When we were trying to figure out who in the world would come to the frozen depths of North Dakota last winter to watch our daughter while The Professor and I drove the slick highway one hour east to Fargo to deliver our next child we were really at a loss. How easy it would’ve been if we lived in the same place as at least one family member. “Hey, can you come over here I think I may be having a baby right now.”
Lots of people offered but the reality of getting here in late December can be tricky at best. Once we went to Minneapolis on a spur-of-the-moment weekend trip over New Year’s Eve—a week later we returned home after they had once again opened the interstate following a 90 car pile up. Ground blizzard is term I was not familiar with until moving here, that’s when snow is not necessarily falling from the sky, but blowing around in 40-mile-an-hour wind like a massive, white sand storm, blinding everything in sight.
The Professor’s father finally agreed to fly up from Dallas (no interstate travel required). Packed in his suitcase were foot-long quills of fragrant canela or Ceylon cinnamon. This softer, more delicate cinnamon is commonly brewed as a tea or used to add subtle spice to mole sauce, but my first inclination was to steep it with cream and sugar and spin it into ice cream.