We took advantage of the nice weather the other weekend to really put the finishing touches on the garden. The beds got a last weeding and were cleared of everything but a few kale and collard plants. All the pots had to be emptied and many of the perennials trimmed back. Living closer to the land like this makes you much more aware of the seasons and so of the passing of time. I look down at my hands stuck in the dirt, the beginning of arthritis just starting to swell a few knuckles, and I see my mother's hands. I was blessed with long, slender fingers and have been proud of my hands all my life, but this, along with my dark hair, is just one of the many vanities the years will strip from me. In return I have gained other things, including the pleasure of hearing G crow upon finding a cache of brilliant pink potatoes buried under the straw where he planted seeds late last summer. He had given up all hope of success in this department, so the discovery was that much sweeter. Have you ever seen such a vividly colored spud? I cut one open and was amazed to find that it was a rosy pink inside, and unbelievably crisp and juicy, almost like an apple. The freshest potato I've ever encountered and a sight to behold.
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Our bathroom remodel finally got started yesterday, almost a year to the day after we first began thinking (and writing) about it. Sadly, due to various factors (the size of the bathroom, the size of our doorways) we had to give up the idea of a soaking tub. But we are replacing literally everything—all the tile and fixtures, even the walls. More about all that later. We are so fortunate that a dear friend has loaned us his gorgeous, spacious and light-filled weekend place, just a quick drive from our cottage. A relocated Frenchman, his home is filled with beautiful antiques, including hefty, hemstitched linen sheets and amazing stoneware pottery. I covet these rustic dishes, and have made a mental note to scour ebay and local thrift stores for the American version of them. Incredibly strong and durable, stoneware has long been used for cooking and was the predominant houseware of 19th century North America.

After avidly perusing London-based Yotam Ottolenghi's contributions to The New Vegetarian on The Guardian's website, and reading various reviews of his cookbook (including this one) as it swept the latest Piglet cookbook contest on Food52, I finally pulled the trigger and ordered my own copy of Plenty. It looks like there's an American edition coming out in March, but it's not such a big deal to convert to metric if you have a handy kitchen scale like this one. (I use mine constantly, it takes up no space at all, and is so worth the $35.) Ottolenghi, who owns four eponymous restaurants in the UK, is not a vegetarian himself, but the book contains 120 vegetarian recipes that reflect his Mediterranean background, his original and exciting use of fresh ingredients, and his passionate approach to vegetables. I can't wait to get my hands on my copy. In the meantime, I made one of his recipes published in The Guardian and it came out great. This crisp, fresh salad of celeriac, apple, quinoa and poppy seeds is lightly dressed with a tangy sweet-sour dressing.
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Here come the holidays and, with them, your family. Bickering, sibling rivalry, old grudges and the rapid backslide into childhood habits are mitigated by unconditional love and unlimited quantities of sugar and fat. Both my parents are dead, so I have absolutely no chance of recreating that perfect Rockwellian moment. Because I went to college so far from home, I have been glomming onto other people's Thanksgiving celebrations since I was 17 anyway. Now I am a part of G's family, and this year, along with his chef-in-training sister, I am responsible for the turkey. His mother has passed the torch. It's a big responsibility, but not one that can totally distract from the issue of side dishes. I suppose there are some families out there who are wildly experimental with their Thanksgiving menu, trying that mole sauce with the turkey one year, stirring coconut milk and chiles into their sweet potatoes, maybe even passing a post-prandial doobie. But it seems that, for the most part, people really like to stick with TRADITION, even if it means that repellent green bean casserole topped with canned onions. Or having both sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes. The root vegetable is really very popular at this meal, and rightly so. Its earthy sweetness is the essence of comfort food. Try making these sweet and spicy garnet yams (no marshmallows, please), cubed and blitzed in the oven along with some pancetta, while the turkey is being carved. And keep reading to discover the very best mashed potatoes ever. Trust me on this.
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I love staring into the fridge and trying to make sense of its sometimes overwhelming contents. All those ingredients are like a puzzle that, with a little clever thinking and some inspiration from the muse, can come together into something beautifully cohesive. Remember that corned beef I made for St. Patrick’s Day? Well, I was left with a lot of gorgeous beef broth that I had strained and stuck in a jar. And I had a beautiful large bulb of celeriac from our trip to the farm last weekend, and a hunk of smoked Gouda from the smokehouse. (Actually too intensely smoky to eat plain!) I could have made a gratin—celeriac is great like that—but with all that good broth I decided to make a soup. The result was incredibly easy and velvety-rich. I recommend you give it a try before we move on to the asparagus and sorrel soups of spring.
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