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 met the impossibly dashing Albano through my friend Lisa when I visited her in Singapore several years ago. He's a dapper Australian designer of Italian extraction with impeccable taste in all things. Our friendship has been sustained mostly through Facebook, one of the very few reasons I can't be totally cynical about "social networking." He has been kind enough to share with me a couple of flawless recipes for what can best be described as tea cakes, those simple homey loaves you slice up and serve alongside a cup of something hot. Both of them allude ever-so-slightly to his Asian environs; one is made with kabocha squash, the other with Japanese sweet potato and seaweed. Toasted and buttered, with jam or just plain, a slice of these bread-like cakes hits the spot at breakfast, too.

The great pumpkin returns, this time in the tender little dumplings known as gnocchi, meaning "lumps" in Italian. Probably of Middle Eastern origin, they were introduced by the Roman Legions during the enormous expansion of the empire. At that time, gnocchi were made from a porridge-like semolina dough mixed with eggs, which bears a resemblance to the saffron-infused basis for malloreddus, Sicily's signature dumpling. Although potato is what you'll see most often, pumpkin or any sort of squash also make a wonderful addition to these chubby nuggets. The key is to ensure their lightness by using as little flour as possible. If you can get your hands on a kabocha squash (sometimes called Japanese pumpkin), you'll find that their dense, dry flesh can make up the bulk.

The making of gnocchi is not an exact science. You take pumpkin or squash, flour, a little egg, some grated cheese and you mix it together to make a dough. You don't want to beat it or knead it a great deal as this can rob it of some of the quintessential lightness that makes gnocchi so irresistible. You roll the dough into long snake-like coils and chop these into the bite-sized pieces you will begin to recognize. Push a fork into each one to create the signature striations so adept at catching sauce and you're done. Simply plop them into boiling water until they float, then scoop them out and serve with brown butter and sage. Or, as I prefer, sear them next in a hot pan with a little olive oil or butter so they get a bit crisp, then top them with anything you like: roasted tomatoes, sauteed mushrooms, a scoop of ricotta, pesto, virtually anything goes.

Squash and gourds have arrived! I'm planning to really load up when I visit the farm next weekend as Alice has so many gorgeous heirloom varieties. For now I just grabbed a green kabocha and a gorgeous brilliant orange mini Hubbard. Hubbards are my favorite variety, and we actually managed to produce a blue one ourselves in this year's garden. They have a wonderfully sweet and rather dry flesh that roasts up beautifully. Last fall, I invented this very easy and delicious way to stuff any whole squash; I find that roundish ones work best. Small ones are ideal for one or two people, or you could do a great big one for a dinner party. The presentation is lovely and rather dramatic. I use whatever vegetables I have on hand, and it's an ideal way to use up leftovers, because rice, stale bread, bits of ham—anything, really (dried fruit, seeds, tofu)—can go in there. A little cheese is always nice, so now that G is back on dairy (sad to report that 2 months without it, plus a whole slew of tinctures and Chinese herbs, did nothing for his chronic gut pain) I mixed in some fresh mozzarella from our local dairy. This is a very cozy and hearty dish, economical and full of nutrition.

You asked for soup, you got it. This rich and creamy combination of kabocha squash and fennel is a wonderful winter recipe from Suzanne Goin. She's an LA-based chef and I really recommend her cookbook, Sunday Suppers at Lucques. (I hope to eat at Lucques, or at AOC, her other place, when I'm in LA later this week.) The kabocha called for is a rich, sweet and dry-textured squash that used quite a bit in Japanese cooking. It's sometimes referred to as Japanese pumpkin. Like all squash, it's good for you—high in fiber and in vitamins C and A. It has a darkish green, striated outside, sometimes tinged with orange and yellow.This is a hearty vegetarian soup (although you can make it with chicken stock) and, along with some cheese and salad, I think it will leave you quite satisfied.