Fall

It was one of those days, dreary and cold, and it was my turn to make lunch (I’ve told y’all how much I dislike making lunch). Mostly I was dreading it because I knew the fridge was devoid of leftovers I could just heat up and call good. 

I strolled into the kitchen and opened the vegetable drawer. There it was, two red bell peppers, celery that needed a purpose and half an onion from the last soup I had thrown together. Luckily, inspiration hit and within 30 minutes, this soup and lunch was served. It was delicious and is now in the fall/winter soup rotation over here.

The coconut adds the Asian flare I was looking for and the Thai-style sweet chili sauce balances it all out. This soup is so easy to make and the flavor is bold. You will love it.

In the blink of an eye, summer disappeared. It seems like the 4th of July was just yesterday when we wore short sleeve shirts and shorts, had a picnic in the park, and watched fireworks explode overhead.

Now we're trying to keep warm and dry as dark clouds matte out the sky and cold winds push thick rain drops against our bodies. At a time like this, happiness is a good parka and thick socks!

Wrapping up in a thick blanket or cozying up to a well-stoked fireplace fortifies body and soul against the chill. For internal weatherproofing, though, nothing beats the cold better than homemade soup.

Simple is often best and that is doubly true in soups. When I'm cold, I want my soup hot, fresh tasting, and flavorful.

Vegetable soup is easy-to-make and nourishing. Perfect any time of the day, but when the weather's cold and rainy, I like soup in the morning. It's better than a cup of coffee or tea to get me out the door.

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,”

I work at home. Translation: I love a distraction. The kitchen? Definitely the number one destination for diversion.  Even on days when recipe developing is not on my to-do list, I like to wander in to my favorite room and concoct a little something every few hours. Something quick, something that might work for our dinner later.  Even better, something that might last for a few days.

Roasted baby beets (so ruby-red pretty) are the ultimate in quick-to-make,  slow-to-cook vegetable condiments.  By vegetable condiments (no, I haven’t lost my mind) I mean stuff like caramelized onions and roasted tomatoes—things that are so great to have in the fridge for tossing in salads, onto pizzas, into tacos—that sort of thing. Okay, so maybe roasted beet wedges are not quite as versatile as roasted tomatoes, but they do juicy-up a salad and give you a great excuse to warm up goat cheese or to toast pecans (just add arugula and lemon vinaigrette). Plus, maybe you’ve got excess CSA-beet syndrome like me. Remarkably, mine (wrapped in a damp cloth and stored in a zip-top bag) have kept for months in the veg drawer of my fridge.