Fall

The other day at the market, a woman approached me and said, "Excuse me, but may I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What do you do with that?" she asked, and pointed to the huge pile of squash in my carriage.

"The acorn squash?"

"No. That one."

"Oh, you mean the spaghetti squash." (No one ever knows what to do with spaghetti squash.)

"No, no. I know how to cook spaghetti squash. I meant that one," she said, and pointed to the only other squash in my carriage.

"You mean the butternut squash?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yeah. I never know what to do with them," she said.

I was shocked. To me, butternut squash is like your best friend. It's always there when you need it; it's dependable and rarely disappoints; it gets along well with others and is happy to try new things.

Years ago, when “Color Me Beautiful” was all the rage, I “had my colors done.” I turned out to be an “Autumn,” which didn’t surprise me in the least - in every possible way, from my reddish hair to the deepest reaches of my soul, I am a fall girl. This morning as I walked the dogs I felt that first snap of cold in the air, and saw leaves on the sidewalk, rendered terrestrial by two days of heavy rains. They were an indescribable scarlet, surrendering their lives in a blaze of color that jumped up from the dull, gray concrete and made me smile. It’s coming.

I know that there are people who adore summer, and who bitterly mourn the end of heat, light, blooming flowers and lazy days by the pool. I try to understand that, but my own yearning is for the end of that indolence and warmth. As the air grows cooler, the days shorten, and the leaves turn from endless green to an assortment of reds and golds, I feel a surge of energy and possibility. School starts, sweaters come out of storage, and there is a pencil-scented air of fresh starts. I will no longer feel vaguely sticky and frizzy all the time, and I can put away the light, bright clothes that seemed so fresh at the end of May, and now seem limp and exhausted. It is time for cashmere and long sleeves, flannel and layers in the richest browns, deepest greens and bravest shots of orange.

Eggplant is a delicious and versatile fruit. Yes, eggplant, a member of the nightshade family with tomatoes and potatoes,  is technically a berry. There are several different varieties of eggplant, some long, narrow and pale purple, some small, white and egg-shaped (do ya think that’s where the name came from?), some yellow, some striped and of course there is the large purpley-black globes that are the most common. I grew two varieties of eggplant this year, and while successful, the plants did not produce enough fruit to keep up with my appetite.

Eggplant is at it’s peak right now. I often pick up the big eggplants at the farmers’ market. I like to grill or broil eggplants slices and have them on hand for salads and sandwiches. I always salt, rinse and dry the slices before cooking; the salting process alters the surface—it doesn’t soak up olive oil. 

Sometimes the story behind a given dish is complicated. This is one of those recipes, though the recipe is is easy as can be. I'm particularly proud of it because it's rather original and I got a number of compliments on it and even a couple of requests for the recipe.

It's spicy fennel flavored Italian sausages roasted with vinegar-marinated pears and onions. The resulting dish has spicy, savory and sweet flavors and can be made for as many or as few people as you like. It's a perfect dish for Fall.

It represents my favorite type of recipe because it takes very little time, few ingredients and techniques but yields something absolutely delicious. I think you could call it foolproof. It can also be varied pretty easily – add other fruit, seasonings, vegetables, or different kinds of sausages.