comfort.

apples. cinnamon. brown sugar. butter. flour. and oats.

the simple ritual of turning the apple in your hand, peeling away the ruby skin. the sound the knife makes as it slices through the white flesh of the fruit, the gentle thump of the apple cubes hitting the bottom of the dish.

there’s nothing quite like apple crisp when it comes to comfort food.

after an incredibly busy two weeks, all i wanted was a weekend in our apartment to stir a pot of bubbling soup, to listen to the hiss of the apple crisp in the oven, to sip red wine around a table with my family.

many thanks to the amazing bloggers who wrote such lovely stories about the time they spent at the event i’ve been preparing for the past five months. sweet satisfaction.