Fall

Synonymous with autumn is the color orange. Pumpkin, salmon, persimmon, and rust abound throughout the garden and nature. From leaves to blooms to the fruits of the season, autumnal orange hues find favor with this Farmer. All I have to do is peruse around the garden and landscape and gather orange colored blossoms and fruit for an arrangement that celebrates the bounty of the season.

Planting snapdragons in the fall ensures mountains of this fun flower the following spring for the Deep South. Bronze Liberty Classic snaps are simply stunning, for they start out salmon and then are throated with golden/orangey/terra cotta tints as the blossoms mature.

This range of terra cotta to coral punctuates pansy and viola beds and spikes through glossy green parsley mounds for lovely fall color and spring delight. Since I’ve been planting them in the garden, I had a few stems to spare for an arrangement.

Great Aunt Irene’s orange, gold, and white bowl from the Far East (different family lore places it in different regions of Asia, so the Far East shall suffice) just spoke for itself as the vessel of choice for a festival of flowers, paying homage to a splendid color.

The snaps were a must and, thus, a pilgrimage through the garden commenced – the pilgrimage was now a hunt for orange flowers, fruit, and foliage.

When I was a kid and my parents took us out for breakfast, I always ordered a glass of cranberry juice. I loved the way it sparkled like rubies in a glass. But most of all, I loved its mouth-puckering tartness that sent shivers down my jaws when I drank it. (Even typing that sentence caused the same reaction.)

Now that I'm all grown up, I no longer drink cranberry juice. Maybe my taste preferences have changed, or maybe I've just become a wimp.

Fresh cranberries, however, I adore. And since cranberry season peaks between October and December, now is the perfect time to buy them.

In the fall, cranberries are used most commonly for cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving Day, yet they have so much more potential. They balance the sweetness of baked goods such as pumpkin muffins and banana bread. They add a jolt of flavor to homemade sweet apple sauce. And they perk up fall vegetables, such as butternut squash and sweet potatoes.

Parsnips. Parsnips parsnips parsnips.

Just saying the world really fast makes and in repetition makes me laugh. I don’t know why.  And yet as cute and funny looking as they are (think albino carrots), I realized I don’t include root vegetables in my life nearly enough. And why is that? It’s not as if I don’t like them. I just never seem to think about them. Perhaps because they are our seasonal winter-loving friends, hiding underground until someone comes along and plucks them from the earth. Maybe it’s because they are starchy, somewhat tough and require some finesse and trickery to enjoy.

(I’m going to exclude radishes from the above, as they are just fine sprinkled with a little sea salt, perhaps a dab of butter, and popped into my mouth like there’s no tomorrow.)

Parsnips are delicious when pureed or roasted with other root vegetables, but I’m digging this recipe I found while on a work assignment. It screams winter, and pairs perfectly with a tender, slow-cooked pork roast. Comfort food at its best.

I can't make pancakes. Nope. Just can't. Other than my fleeting victory with Nigella's ricotta hotcakes last August (which technically aren't pancakes), I haven't had much pancake success.

I've tried recipes from Gourmet, Bon Appetit, Cooking Light, and even Martha. They always come too heavy or too dry or too flat.

So when Jeff and I felt like having pancakes on Sunday, I went where no respectful food writer goes – to the Bisquick section of the supermarket baking aisle.

There I furtively placed a box of Heart Smart Bisquick in my cart, proceeded to the checkout, and almost made it to my car, when I was accosted by the Food Blogging paparazzi. Despite my protestations, their persistence was formidable.