drove to Tahoe. It was just as I'd expected: a painstakingly slow drive in a snowstorm. More than a foot of new snow had fallen since I'd last been up and the magic of Tahoe was in full force: pine trees seemingly dipped in white frosting, pristine white snow covering the homes and a ski village full of happy people, drunk on fresh powder.

I had a lazy Monday grocery shopping, reading and visiting with our neighbors, most of whom were heading back to the Bay that night. On impulse I decided not to cook dinner and instead went to Mamasake, my favorite restaurant in The Village. There I ran into Dan Streetman, just back from his year in Iraq, and his family. What were the chances?! It was great to catch up with them and a huge surprise to us all.

Tuesday I spent working from the couch, watching more and more snow fall. Late in the afternoon I drove to Rebel's house, played Scrabble and made dinner there. Dorie Greenspan's Chicken in the Pot recipe is both simple and delicious, and so I'm sharing it.

Rinse and repeat Wednesday without the dinner. The storm was still in full swing and the mountain was closed. The happy residents of Squaw Valley turn grumpy when there is fresh powder and no easy way to the top. Not wanting to be dragged down by them and also seeing the forecast of heavy snow for the rest of the week, I packed up the car and drove home in the same slow manner in which I drove up.

I'm irritated as I type, however, because the storm changed course and this morning turned out to be clear and crowd free. My brother taught me this one: it was a There-Are-No-Friends-On-Fresh-Powder Day. Bummer for me.