A Carol for Mrs. Dickens by Rebecca Connolly

 

A Carol for Mrs. Dickens is a super cozy take on the classic Christmas vibe, putting Catherine Dickens, Charles Dickens’ wife, front and center instead of old Scrooge. It’s 1851, and Catherine’s feeling wiped out from juggling eight kids (with another on the way), throwing epic holiday parties, and keeping up with her husband’s over-the-top Christmas obsession. A magical sprig of holly sends her on a trip down memory lane, helping her rediscover why she used to love the season. It’s got that warm, Dickensian Christmas glow, but feels fresh with its focus on Catherine’s personal journey.

 The writing pulls you right into Victorian London, think twinkling lights, bustling markets, and all the holiday feels. Catherine’s memory-hopping adventures are vivid and heartfelt, making you root for her to find her spark again. That said, the story drags a bit in spots, and I wished it dug deeper into why Catherine’s so down instead of leaning on the whole “count your blessings” angle. A little more focus on her struggles and a stronger wrap-up would’ve made her journey hit even harder.

Still, this book’s a total holiday gem. It’s warm, touching, and perfect for curling up with on a winter night. It skips the ghosts of A Christmas Carol but keeps the heart, showing how small moments of love and connection can bring back the magic. If you’re picking one Christmas read this season, A Carol for Mrs. Dickens is a solid bet for something sweet and meaningful without being too heavy. 

 You can order a copy here.

 

Disclaimer: I received an advanced digital copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

 As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Persimmon Applesauce Spice Muffins: Autumn’s Best-Kept Secret (Only Here for October, November & December!)

 

There are many reasons that I like fall, one of which is that it is persimmon season. I’m talking about Melissa’s gorgeous, speckled, cinnamon-kissed Cinnamon Persimmons that taste like autumn baked a pie and forgot to tell anyone. They are sweet, fragrant, and, cruelly, only available October through December. Blink and they’re gone until next year. 

So when my box arrived, I did what any sane person would do: I turned them into the most tender, fragrant, nutty, spice-flecked muffins imaginable. These Persimmon Applesauce Spice Muffins are moist beyond belief (thank you, applesauce + persimmon pulp tag team), warmly spiced, and crowned with a crunchy, sparkly topping that makes every bite feel like a spicy hug. 

They’re also secretly nutritious, bursting with vitamins A and C, fiber, and antioxidants, so you can feel quite virtuous if you want to enjoy two for breakfast and trust me, you will! Or serve them beside soup or a salad at dinner. You can sneak one at midnight, I’ll never tell. They are welcome anywhere, anytime, by anyone with taste buds.  What a lovely addition they would make at a holiday brunch.

Persimmon Applesauce Spice Muffins

(Makes 12 standard or 10 jumbo muffins)

For the muffins

1½ c. flour

1½ t. baking powder

½ t. baking soda

1 t. cinnamon

½ t. allspice

¼ t. freshly grated nutmeg

¼ t. salt

2 extra-large eggs

1 c. packed dark brown sugar

½ c. + 3 T. butter, melted

½ c. unsweetened applesauce

½ c. persimmon pulp (from 2 ripe Melissa’s Cinnamon Persimmons — see note)

¾ c. coarsely chopped pecans

For the sparkle topping

2 T. sugar

¼ t. cinnamon

¼ t. allspice

¼ t. freshly grated nutmeg

To make persimmon pulp: Cut persimmons in half, scoop out the flesh (discard any seeds/skin), and blend until creamy. It will look like sunset in a jar.

Preheat oven to 400°F. Grease your muffin tin generously (or use tulip liners for that bakery look).

 Whisk together all dry ingredients in a medium bowl.

 In a large bowl, whisk eggs and brown sugar until thick and creamy, then stream in the melted butter. Stir in applesauce and that glorious persimmon pulp.

 Gently fold in the dry ingredients until just barely combined — lumps are fine, overmixing is not. Fold in pecans.

Using an ice-cream scoop, fill muffin cups two-thirds full (or three-quarters if you’re making jumbos like I did).

Mix the topping ingredients and sprinkle generously over each muffin. 

Bake 20 minutes for standard size, 25 minutes for jumbo, or until puffed, golden, and a toothpick comes out with just a few moist crumbs.

 Cool in the pan 5 minutes, then loosen with a knife and transfer to a rack. Try to wait until they’re merely warm before devouring.

These muffins keep beautifully for 3 days at room temperature (as if they’ll last that long) or freeze for up to 2 months. They toast up like a dream.

 If you can get your hands on Cinnamon Persimmons this season, promise me you’ll make these. Your kitchen will smell like pure magic, and everyone who tastes them will think you’re a baking genius.

Happy (very short) persimmon season. Let’s make every bite count. 

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Effortless Small-Batch Caramelized Onions in a 2-Quart Slow Cooker

 

I’m obsessed with the sweet, jammy magic of caramelized onions, but standing over a skillet for an hour? Hard pass. That’s why I downsized my old overnight crockpot method into a tiny 2-quart version — just enough golden goodness for topping steaks, smashing onto burgers, or turning a humble grilled cheese into a masterpiece.

Grab a mandoline (or spiralizer), toss everything in, and let the slow cooker do the heavy lifting. By dinner, you’ll have silky, deeply flavored onions ready to steal the show—no babysitting required.

Slow Cooker Caramelized Onions (Small Batch)

1½ T. butter

2 medium Melissa’s yellow onions, thinly sliced

1 small Melissa’s red onion, thinly sliced

1 small Melissa’s shallot, thinly sliced

1 t. Melissa’s minced garlic

1 t. Worcestershire sauce

⅛ t. Montreal Steak Seasoning

⅛ t. freshly ground black pepper

Salt to taste

 Turn your 2-quart slow cooker to Low. Drop in the butter and let it melt while you slice.

Use a mandoline or spiralizer for speed; aim for ⅛-inch slices.

 Pile onions, shallot, and garlic (if using) over the butter. Drizzle with Worcestershire, sprinkle steak seasoning and pepper; stir to combine.

 Cover and cook on Low 8-10 hours. Stir only if you walk by.

 Remove lid for the final 1-1½ hours to evaporate liquid and intensify color/flavor.

Cool, then refrigerate (1 week) or freeze (3 months) in small portions.

Freeze in ice-cube trays for instant burger upgrades.

These onions are sweet, savory, and stupidly versatile. Mound them on a cheeseburger, stir into French onion dip, or crown a perfectly seared steak. Your future self (and your taste buds) will thank you.

 Yield: ¾–1 cup

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Blooming Brilliance: La Fleur – The Most Stunning Board Game for Garden Lovers and Family Game Nights!

Oh, how I longed for those magical "Family Game Nights" as an only child, peeking enviously at my friends huddled around the dining table, laughter echoing as they dove into board games. Fast-forward to today, and I've finally found my dream game: La Fleur, a breathtaking strategy game that transports you straight to the opulent Rococo gardens of 18th-century France. As a self-proclaimed plant whisperer, container gardener, herb grower, and filler of every nook with greenery, this gem hit me like a sunbeam through a greenhouse window. If you're like me, obsessed with flowers and foliage, prepare to fall head over heels!

Picture this: You step into the shoes of a garden enthusiast vying to build the most irresistible chateau garden, luring visitors from across the globe to your lavish garden party. The artwork? Pure poetry. Historical illustrations and paintings by masters like Pierre-Joseph Redouté (the "Raphael of flowers") immerse you in a world of delicate blooms and whimsical elegance. Every card and tile feels like a page ripped from a Rococo-era botanical tome—truly, jaw-droppingly beautiful.

Don't let the historical flair fool you; La Fleur is a breeze to learn. Its intuitive rules mean you can jump right in—no thick rulebooks required. It's a clever strategy game where placement and planning bloom into victory, perfect for 1-4 players aged 8 and up. Sessions last 40-70 minutes, making it ideal for cozy evenings. And the components? Heirloom-quality treasures with intricate details that beg to be touched, rivaling antique books and maps.

 But here's the kicker, La Fleur makes the most wonderful gift imaginable. For botanical buddies, families craving that game-night glow, or anyone who sighs over pretty things (hello, plant ladies!). It's not just fun—it's educational magic for younger players, subtly teaching history, art, and botany through those stunning visuals. Kids (and adults) will learn about Rococo France and legendary artists while plotting their garden empires. Who knew strategy could be this enlightening?

Spotted online, I nearly lost my mind with excitement. If you need a gift that sparks joy, gathers loved ones, and looks like a work of art on the shelf, La Fleur is it. Grab one now and let the garden party begin—who's joining my table?

As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

All Aboard the Christmas Express: A Nostalgic Holiday Tablescape

 

Each December, my dining room transforms into a festive celebration of family memories, cherished collections, and a touch of holiday whimsy. This year’s Christmas table is no exception—layered with beloved pieces gathered over decades, inherited treasures from my mother, and one unforgettable statement centerpiece. I always begin with the foundation: a versatile gingham tablecloth I purchased years ago from Décor Steals. You may remember seeing it last month—its classic pattern is wonderfully adaptable, providing just the right mix of charm and neutrality for any holiday theme I choose. 

The Fitz and Floyd Santa mugs were among my very first holiday tableware purchases back in the 1970s. Their rosy cheeks and old-world charm still delight me after all these years. I even have the matching pitcher, another sentimental favorite that joins the table each Christmas season. 

At each place setting, the layers tell a story of their own. The greenery-and-berry placemats from Pier 1, acquired many years ago, still bring a warm woodland touch. On top of them sit the red dinner plates from Pier 1’s classic Spice Collection, edged with that wonderful nubby texture I’ve always loved. 

 

The green charger plates, made in Italy, once belonged to my mother and now hold a place of honor on my table. Above them rests one of my most treasured seasonal patterns: the “Saint Nick” plates by Josiah Wedgwood & Sons, created exclusively for Williams-Sonoma in 2003. The joyful, nostalgic Santa illustration always brings a smile. 

Bright red stemware from Villeroy & Boch adds a robust pop of holiday color. And beside each plate sits a tiny ceramic holly-leaf bowl—a tradition passed down from my mother. She placed one at each setting every Christmas brunch, always with a single truffle tucked inside. We could hardly wait to see what flavor awaited us each year. These bowls date back to 1986, made by Pia Bone China, and holding them still brings back the warmth of those family mornings. 

 

The napkin rings—also inherited from my mother—were made in the Philippines and add a simple, elegant touch. The flatware is one of the few newer additions to my holiday table: the “Versailles” pattern by KEAWELL, with its delicate, ornamental design that feels effortlessly festive.

 

But the true star of this tablescape is the centerpiece: a sparkling silver tin train stretching a full three feet long. I found it years ago at Josephine’s Tea Room and Gift Shop in Godfrey, Illinois—a charming spot where irresistible décor meets delicious lunches. I spotted the train instantly and knew it needed to come home with me, even though I had no immediate plan for it. Its bright sparkly silver finish, oversized engine, and whimsical track with a gentle hump make it impossible to ignore. 

 

Nearby, a stately Santa figure stands watch—one of the Carolers from Byers’ Choice. I inherited my mother’s entire collection, and this particular Santa always feels right at home next to the gleaming Christmas train. 

 

Snowflake candle holders from Crate & Barrel bring a cozy winter glow (though I use battery-operated tealights these days, complete with a remote -- truly one of the best inventions for holiday decorating). I can tuck them anywhere I please without worrying about open flames. 

 

And, because I can never resist a good pillow, a new find from World Market made its way into the room this year. Did I need another Christmas pillow? Absolutely not. Did I have to have it? Without question.

 Many thanks to Rita of Panoply for organizing this Christmas Tablescape Blog Hop.

 

Click on the links below for more Christmas table inspiration from my blogging friends:

 Panoply - O Christmas Tree Tablescape

Home is Where the Boat Is - Cardinal Christmas with Plaid and Checks

Hyacinths for the Soul - Cozy, Comfy Christmas

Everyday Living - A Victorian Christmas Tablescape

Life and Linda - All Aboard the Polar Express

The Cats Whiskerz - A Christmas Tablescape in Gold, White and Mint

Belle Bleu Interiors - Christmas Traditions

Pandora's Box - A Holiday Breakfast for Two Special Boys

My Thrift Store Addiction - Secret Garden Whimsical Christmas Tablescape

Olla-Podrida - All Aboard the Christmas Express: A Nostalgic Holiday Tablescape

Red Cottage Chronicles - Ralph Lauren Inspired Tablescape

Me and My Captain - Christmas 2025 The Reason for the Season

The Little Yellow Corner Store - A Pretty Poinsettia Tablescape

Dinner at Eight - A Playful Tablesetting for Christmas

Corner of Plaid and Paisley - Oh, Come All Ye Plaid Lovers

Mantel and Table - A Cozy Christmas Tablescape: Simple Ideas for a Beautiful Holiday

Thrifting Wonderland - Vintage Christmas Tablescapes with Thrifted Finds

The Bookish Dilettante - Simple Evergreen Christmas Tablescape

 As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

 This post is linked to: Tablescape Thursday

Cozy Up with Decadent French Hot Chocolate: A Winter Essential

 

As the days grow shorter and the chill in the air sharpens, winter whispers its arrival with promises of snowy evenings and frosty mornings. There's truly nothing better than curling up in front of a crackling fire, wrapped in your favorite blanket, with a steaming cup of hot chocolate in hand. But hold on, let's clarify something important right away: hot cocoa and hot chocolate are two entirely different beasts, and in my book, hot chocolate reigns supreme.

Classic American hot cocoa is often that powdery mix from a packet, diluted with water or milk into a sweet, thin sip that's more about nostalgia than indulgence. Hot chocolate, on the other hand, especially the French variety known as Chocolat Chaud, is a luxurious elixir made from real, high-quality chocolate melted into creamy milk. It's thick, velvety, and intensely flavorful, like drinking a bar of fine chocolate that's been warmed to perfection. No watery aftertaste here; just pure, rich bliss that warms you from the inside out.

This recipe for French hot chocolate is my go-to when I crave that authentic Parisian café vibe at home. It's simple to make, yet feels utterly special. And because it's so decadently rich, you'll want to ditch those oversized mugs and pull out your darling espresso set or tea cups. A small serving is all you need as a little goes a long way, making it perfect for savoring slowly while the fire pops and crackles nearby. 

Chocolat Chaud

Serves 2-3 in small cups

 2 c. whole milk (No Substitutes!!)

5 oz. good quality bittersweet dark chocolate (at least 70% cocoa), finely chopped*

½ t. vanilla extract

Big pinch sea salt

Whipped cream, for serving

 Start by heating the milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat until it's steaming but not boiling—patience is key here to avoid scorching. Remove it from the heat and whisk in the finely chopped chocolate until everything melts into a smooth, glossy mixture. Add the vanilla extract and that big pinch of sea salt to enhance the flavors, and then return the pan to medium heat. Let it simmer for 3 to 4 minutes, whisking occasionally, until it thickens to a silky consistency.

Pour this heavenly concoction into your prettiest small cups—think cappuccino or espresso sizes—and top with a dollop of fresh whipped cream if you're feeling extra indulgent. Sip slowly, letting the warmth and richness envelop you like a cozy hug from winter itself.

 This recipe scales easily—halve it for a solo treat or double up for a gathering. Leftovers? Cool to room temperature, store in an airtight container in the fridge, and reheat gently on the stove or in the microwave.

 Embrace the elegance! Small cups not only match the richness but also make the experience feel more refined, like you're in a quaint French bistro. Fans of "Frasier" may recognize mine.

 Whether you're hosting friends for a winter movie night or treating yourself after a long day, this French hot chocolate elevates the ordinary into something extraordinary. As the fire crackles and the world outside turns white, let this be your ritual of comfort and joy. What's your favorite way to enjoy hot chocolate? Share in the comments below—I'd love to hear!

 *I used my mini Ninja chopper

 As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. 

The Christmas Market Murder by Peter Boland, Reviewed

 

It’s “Cozy up to Christmas Month” here on the blog. Each Sunday you will be treated to a cozy Christmas mystery book review. I love a good Christmas mystery, don't you? I’ve decided to start with The Christmas Market Murder by Peter Boland, Book 6 of 6 in the series of Charity Shop Detective Agency Mysteries.

As delightful as the previous five, this book finds us in the month of November as we return to the drizzly Southbourne, where the air should be thick with festive fizz but is instead laced with suspicion and a dash of danger. Our intrepid trio—Fiona, the sharp-witted organizer; Daisy, the unflappable optimist; and Partial Sue, the gloriously grumpy glue—man their Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop amid a town terrorized by the shadowy "Southbourne Stalker." Footfall's fallen faster than autumn leaves, and the inaugural Christmas market is meant to be the merry miracle: twinkling fairy lights strung through whispering pines, the warm waft of cinnamon churros, and steaming mugs of mulled wine that promise to thaw even the frostiest hearts.

But alas, cheer curdles into chaos when a bloodcurdling scream pierces the pine-scented peace. Postmaster Scott Preston is hammering at a locked cabin door—his father's trapped inside, in dire straits. Too late: the elder Preston is found lifeless, the scene suspiciously spick-and-span for a man who wouldn't know "tidy" if it bit him on the bum. The police? Quick as a wink, they dub it suicide. Scott? Not buying a bar of it. Enter our sleuthing septuagenarians, roped in by not one but *two* desperate pleas to unravel this locked-room lollygag of a mystery. With suspects slinking about like escaped elves and clues knottier than fairy-light snarls, the ladies must mince through malice before another soul snuffs it under the mistletoe.

Bolland weaves a web that's equal parts heartwarming and hair-raising—think locked-room conundrums with a side of sausage rolls and sly seaside banter. The characters? Positively peachy: Partial Sue's deadpan quips had me chortling into my cuppa, while Simon Le Bon (yes, *that* Duran Duran nod for the dog) steals scenes with his floppy-eared charm. Rain-lashed high streets and high jinks aside, this cozy caper grapples with gritty realities like shuttered shops and community grit, elevating it above the usual Yuletide fluff. I devoured it in one snowy sitting (well, rainy one, anyway), gasping at twists I never clocked and sighing contentedly at the resolution. New to Southbourne? No sweat—you'll feel like a local by page three. A cracker of a finale that leaves you craving mince pies and more mysteries. Five steaming mugs out of five—pour yourself a hot toddy and tuck in!

You can order a copy here – what a great gift this would be!

Disclaimer: I received an advanced digital copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

 

As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.