I named my blog On Halcyon Road for lots of reasons. First, because I love old, dated words. Though halcyon isn't yet an entry in the Dictionary of Lost Words, it must be on the waiting list.
Second, halcyon is a romantic word that brings back wonderful memories of my Irish American grandparents who lived on Halcyon Road. Here's a picture of my grandparents as I remember them. They are standing in front of the church where my parents were married.
I can still hear my Dad talking about Halcyon Road. My mother maintained that Duff (her nickname for him) sounded like a character straight out of a Damon Runyon novel. When my dad talked about his
parents, instead of calling them by their names he'd refer to their house -- "I spoke to Halcyon Road today”. Turns out, halcyon means tranquil and free from disturbance or care, a definition that perfectly suits my memories of those days.
My grandmother, Ann Walsh Duffy, was a
wonderful cook who kept a beautiful house, as they used to say. Every Sunday,
Gram and Gramp invited their children over for dinner with their families. We’d all arrive in the early
afternoon, soon after noon Mass, still wearing our “Sunday clothes”. The house would smell wonderful. There was usually lamb or beef roasting in oven.
Thanks to Gram -- and Mark Bittman -- I’ve learned how to
cook and serve a delicious Roast Lamb. Following Mark's simple instructions, the lamb is always cooked perfectly. To make sure the roast isn't overcooked, I always (alright, not always. Mostly my husband Matthew does this) take the lamb out of the oven “when it
reaches 130 for medium rare (125 for very rare) in its thickest part (check it
in several places)”. 
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