The trouble with having a real-life blog as opposed to a slick, editorial calendar, planning-ahead blog, is that here it is on February 22nd, and I’d like to tell you about a perfect Valentine’s Day dessert. What can I say? I made this last Tuesday to follow Manhattans and steak au poivre. The cocktail assisted in my success where women before me have tried and failed: I got my husband to watch The Notebook. We drank red wine and spooned this dark chocolate mousse out of ramekins topped with whisper-sweet whipped cream, and of course, I sobbed. Ali and Noah do that to me.

And while the eating of this chocolate mousse is pretty great, I might argue that the making of it is the real fun part. It’s like playing magician. This recipe has been going round and round the blogosphere charming and delighting all with its dubious simplicity: Melt chocolate in water. Pour melted chocolate and water into a bowl submerged in an ice water bath. Whisk and whisk and whisk and then, when you’re starting to think, this totally isn’t going to work, this recipe is bunk, the mixture starts to thicken. If you’ve ever made mayonnaise, the process will feel familiar. In essence, this chocolate mousse is an emulsification of chocolate. I mean, whoa. I used a 72% bittersweet chocolate, but next time, I think I’ll use something a little sweeter. (Can you imagine with Lindt’s Touch of Sea Salt?)

Too late for Valentine’s Day, yes, but not too late for your next romancing dinner at home or get-your-cry-on viewing of The Notebook.

Hervé This’ Chocolate Mousse
via Food52

3/4 cup (6 ounces) water
8 ounces chocolate (choose a high quality chocolate you love)
ice cubes
whipped cream for topping (optional)

Pour water into a saucepan. Then, over medium-low heat, whisk in the chocolate. The result is a homogenous sauce.

Put the saucepan in a bowl partly filled with ice cubes (or pour into another bowl over the ice — it will chill faster), then whisk the chocolate sauce, either manually with a whisk or with an electric mixer (if using an electric mixer, watch closely — it will thicken faster). Whisking creates large air bubbles in the sauce, which steadily thickens. After a while strands of chocolate form inside the loops of the whisk. Pour or spoon immediately into ramekins, small bowls or jars and let set.

Note: Three things can go wrong. Here’s how to fix them. If your chocolate doesn’t contain enough fat, melt the mixture again, add some chocolate, and then whisk it again. If the mousse is not light enough, melt the mixture again, add some water, and whisk it once more. If you whisk it too much, so that it becomes grainy, this means that the foam has turned into an emulsion. In that case simply melt the mixture and whisk it again, adding nothing.

Serve immediately, or refrigerate. Top with whipped cream if desired.

Tell us about your blog, Yes and Yes.

I started writing my blog after reading blogs for years and years. There was a pretty specific type of blog that I was always looking for – something funny and smart with really varied content. Sort of like a magazine curated by a super cool friend. I couldn’t find anything like that, so I just decided to make it myself. Of course, I don’t always succeed at being funny and smart, but I continue to try really hard on a pretty regular basis.

I didn’t have many expectations when I started my blog––I just saw it as a place to start writing again and a place to write about things that I, as a reader, wished I could find on the internet. The biggest surprises? The totally incredible, completely insane doors it has opened. It blows my mind almost every day. I spent the first year of self-employment waiting for the other shoe to drop. Who am I to be so happy? Who am I to have everything I want?

Who and/or what inspires you?
I’m inspired by just about anyone who makes an active choice about what they want from life and goes after it. Sometimes that life is working your ass off to get the corner office. Or dropping out of grad school because you realize it’s not right for you. Or marrying someone you know is meant for you, even if your friends don’t see it. At the risk of waxing cliche, anybody who lives a conscious, considered life inspires me.

What’s some of the best advice you’ve ever gotten?
“90% of success is showing up.” Good lord, this is true. I think half the reason my blog is successful is because a new post goes up every day at 6:00 am, seven days a week. And half the reason I’m successful as a writer is because I return emails in a prompt manner and deliver work on budget and on time. Never underestimate how much people appreciate reliability.

What’s your ideal day look like?
Getting up without an alarm clock (which I do most days), sharing a great breakfast with my favorite people, poking through thrift stores with my BFF, nap, 2 hour hike, make a big dinner, drink wine and laugh with more of my favorite people.

Do you have any daily/weekly rituals/traditions that make your everyday a little special?
I’m a bit of a workaholic and left to my own devices, I can let a whole day slip by returning emails and drinking coffee. So I literally schedule something fun into every day. Like, I write ‘Fun Thing’ on my daily to-do list. This week my fun things were: trying a new donut shop, eating at a fancy French place, watching The Fantastic Mr. Fox with a friend, splashing out on a haircut a fancy salon and having lots of kitty wrestling time.

Share your favorites: What blogs do you regularly read?
My current faves are: Smaggle, Just a Titch, Mighty Girl. They’re not really blogs, but I love Jezebel and Brainpickings, too.

What’s on your bedside table?
I just finished All Over But The Shoutin’ and I’m about to start The Attack. Nothing like reading about suicide bombers in the depth of a Minnesota winter!

Complete this sentence: I feel most joyfully alive when _________________.
Doing something new, in the company of someone I love.

I used to read (and never comment) on a blog by a woman in Boston who took a picture of her outfit everyday in her full-length mirror. I felt creepy about my silent spying, but I couldn’t stop. Her systems fascinated me. She always turned out one leg at the same 45-degree angle. She wore her pants in a flowy, work-trouser way with conservative twin sets. She knew a bunch of ways to tie a scarf. It was like In Style come to life. I didn’t really care for the way she dressed, but I admired her tirelessly methodical approach. Her goal was to create a capsule wardrobe of perfect basics, modeled on our ideal of what the so-chic French do. (She also shared what she ate everyday which also aimed to follow a French model: cream sauces, good pastries, strong coffee, small portions, no snacks. The occasional bag of Doritos worked there way in because, well, shit gets real.)

I am obsessed with systems in an almost I long to be a left-brained person way. Linear, pragmatic, solution-based, I’ve convinced myself that systems can be created to crack the code on looking chic everyday, cooking dinner, staying fit, saving money, and producing good creative work. According to this as yet untested theory of mine, the only difficult part should be finding your system.

I’m about halfway through creating my Style Statement. I am loving this book with its pages upon pages of questions for self-reflection: What’s your definition of sexy? Who embodies a sense of style that speaks to you? Where do you feel your best? The end goal of this book is to come up with a two word catch-all, not only for your wardrobe, but as guiding principles for all that you do in life. Your style statement should represent you at your most you.

How’s that for a system: if we can only pinpoint the words that break what we care most about into its most basic form, than we’ll have the road map to buy the right clothes and take the right job. If all of our actions, minute to life-changing, could come directly in line with our most true to us principles, everything would fall into place. We’d have fewer things, but each of them beloved. We’d pull ourselves away from the computer to make something simple and wholesome for dinner. We’d take right action to support what we care about.

I think this is why I keep scouring the web for those images of sweet, perfect inspiration: the photo that captures a desired mood, a couch that fits the imprint of your life, boots that magically work with skirts and pants and go from work to cocktails. I love words, but they can exhaust me. (Just watch me go…on and on and on…)Have you ever been sick of your own voice, or the things you say over and over, the boundaries of your vocabulary or hitting the same problems again and again? But images are appealing in the same way perfume is. They evoke, they tap into your imagination, hit some primordial part of the brain deeper and more buried than language.

And so it goes, perhaps, that I’ve been thinking a lot about clothes. It turns out that I don’t have all the items a lady with a big job needs; I’m long on full-skirted vintage dresses, short on blazers and flouncy lady blouses. So I invited a few of the most stylish (and organized) women I know to come over on Saturday and help me edit my closet.

They meant business, and were not distracted by champagne and chocolate croissants. As they sat on my bed and I faced the dark closet, I felt overwhelmed. Historically, this is when I would become distracted by a box of old photos on the top shelf. But they cheered me on! They told me to sew down pockets. They asked me to look at my face when I put an item on (scrunched, panic, and discomfort were never a good sign). They made lists of what to buy, what brands to consider. In a couple of hours, we had a huge discard pile of things that didn’t make me feel good, didn’t look good, and no longer fit.

I felt especially sad to giveaway a red and white striped top with puff sleeves. I had worn it in college on nights out with high-waisted pencil skirts. It had a cigarette burn in the torso from a girl who danced a little too wildly near me at a bar, and it now hit me on my ribcage instead of right at the waist. Maybe with a longer layer underneath or a higher skirt it could work. “It looks like it would fit a child,” they said. And they were right: it was the shirt of a free-wheeling girl who rode a bicycle in red high heels and showed up in morning English classes still smelling like cigarettes.

After they all left, I had a much-emptied closet filled with some gems. There were two garbage bags by the front door to take to the consignment store down the street. As I picked up the coffee cups and empty champagne glasses in the bedroom, I looked at the list they had been making. Somewhere between fun lady blouse and dark jeans for work was a red and white striped top with 3/4 length sleeves. I could buy another, perhaps with puff sleeves, and walk around my neighborhood wearing practical, yet stylish shoes and show up for work smelling like fresh-roasted coffee beans and just-cut gardenias. I didn’t feel quite as nostalgic anymore.

They say this in all the books about simplifying and decluttering but I got it then: when you let go of items that remind you of the past, you make room for things for your present. How sad to hold on to a shirt that doesn’t fit me anymore because it reminds me of a particular kind of fun I used to have. Why not find a new shirt, one that looks fantastic and promises fun, and wear it for all the new adventures I want to have?

So, questions: Am I alone in my dream of creating these magic-working systems? Do you dream of having fewer things, each of the beloved and perfect? Have you managed to assemble a work uniform that is professional yet personal? Do you have a Style Statement?

Yesterday, my doctor told me winter’s almost over, but I feel a little dubious about that. I never even got my winter look down (unless you count wearing the same J. Crew outlet striped tunic t-shirt with rotating bottoms). So until the crocuses start coming up for real, not in this totally misguided and confused way, I’ll be listening to this mix and half-hoping it snows one more time. Happy weekend!

Also on Spotify

I think a lot about the creative process: how there are sparks of ideas and bursts of activity followed by periods of inaction. That period of inertia is what always drove me mad. What are we doing if not getting better and moving forward? Something important, it turns out. Like a field that’s given up its harvest, we’re lying fallow: rejuvenating, gathering reserves, collecting our energy for the next big burst.

This, I think, is what is so sweet about winter. When the world slows down, as it naturally does this time of year, we can take the time we need to prepare ourselves for our next surge of growth–whatever that may be. And so we stay close to home, write in our journals, practice yoga, linger over our coffee, and take the time we need to reflect. Its not laziness and it’s not inaction; it’s the practice of shoring up, and equipping ourselves with the care, thought, and ideas for whatever comes next.

In Chinese Medicine, winter is associated with the element water. Water is “the stage of energy before structure; it is potential,” writes Lorena Monda. “To access this phase of transformation, we must create space and quiet within us to mindfully look and listen. We direct this deep looking and listening to the world inside and around us. It is here that we begin to know what we want or what is necessary. It is here that we set our intention.”

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. ––Edith Sitwell

Light candles. Even when we’re watching TV and eating dinner on the coffee table, I let a tall pillar candle flicker in view. Scatter candles in the bedroom, neglected corners, the bathroom, and anywhere the flame can bounce off mirrored surfaces to bring a little more warmth home.

Bring in nature. A basket of pine cones. Forced bulbs. Branches of bittersweet on the table or a jade plant by a reading chair. The outside world is sleeping, not dead, and these little touches remind us of that.

Inspire lingering. Encourage couch-reading and daydreaming with linger-long touches: a cozy blanket on the back of a sofa, a soft duvet, big pillows to prop up on for bedtime reading.

Cook. Is there no other time of year more inspiring to stand by the stove and stir, chop this and that, plop it in a roasting pan, and go lie on the couch with a crossword while it roasts away? Also: soup.

Winter’s power is deep…It is a time to conserve energy and resources and not be wasteful with your active, outward energy.”–Staying Healthy with the Seasons

Movement. Spin class might not feel appealing right now, and there’s a reason for that. Chinese medicine says winter is a time for gentle movement, like stretching and brisk walks. Take a walk when the sun is brightest and drop into yoga or dance classes (seriously, zumba is fun!).

Self-Care. I’m fascinated by the tradition of saunas and ritual, social bathing in other cultures. What a beautifully symbolic––and pleasurable!––way to slough off the old and begin anew. Seek out a Korean spa, a holistic-type hot tub by-the-hour rental (they exist!), or as I sometimes do, try to luxe-up the sauna and steam room at the gym with essential oils. Brave and hardy souls can DIY the hot-cold experience in their own shower. There’s also dry-brushing, self-massage, and an old-fashioned soak in the tub. No matter your method, the idea is to cleanse, purify, relax, and to treat your body well. When you’re done, swath yourself in soft fabrics–silk, flannel, crisp cotton.

Reframe the season, letting the cold weather be an impetus in getting your needs met, rather than a hindrance.” ––Aruni Nan Futuronsky

Learn. I spent the last three weekends sitting cross-legged in a yoga studio with eight other students and one teacher. For seven hours a day, we practiced together, and helped each other into handstands; we read philosophy and talked about mind-bending cosmology. I brought home a manual and homework, and felt so happy to be reminded of what it’s like to be a student.

Allow yourself to be inspired by something new, whether that means staying home with a book or podcast, or venturing out for a reading,  museum talk, or a knitting drop-in hour. Whatever you choose, learning can bring some freshness to a gray season.

Pranayama. Alternate nostril breathing, or nadi shodhana pranayama, calms and quiets the mind. If you’re curious about meditation but feel intimidated or directionless, alternate nostril breathing is a great place to start. This rhythmic method of even breathing in and out through one nostril at a time requires enough concentration that your mind may be less likely to drift to your grocery list or what happened at work. Read how to practice alternate nostril breathing here.

Connect and nourish. Fewer seasonal obligations–goodbye office parties and cookie exchanges–mean you can focus your social energy where you truly want to. Connect with people you really like in ways that are meaningful and nourishing.

Reflect. The quiet potential of winter might not be best-suited for taking on big projects and initiating grand plans, but it is the perfect time to take stock and prepare. What makes you feel most alive? How can you bring more joy and gratitude into your daily life? What do you need more of to feel your best, and what could you do without? Let yourself be drawn inward and see what fires are glowing there.

Photos: 1. Nordic trees linen napkins, 2. cabin in the snow, 3. soup, 4. fireplace in the bedroom, 5. how to do a self-portrait, 6. candles, 7. birch logs, 8. felt coffee cozies, 9. tea

Words have felt like quite a lot of bother lately, but pictures–pictures feel good. I’ve fallen deeply and quietly into the land of Pinterest and Etsy looking for winter images that feel how I want to in the deep of January: calm, cozy, quiet, creative. On the heels of a weekend like this one, where I woke up to a covering of snow on the wet gray streets and begrudgingly pulled myself out of bed and out of the house, it feels good to be quiet. Monday, the snow melted, and I walked in the rain to get the crossword (a new favorite winter-quiet activity!). Things are good, and even, but I want the muffled quiet that comes with more snow. And so, for a change, I’m making collages instead of droning on and on. You know how it is, I know you do.

As soon as I read the subtitle I knew it was for us: Simple, Splendid Food that French Women Cook Every Day. Yes, please! This is a cookbook that eschews grand to-dos and difficult preparations in favor of bringing the special into the everyday, or as author Wini Moranville puts it, ce soir. Cassoulet is made approachable and ingredients lists become procurable, all while still staying true to the soul of French cooking (no cans of this or that here). There’s a spirit in this book that I found infectious and inspiring. Go ahead, add a flourish to a simple pork chop (it takes an extra minute or two), make do with what you have (use the maple syrup instead of honey, if that’s what’s on hand), and open the front door to your friends, even if all you offer is a glass of wine and a hunk of cheese. And that, perhaps, was my favorite moment of the book: when a wise cookbook author reminds us we don’t always have to cook. “If the task of cooking up something for a simple drink is going to keep you from inviting someone over,” she advises, “then don’t cook––but pick up the phone anyway.” Leave a comment by midnight EST, Sunday, January 22 to win a copy. One Pink of Perfection reader will be chosen at random. Bonne chance!

Update 1/23: Congrats to the lucky, Sara! And thanks to all for entering!

• One of my projects for the new year is to give my cubicle a makeover. If I can’t manage to get together all the ingredients myself, I’m loving these terrarium kits on Etsy.

• Have you tried whole parsley leaves in your salads (as in this kale salad)? In winter salads, its fresh grassiness is a revelation. Pictured above (from left to right): fennel, red onion, and parsley salad; winter salad with lemon-yogurt dressing

• Have you ever taken an e-course? Have you wanted to? I’m taking Susannah Conway’s Unravelling course and loving it, and my mind’s been percolating away at what a Pink of Perfection e-course would look like. Would you be interested? What would you want to see covered? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

• I’ve been searching for a Cathrineholm teapot, and this might be a perfect stand-in until I find the perfect one. (How much do you love that the name of this Etsy store is During Quiet Time?)

• Do you know of a charity that helps provide low-income girls and young women with access to tutors, mentors, college scholarship money, and other resources that help level the educational playing field? Please tell me–Pink of Perfection wants to give them money!

After my usual holiday over-doing it, It feels good to board the healthy eating bandwagon. And while it’s probably not the best habit to bounce from extremes (steak, bourbon, gravy to kale, green tea, soup), it does make me very eager for the change. I was stuffed with cookies and cheese; it felt good to alter course.

And perhaps a little surprisingly, it tasted delicious. After my brother-in-law sent me a link to My New Roots, I started seeing this vibrant Danish blog mentioned everywhere. She designed the recipes below, and they’re wonderful.

One of the recurring questions among my friends is, “Why is it so hard to do what’s good for you?” Cause lord knows it usually is. But there’s also a kind of snowball effect once you get going with decisions that affect your well-being. When you feel good, you want to keep feeling good. You begin to even crave the habits that make you feel bright, content, and fluid.

Here’s an example: I spent this past weekend in the first part of an Anusara yoga immersion. Going in, I was a bit terrified of what six hours of yoga two days in a row would feel like. I should have been more concerned about returning to my desk Monday morning and sitting in a chair for eight hours. Come evening, I’d usually rather watch another rerun of Roseanne than put on yoga pants right before bed. But on Monday evening a few pre-bedtime twists was the right choice for me.

The ultimate challenge, I think, is getting from feeling bad, mired in habits, depressed, whatever the current stuckness may be, to finding a spark that can spur a new kind of decision. Many of us tend to force ourselves out of it, but a friend of mine takes a more gentle approach. A change can start with the smallest choice, she says, and we’ll bring it on when we’re ready. I find that comforting. We don’t need to strong arm ourselves into new habits or new eras; it’s not a matter of force, it’s a matter of ease. And when we’re ready we’ll know it. I read a section in a book last night on receptivity that seems fitting:

Receptivity is a practice many people find difficult, because we live in a culture that says things are accomplished primarily through doing. This attitude creates a bias toward knowing, planning, taking action, a kind of predatory attitude toward life––where we decide what we want, focus on it, and go for it at all costs. But how many of us have done this only to be dissatisfied with what we get?  ––The Practice of Wholeness

Being receptive seems to fit beautifully with back to basics and leaning into the life we have now: being open to ourselves, our thoughts, our sense of whimsy, being open to the world around us and the people and obstacles we meet each day, and being open to every joy, quirk, and marvel in the moment to moment moment of the everyday. “We may experience a sense of magic or serendipity––wherein events happen which fit our needs perfectly. Seemingly remarkable coincidences [...] are the result of our receptivity.”

And so back to feeling good, and specifically these recipes. Please, dear heavens, don’t see these dishes or this post as an admonition. If anything, it’s an invitation to be receptive to where you are, wherever you are, right now. If they recipes appeal to your senses at this moment in time, I promise they’re both really lovely. And no one’s saying you can’t eat a little kale slaw before a nice steak, either.

Spiced Butternut Squash and Apple Soup
adapted slightly from Whole Living

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 inch fresh ginger, grated (2 tablespoons)
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon garam masala
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
dash ground cloves
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
1 tart apple, peeled, quartered, and chopped
4 cups chopped butternut squash
Coarse salt and pepper

Heat olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and garlic and cook until tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Add ginger, turmeric, cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add carrots, apple, squash, and 3 cups water. Bring to a boil; cover partially and reduce to a simmer. Season with salt and pepper.

Cook until vegetables are tender, about 20 minutes. Let cool slightly.

Working in batches, puree until smooth in a blender. Adjust seasoning, if necessary.

Kale Slaw with Red Cabbage and Carrots
from Whole Living
Serves 4

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon apple-cider vinegar
Coarse salt and pepper
3 cups mixed shredded kale and red cabbage
1 carrot, peeled and julienned
1/4 cup fresh parsley leaves
2 tablespoons diced red onion
3 tablespoons sunflower seeds
3 tablespoons pumpkin seeds

In a small bowl, whisk olive oil, mustard, and apple-cider vinegar. Season with salt and pepper.

In another bowl, combine kale, cabbage, carrot, parsley, and red onion with sunflower, pumpkin, and hemp seeds.

Season with salt and pepper, drizzle with dressing, and toss to coat.