Fall

Even though summer is considered the pinnacle of tomato season, in many parts of the country the last fall harvest before the first hard frost brings some of the tastiest and meatiest fruits to market.

And this is a recipe that gives those end of season tomatoes a last hurrah in a hearty dish perfectly suited to fall…Oven Roasted Tomato and Basil Soup.

Best of all, this version lightens up the calories and the clean up!

The original recipe from the Barefoot Contessa calls for 6 tablespoons of olive oil and 2 tablespoons of butter…which adds 920 calories and 104 grams of fat.

Instead, we’re using fat free half-and-half to add the creamy richness…which cuts the calories per serving by more than half and removes virtually all of the fat.

And while the original recipe requires roasting the tomatoes in the oven for 45 minutes, then transferring them to a pot and cooking them on the stove for another 45, you can now cook everything in the oven….which frees you up to do other things and saves you the trouble of washing another pan.

This is the first time in my life that I won’t be kicking and screaming for summer to stay just a bit longer. Not that I want it to go, mind you, I’m just happy to see the seasons do their thang, the earth to change notches such a tiny bit. The days are already significantly shorter, but when you’re from Southern California you’re generally immune to massive temperature changes anyway.

Besides, this past month I’ve been living in Thanksgiving because of my work, and Christmas is next week. I’m mentally already there.

While my brain may be on all things holiday, my tastebuds will most likely be the last thing to get on the bandwagon. A trip to the market explains why: there are still beautiful tomatoes and other summer fruit waiting to be scooped up and enjoyed one last time before we move on to slower, richer things. Which reminds me of this recipe, something I’ve made 5 or 6 times since it hit the newstands this past July. I’ve been meaning to share it with you but keep forgetting. Now I better do it as one last goodbye to summer, don’t you think?

There's nothing more spectacular than the brilliant colors of Autumn in the South, especially the trees that turn deep shades of amber and ruby red. It's my favorite time of year to visit the farm in middle Georgia, where I grew up and all of my family still resides. The 2 hour drive from my home in Atlanta takes me to a place that is truly another world. A phone call from my niece, Caroline, asking me to take her and her best friend to the Georgia National Fair, in nearby Perry was a good enough reason to go home for a long weekend.

As I start to mourn the loss of peaches and summer tomatoes (the one's that are actually red inside and taste like tomatoes), the cool weather ushers in the fall crops. My Dad planted, many years ago for his grandchildren, an entire orchard devoted to autumn crops. There are many different varieties of pears, figs, and pomegranate trees all of which are surrounded by an orchard of pecan trees. I think my dad had some sort of fairy tale vision of picking up his grandchildren at the bus stop after school and taking them to the orchard where he could sit in his swing and watch them frolic among the trees while eating fresh picked pears and figs.

The first time I saw the word Hungarian describing mushroom soup, I was perplexed. I am a descendent of grandparents who came to the United States from Hungary when they were young adults. My mother was 100% Hungarian. I don’t remember ever seeing mushroom soup on the dinner table. No, I’m sure if I’d grown up eating Hungarian Mushroom Soup, I would have always enjoyed eating the earthy fungi.

The truth is, I’ve never cared for mushrooms. The texture, the taste — not for me. Since last August, that’s all changed. My transformation from mushroom-challenged to fungi-infatuated began with an unexpected hunt for chanterelles when I was in Duluth. It developed further when a farmer in Frazee, Minnesota shared some of his freshly-harvested shiitake mushrooms with me.