Cinnamon rolls and Cara Cara oranges

I shouldn't even mention the cinnamon rolls in this post because I didn't make them from scratch--these are the frozen ones from Rhodes, but they were still good. This morning, I slept luxuriously until 9, then got up and made coffee to enjoy with a cinnamon roll and a deep pink Cara Cara orange. As I peeled the orange, little clouds of citrusy mist bloomed around my fingers. I hadn't tried Cara Cara oranges before--surprisingly mild without a typical citrus twang, they had a gently sweet flavor. The first few bites after a bite of cinnamon roll tasted too bland because of the more intense sugar from the icing, but once my palate cleared, I could better enjoy the delicate flavor.

This breakfast puts me in mind of one of my favorite Wallace Stevens poems--one I hadn't thought about in a few years--called Sunday Morning. True, it's Saturday morning, and the bird on my shoulder while I ate my breakfast was a real white-faced cockatiel, not a green cockatoo printed on a rug (by the way, I guess Wallace Stevens didn't know that cockatoos aren't green--he was probably thinking of a macaw). But still, this is the feeling I had. I was sitting in a chair by the window, although the day is gray and cloudy.

I won't print it all because it's long--just the relevant excerpt:

1.
Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
As a calm darkens among water-lights.
The pungent oranges and bright, green wings
Seem things in some procession of the dead,
Winding across wide water, without sound.
The day is like wide water, without sound.
Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet...

As for what I'm dreaming about: I'm dreaming that the snow-burdened world outside the window will wake up! Wake up! Warm up!

My next ambition is to work through Rick Bayless's cookbooks, recipe by recipe, so I can teach myself (or he can teach me) authentic Mexican cooking. A nearby Mexican grocery I recently discovered should be able to supply me with all the necessary ingredients. When we visit Oaxaca for Christmas this year, I want to know what I'm tasting, and have a basis on which to base any additional cooking wisdom I might learn there. So, stay tuned for some Mexican cooking!

"I am content when wakened birds,
Before they fly, test the reality
Of misty fields, by their sweet questionings..."