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.

What are chilly winter days without comfort foods to soothe our weary souls and hungry stomachs? One of the best examples of comfort food is the stew. In it's basic form, a stew is relatively inexpensive meat stewed with vegetables in flavorful liquid. It takes simple preparation to put together, then it's just a matter of waiting for it cook. But the most important part about a stew is that it be hearty enough to keep hunger at bay for a long time. Beef stew is the remedy! And who knows beef stew better than the French?

Boeuf Bourguignon, the dish made famous by Julia Child, is the best example of French country cuisine. An entire bottle of Burgundy separates this champion from the contenders. But each region has its own famous stew. Provençe has beef daube, a Mediterranean-style stew with bright flavors influenced by surrounding Italy and north Africa. This stew might not be as well known as beef Burgundy but it's amazing in it's own right.

My one favorite thing about the winter season is citrus fruit. When I have a good lemon or orange in hand, I almost forget about the mountains of snow and the blistery weather. I always seek out unusual citrus fruits, from Meyer lemons to blood oranges. But the one citrus fruit I use most is the standard lemon. The ones available in the supermarket are typically the Eureka variety. I use those juicy yellow orbs in practically every recipe. Salad dressings, baked goods, and stews all benefit from a little lemon, be it the juice or zest. The aroma and flavor of lemons are what make them so special and revered in many cuisines.

Luckily we can get lemons year-round in the supermarket, but there are also ways to preserve them. Many cultures preserve lemons when they are in season for later use during the rest of the year. North African cuisine, particularly Moroccan, and even Indian and Southeast Asian cuisines utilize preserved lemons in many savory recipes. They are added to the famous Moroccan tagines. They are also great in standard stews, braises, and roasts. Just as with the fresh citrus fruit, the possibilities are limitless with preserved lemons.

Me and my big ideas. Take rutabagas. I thought it would be just nifty to plant a row of these, late in the season, to use in our winter kitchen. (You can keep them right in the soil—how handy!) They’d be exclusively for us, not for the farm stand. Like the onions. Yes, but onions are a tad more versatile than rutabagas, you might point out. Duh.

There are only so many rutabagas one can eat. It’s not even November and Roy is already looking a little rutabaga-weary. And this despite the fact that miraculously, Roy, who is not a huge veggie lover, is not turnip-averse. (Rutabagas are basically big, purple-skinned, yellow-fleshed turnips.)

I guess I got all rutabaga-smug because I figured I knew a bunch of tasty ways to cook them. This week, in fact, I slipped some into a potato gratin, and that was a definite hit. (Couldn’t have had anything to do with the cream and cheese.) And one of my favorite techniques—slowly caramelizing root vegetables in a crowded pan—works wonders on rutabagas, so I’ve been using this trick frequently. And Fall Veggie Minestrone is another great destination for rutabagas.