Fall

I like foods that add a touch of luxury, where a little goes a long way. I'm thinking of things like caviar, smoked fish, truffles, whipped cream, chocolate. Nuts fall into that category for me too, maybe it's their association with the holidays or with desserts like cakes and cookies. Or maybe it's because they are so rich.

Walnuts have a richness due to their fat content. They have an inherent sweetness but also a slight bitterness. That bitterness is actually what complements so many foods. The flavor of walnuts is more mellow and buttery when toasted which is great for baked goods and desserts. But when it comes to strong foods like beef, bitter greens, cheese and herbs like basil, un-toasted walnuts add another more complex dimension. If you've made pesto you might have noticed that most pesto recipes call for un-toasted nuts, so clearly I'm not the first to realize this.

In experimenting with different kinds of nuts, I have found walnuts to be the most versatile of all due to their buttery, rich, sweet and bitter flavors. I also found that lemon almost always complements walnuts, toasted or not. The possibilities are endless, salad topped with walnuts and tossed with a lemon dressing, lemon tea cake with walnuts, lemon walnut biscotti, lemon peel and walnuts as a topping for green beans...

I have always associated peaches with July and August. That is until a few years ago when I discovered the most succulent peaches I ever tasted -- in September.

Peach season in California is long and abundant; it runs from May to October and peaks from July through September. In general, peaches are picked early to withstand shipping and to have a longer shelf life. The problem is when you take home many of these peaches, they are as hard as a rock (and taste like one too). That's why buying locally grown peaches is a better option when possible.

A couple of years ago at a local farmers' market I discovered Summerset peaches, which peak in September. Like a California sunset, these fruits are a dazzling blend brilliant reds, warm oranges, and golden yellows. In addition to being visually beautiful, they emit a delicate floral aroma and are amazingly juicy and succulent, as if warmed by the sun.

If you've never had spaghetti squash before, you're in for a surprise. It's called spaghetti squash for a reason—the vegetable's flesh resembles strands of spaghetti after it has been scraped away from the skin. With a mild sweet flavor, spaghetti squash pairs well with just about any dish and can be flavored in just about any way.

Once you've roasted the squash, the flavor customization is up to you. One of my favorite ways to enjoy it is simply seasoned with salt and pepper and drizzled with olive oil. It's great as a base for meatballs. But this recipe goes a few steps further and includes some fall favorites, like dried cranberries and toasted hazelnuts. Enjoy it as an appetizer salad served warm or a cold side.

Now is the season for spaghetti squash. You'll find it sold among the other winter squashes, like butternut and acorn, in the market. Pick one up and make this super simple recipe. It's easy enough to make even on a busy weeknight.

How in this sweet
aftermath of everything the mind
should settle on plums

Geri Doran
“Blue Plums”

If poetry is all about the image, then it’s understandable why so many poets have written about food. Writing about food is like writing about a lover. The poet can—and does, joyously—explore all the senses. In “I Chop Some Parsley While Listening to Art Blakey’s Version of ‘Three Blind Mice,’” Billy Collins raises dicing herbs and vegetables while listening to jazz to a whole new level of food prep. Last semester, a student’s poem about warm pita and honey inspired my class to have a party where we drank tea and prepared and ate the subject of her poem.

Of all the food groups, however, it is fruit that has inspired the greatest outpouring. What better object to evoke sensations of sweetness and succulence? What better metaphor for the body? What better metaphor for the pleasures of poetry itself? Diane Wakoski’s “Ode to a Lebanese Crock of Olives,” one of her many food poems and a veritable cornucopia of shimmering ingredients, spills over to include “the gold of lemons” and “the still life of grapes.” In “A Step Away From Them,’ Frank O’Hara’s lunch includes “a glass of papaya juice.” That’s the “lunch poem” that ends with the lines “My heart is in my / pocket, it is Poems by Pierre Reverdy,”