Eating

Last year, I had the pleasure of penning a little cookbook for Bergdorf Goodman. I was approached in my capacity as a freelance writer, but the offer had a special symmetry, given that I was the copy director in the store's advertising department more than 20 years ago. It was a wonderful immersion into the world of high fashion, the very epicenter of all that was chic at that time. (Some people even referred to the store as "church.") Perhaps my favorite achievement was creating a tagline that appeared for several years on all of BG's communications: The only city in the world. The only store in the city. It really seemed to sum it all up. Which is why I was surprised and delighted to discover, when I received my advance copy, that a version of this appears on the cookbook's back cover: One City. One Store. One Restaurant. Plus ça change, and all that...

Yes, it's another pancake. I'm on a (gluten-free) roll. The dosa is not dissimilar to the blini in that it's also made from a batter that sits around and gets bubbly, but it's got no yeast. Its gentle loft and tang come from a process of natural fermentation. If you live in the city, you might never think about making your own dosas. You're much more likely to head to little India—or to that award-winning dosa cart in Washington Square—and simply indulge your craving without much ado. But those of us out in the sticks have to get creative. We've got to psych ourselves up to scale these culinary walls. Ignorance and inexperience cannot stand in our way. Gotta scratch that dosa itch.

Many great Russian writers, including Chekhov, Pushkin and Gogol, have dedicated plenty of ink to blini. These sturdy yet tender pancakes—originally made from oats but now also from wheat, rye, buckwheat and barley—were made for the pagan festival Maslenitsa, a celebration of the sun that heralded the coming of spring. The blini, round and golden like little suns, were eaten by the dozen in hopes of ensuring a rich harvest. Today, they are made for occasions both celebratory and pedestrian, topped with (or rolled around) a great many fillings, from mushrooms, potatoes and fish to fruit, cheese and honey. Blini are incredibly versatile, as welcome at the breakfast table as they are at the most sophisticated cocktail party. I think it's time to add them to your repertoire.

The guy who plows our driveway is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Every time it snows, he comes by and makes a huge mountain at the end of our front walk. I guess it hasn't occurred to him that we actually leave the house. At any rate, after the recent snowfall, there was a wall nearly four feet high and almost as wide. It was so wet and heavy that heaving every shovelful was a considered effort. Such a sisyphean task is what passes for a good workout here in the boondocks. And someone in my yoga class told me to spray the shovel with Pam to prevent the snow from sticking. Who am I and how did I get here?

Sand between my toes is but a distant memory. The crunch of snow underfoot is what greeted me after my short vacation in Antigua. But I'm not complaining: I was lucky to get away and even luckier to return to my tiny cottage in the woods, my geriatric kitty, my cozy kitchen and everything I hold most dear and famliar. All the little routines—my meditation, watching birds in the yard while drinking my morning cup of tea, cooking dinner—these incremental steps in the journey of life bring me the most happiness. (Mary Oliver says it so much better.) I have some photos to illustrate the transition from island paradise to winter wonderland, and a few ideas for cold-weather cooking, and I've cobbled them together here into a long, image-studded meandering that ends in a recipe for duck confit that is so easy and so delicious you just have to make it.

Don't go out for dinner on Valentine's Day. Unless you're on your own and just want to be defiant and sit at the bar somewhere twirling some delicious noodles on your fork and sucking down an excellent glass of red. Everybody in the world will be cinched into little black dresses, drinking overpriced bottles of Champagne, crowded into candlelit two-tops and contemplating fussy tasting menus. If you want to celebrate with your beloved, do it at home. That's where the true romance happens anyway, right? If you pour your heart into your cooking, you can really taste the love.

You may remember that I was lucky enough to have spice wizard Lior Lev Sercarz create a custom blend for Glutton for Life and that it was duly dubbed "The Shizzle." And you may have entered last year's holiday giveaway to win a jar. And you may still be pining to try this deliciously piquant mix that is poised in flavor somewhere between Mexico and Thailand. I'm happy to be offering another 2 jars of this spectacular seasoned salt to my readers, so please leave a comment below by midnight on Friday 2/13 to be eligible to win. And to those of you who recently won a jar on Glutton for Life's Facebook page, read on for a recipe that makes great use of The Shizzle!

Aches and pains. Who would we be without them? Young, I suppose. But they remind us that our bodies are working organisms made up of tissue and bone and blood. And that we are constantly reacting to all kinds of external stimuli—from intense workouts and deep massages to freezing temperatures and air pollution. Do you know about free radicals? (No, they're not hippie GMO protestors.) These volatile molecules are everywhere and cause oxidation at the cellular level. This is largely responsible for inflammation in the body, which manifests as many unpleasant things, like arthritis, irritable bowel, and swellings and irritations of all kinds. Antioxidants are our allies in the fight against free radicals, which is why it's so important, among other practices, to eat lots of fresh, colorful fruits and vegetables. By this time, you've probably heard that turmeric—that bright yellow but otherwise mysterious Indian spice—is good for inflammation. Maybe you've even bought a bottle of curcumin tablets at the health food store. Yes? No? Either way, there's good information for you here.

I turned 52 last week. It seems like only yesterday I was confronting the milestone that is turning 50. As much as I believe that age is just a number—as opposed to something that defines us, inside or out—it can feel a bit alarming when the clichés become increasingly relevant. When I texted a friend recently to ask him how his photo shoot was going and he wrote back complaining about "the concrete floors," I had to chuckle. Until being out snowshoeing for hours in the freezing cold resulted in my knee suffering from what I think might be a little bursitis. Tell me that word doesn't conjure up your grandmother. How do I weather the changes? With a sense of humor, a healthy dose of denial and a stockpile of resilience. Which is not to say I don't occasionally stare aghast at the loosening skin on my neck. But I think Nora Ephron covered all that more than adequately and so I'd rather talk to you about another thing I stockpile: winter squash.

I'm thrilled to debut a short film we made about goats. I hope it inspires you to learn more about these delightful creatures and to enjoy them in the fields and on your plate—remembering that, if you like goat cheese and goat's milk yogurt, you contribute to a more sustanainable system by eating goat's meat, too.

Here are a few recipes for cooking with goat's milk, cheese and meat:

Cajeta (Goat's Milk Caramel)

Phyllo Triangles with Caramelized Onion & Goat Cheese

Birria Jocotepec (Mexican-Style Braised Goat)