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Our Christmas Eve tradition is to gather with friends and enjoy delicious food. This year, chef MiK (not his main profession) outdid himself with an epic menu of small plates that left few culinary stones unturned. We turned up early at Beaver Dam (other photos here and here) to help with the cooking, but the lion's share had been done and I was happy to play sous-chef for the night. The kitchen features an enormous wooden island to which guests and cooks alike moored themselves throughout the evening. It's where the action was. Round 1: bay scallop ceviche with fennel-grapefruit salad and a drizzle of chile oil. Portions were modest and the courses just kept on coming.
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Are you house-proud? It's one of the simple satisfactions of domestic life. I believe that living in a clean, uncluttered space that's well-organized and smells fresh is essential for health and happiness. Your house doesn't have to be big (mine is tiny) and your furnishings needn't be fancy, but you can surround yourself with things that are pleasing to the senses. Right now, I've made some small adjustments in honor of the holidays. I'm burning this fabulous juniper incense all the time (I also love their Big Sur cabin spray) and I've brought in bunches of red winterberries and boughs of fragrant pine. My three big silver mercury glass ornaments (jumbo versions of these that I got at the old Takashimaya) and our two embroidered stockings are out—small tributes to the Christmas tradition in which I was raised. And I'm also loving incorporating Jan Richter's lovely drawings into little vignettes around the house. Those are her gorgeous pomegranates, above. Have you been to the GFL shop yet? Her work is for sale there.
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There really is something about this time of year that invites a heightened emotional state. As much as I want to resist the cliché, I find myself steeped in memories, haunted by the ghosts of Christmases past. The minute I've digested my last bite of Thanksgiving turkey, I begin playing our family's traditional holiday music: Handel's Messiah, Noel by Joan Baez and Misa Criolla. It fills me with joy and sorrow in equal measure, and I wallow in both. I don't want to seem maudlin, nor to keep forcing you into unwanted introspection, but there are some more things I want to share with you and this just seems to be the right moment. Bear with me; inspiring cookbook recommendations and cheery holiday recipes are coming soon. Some of what I want to tell you is tied to this post, inspired by my time in the hospital with G—who is doing great, by the way...
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It has been a challenging week. My husband had surgery on his leg on Tuesday, to remove the steel hardware that repaired the shin bones he shattered in a motorcycle accident in Indonesia in April of 2011. Compared to the original surgery, this was nothing, though the surgeon did take an hour to scrape away at the healed bone in order to retrieve the 7 screws and one long plate from G's tibia. So I have no recipe for you today. Instead what I have is a heavy scarf of mixed emotions that I knit while waiting in the hospital, striped with painful memories and fringed with hope. I'm sorry to grieve you but I must unburden myself.
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Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
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Did you know that October has been rechristened Goatober? As part of Heritage Foods' "No Goat Left Behind" program, the month is now officially dedicated to learning about, loving and, yes, eating these wonderful animals. If you love goat cheese but are appalled by the idea of eating goat meat, I highly recommend you watch this excellent video and get educated about how the world of dairy works. Then get out and eat some delicious, nutritious goat! If you live in New York City, there are 53 participating restaurants that will be putting this undervalued meat on their tables this month (and hopefully on an ongoing basis), including Minetta Tavern, Colicchio and Sons, Momofuku Noodle Bar, Fette Sau, Gran Electrica and Parish Hall. And now, without further ado, some links for you to peruse. I'm having a couple of wisdom teeth yanked today and plan to use that as an excuse to put my feet up in front of the fire and read, snooze and surf the web to my heart's content. I hope you'll do the same (minus the sore jaw, of course).
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Few things make me happier than cooking for the people I love. I had a great time making the most of summer's last days when I co-hosted a dinner party right smack in the middle of a friend's lovely and prolific garden. We featured the late-season produce that was overflowing on all sides and the weather cooperated, offering balmy breezes late into the night. The menu was organized around a main course of paella, which we cooked outside on a big burner that belongs to the deep fryer we use for our Thanksgiving turkey. You can use your grill instead, or cook it inside on the stove if you prefer. Paella is actually pretty forgiving, and the recipe can be scaled up or down as you will.
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Not much of a post today (rushing into the city), but just wanted to let you know that the blog, and my recent post on Cape Cod, are featured today on Gardenista, the new garden-centric sister to the wonderful design/lifestyle site, Remodelista. I'm really thrilled about this and hope it may lead to other collaborations. Please stop by for a visit and leave a comment there so I can feel popular. Have a lovely weekend!
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I almost forgot: Every August I take a vacation from the blog. So the time has come. I hate to leave you, but rules is rules. It's a good opportunity for me to regroup and recharge, and perhaps for you to dig into the archive and discover lots of new things (like posts from the past three summers!). I'll be back right after Labor Day with the faintest of tan lines and renewed vigor for all manner of projects, in and out of the kitchen. But before I go, here are a few ideas to inspire you to make the most of these last sun-drenched and carefree days of the season.
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As much as I love to travel the world, the journey home will always be my favorite. I spent several long hours in the Atlanta airport yesterday, waiting for my delayed flight back to Newark, surrounded by squalling babies, lurid fluorescent lighting, enormously fat people talking much too loudly on their cell phones and a general air of fetid unhealthiness. When it became clear that a real dinner was not in my future, I sidled hopefully up to the nearest Wolfgang Puck Express where I was met with the world's saddest array. Dessicated "baby" carrots, the desperate orange of Guantánamo jumpsuits, huddled in fogged plastic containers alongside clammy cubes of cheese and a few shriveled grapes. Spago it was not. I ultimately gnashed my way through a heap of watery romaine with a lumpy feta vinaigrette and longed for the green, green grass of home. Once aboard the plane, there was a moment of glory: as lightning shot repeatedly through a layer of meringue clouds, we soared high above into a crystalline night sky illuminated by an enormous silver moon. And then the pregnant lady in front of me farted. 

When I arrived home past two in the morning and emerged from the frigid yet stale air of the town car, I inhaled the cool country sweetness and was instantly restored. The wild honeysuckle brushed lovingly against me as I made my way up the front path. Moths slam-danced into the yellow porch light. I crawled into my bed between two biscuit-warm bodies and fell asleep to the rhythmic buzz of the night creatures.
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