Sweet Saturday

Tonight I made "Outrageously Thick Spanish Hot Chocolate with Churros" from Sticky, Chewy, Messy, Gooey by Jill O'Connor. Here's the recipe for the hot chocolate if you're in the mood for something super rich and chocolaty. This recipe serves six. (I didn't make the churros).

Ingredients:
6 cups whole milk
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 cup dutch-processed cocoa powder
3/4 cup sugar
pinch of salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
8-12 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped (I used chocolate chips)

Pour 5 1/2 cups of the milk into a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan. In a small bowl or cup, stir together the cornstarch, cocoa powder, sugar, and salt. Add the remaining 1/2 cup of milk to form a smooth paste. Heat the milk over medium heat and just before it begins to boil, whisk in the cocoa mixture. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly, and cook for 1 minute, or until the mixture thickens slightly. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla and about 8 ounces of the chocolate. Stir until the chocolate is completely melted and combined. Taste the hot chocolate; if desired, stir in 4 more ounces of chocolate (or to taste) for an even richer flavor. Set aside and keep warm.

Today I visited the Book Eddy and came across Anne Morrow Lindbergh's The Unicorn & Other Poems. I've been reading her other book, Gift from the Sea, so it was pure serendipity and such a sweet moment to find this old book of poetry. Plus, there was a little note inside, written in 1973. I believe this note was written for me...

"From the woman who gave you 'Gifts from the Sea' - to my favorite unicorn - hope you enjoy it."

Magical...

Here is a poem, from the book, I absolutely adore:

"The Man and the Child"

It is the man in us who works;

Who earns his daily bread and anxious scans
The evening skies to know tomorrow's plans;
It is the man who hurries as he walks;
Finds courage in a crowd; shouts as he talks;
Who shuts his eyes and burrows through his task;
Who doubts his neighbor and who wears a mask;
Who moves in armor and who hides his tears.
It is the man in us who fears.

It is the child in us who plays;
Who sees no happiness beyond today's;
Who sings for joy; who wonders, and who weeps;
It is the child in us at night who sleeps.
It is the child who silent turns his face,
Open and maskless, naked of defense,
Simple with trust, distilled of all pretense,
To sudden beauty in another's face-

It is the child in us who loves.