Winter is my favorite time of year. Frigid days mean thick wool sweaters and puffy jackets that forgive even the most decadent of diets. My memories of childhood winters include coming in from the snow and enjoying cups of melted chocolate diluted with a dash of whole milk and topped with globs of gooey marshmallow and foamy whipped cream followed by a tall bowl of thick and hearty beef stew spooned fresh off the stove. This would of course be served with a generous cut of crusty bread. I can hear the scraping of bread against ceramic as I imagine mopping up the savory last drops of a filling winter supper. By the time talk of dessert would come, I would hardly be able to keep my eyes open, but then again, I was only eight years old. I believe there would be talk of coffee with brandy or Irish cream added. If you have never passed a snowy winter afternoon in this fashion I suggest correcting this immediately.
These are not the only pleasures

