"After Lunch" by Po Chu-i + Simple Scones

Just over a year ago, I visited London again for the first time in eight years. Except for my favorite cafe in Bloomsbury that had closed, the city hadn't changed. There was still soot on the churches, black cabs darting through narrow streets, a hint of gray light as the sun starts to set. This time, no longer on a student's budget, we had afternoon tea at the Dorchester. It had all the pomp and circumstance you'd expect like perfectly tender scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. But what I love most about afternoon tea is the state of mind. There's something about it, isn't there? Pausing from work from 3:30 to 4 pm each day, brewing a dark cup of tea, watching cream swirl in the teacup, taking that first, hot sip. It truly helps you relax and ease into things. It's the perfect time for a mental break, too, when you can let yourself wander, mull over a creative project, or daydream. I so wish we took this ritual more seriously in America, that it was part of our culture so that not having tea would seem, well, uncivilized. A girl can dream.

"The Pear" by Jane Kenyon + Vanilla-Scented Pearsauce

Some poems make things simple, recipe-wise. They list a series of ingredients, practically writing the recipe for you, giving your mind a dish before you even finish reading. In this poem, there is none of that. Instead, a single pear, first in the title, then not again until the last stanza, where it's used as a metaphor for the mind in middle age. I hope this is not what I have to look forward to.

"Baskets" by Louise Gluck + Winter Market Salad

It's a somewhat sorrowful beginning, so I apologize I couldn't start the year with a more sprightly piece. There is, however, beauty in the sadness, so much in fact, that the speaker asks the question directly, "How much beauty / can a person bear?"

You'll hear that word a lot here. Speaker. It might seem like the writer and the speaker are interchangeable, but I assure you they are not. It's one of the first lessons I learned in my graduate school workshops. The person sitting across from you may have written the poem, but you can't make assumptions. In some cases, of course, they are the same person, but to maintain some consistency for the sake of discussion, the speaker will be speaking and the writer will be writing.