Kersten Christianson

Baked Dutch Baby Under Snow Warning

When the word snow appears in the forecast, you push back your cocoon of covers and slipper-step down to the kitchen. Outside, gale from the Gulf of Alaska. Wind and temperature change offer a creaky song to your snug house; the roof groans like a banshee, drafts through the cracks of the uneven door. Alder, cedar, spruce limbs shadow puppet against orange streetlight and in the warm glow of your kitchen, your eye wanders to the fruit bowl to count the remaining Honey Crisp apples. The coffee is on. Snow shovels and ice melt poise ready at the maw of the garage as you peel, core, and dice fruit into piles, consider the coming construct and breakdown of the soon-snow berms that will build at the base of the driveway in the blue-black light of afternoon. The woolen mittens your Finnish friend knit and mailed to you from Paris last winter, tiny green seahorses frolicking among pink coral in sea of navy, are stacked by the door with wrap-around scarf and woolen felt hat. Melt the butter, add cinnamon, stir in the apples. Whip the milk, the eggs, add the white flurry of flour. Pour the batter into the pan, a blast/squall/tempest to wash the dark cold with sweet honey-scent and warmth.                                                                 

Dutch baby to warm
the shoveler’s winter-cold
hands. Cold blanket hush.

Kersten Christianson derives inspiration from wild, wanderings, and road trips. She authored Curating the House of Nostalgia (Sheila-Na-Gig, 2020). Kersten lives in Sitka, Alaska where she eyeballs the tides, shops Old Harbor Books, and hoards smooth ink pens.