Winter

In many countries it's tradition to eat good-luck foods in the first few days of the new year or sometimes in the last few seconds of the old one. People in Spain stuff their mouths with grapes as the clock counts down the last twelve seconds. In the United States, Southerners eat collards and black-eyed peas because they symbolize money. My Hungarian heritage is not without its new year's food superstitions.

To celebrate, we eat pork and lentil soup. Supposedly because pigs root forward, they are a forward-looking bunch of animals. Chickens are not since they scratch backward. We eat lentil soup because the little lentils resemble coins. So the custom of eating good-luck foods is all to gain prosperity for the new year. Believe me I'd eat all these foods all the time if it meant prosperity for the entire year.

I haven’t been to Paris in a while, but I’ve been to the next best place: Encino.

There are two reasons why I go to Encino, a small city (or enclave or district or borough or cluster or whatever it is) in the San Fernando Valley, north of where I live. One is that I have a superior dentist there. The other is that I know a fabulous cook who lives there, and I like to take advantage of every opportunity to eat at her house.

Last time I dropped by (“Oh, is it dinner time? Who knew? What’s cookin’?”) Suzanne offered me a sample of her French onion soup. While my memory is admittedly badly impaired, I don’t recall eating a better version of it, ever.

For those of you who do not want to go to Encino because you are too busy visiting more glamorous places like, say, Cleveland, I have managed to procure the recipe for Suzanne’s soup. If you know what’s good for you, you will make it.

So far I have stuck to my New Year’s resolutions except for the part about the peppermint bark. I resolved to eat nothing but healthy foods and have done so religiously since December 31st–except for the peppermint bark. I just gave the peppermint bark (what was left of it) to Aunt Christina so now I am totally on track.

I made this soup which is full of high-fiber vegetables and makes you feel virtuous even before you finish chopping the leeks. Tom and I have been eating it all weekend and we both feel as fit as say, that guy in “Creed.” (Michael B. Jordan, not Sylvester Stallone.)

I gotta be honest, it’s a pain in the neck to make but worth the trouble because you end up with enough to last for ages so it’s three meals for the aggravation of one. Plus you get all that upper-body exercise from the veggie choppage. Okay, it’s unlikely M.B.J. got those biceps by this method but still.

So give your peppermint bark to an unsuspecting relative and make this soup. You will be glad you did.

It rained here for the last three weekends. As a result, the Sunday farmers' market was nearly empty. (Southern Californians don't go out in the rain.) So, it's been just a few farmers, some die-hard vegetarians, and a handful of New England transplants.

This all changed yesterday. It was the quintessential San Diego day - sunny, with a light breeze. You couldn't move at the farmers' market. People were clamoring for colorful rainbow carrots, luscious Meyer lemons, and tart pink grapefruit.

The biggest attraction was the exceptionally juicy, tangy blood oranges that beckoned market-goers with their ruby-colored flesh. One poor farmer handing out samples nearly got trampled on by a gaggle of Red Hats who were visiting. And there I was without my camera. Ugh.

So what's all the fuss about? Anthocyanin, the same chemical that makes blueberries blue and cranberries red, gives blood oranges their characteristic "bloody"color. It can range from bright ruby red to deep burgundy and has an exceptionally pleasing sweet-tart flavor unlike any other orange.