Wood I?

The mountain of wood came today-- two and a half cords. If I was a tree hugger, I would be upset, but I know our new stash came from old trees either long past their productive prime or those that were toppled in a storm one or two years ago. I feel sorry for those who don't understand or can take advantage of a warm toasty fire during the cold months.



Our stove is so efficient that, for the most part, our evening fire heats the whole house and warms the living room up to the point that clothes are an option. Right now, I will count the days to the first fire. Once tempered and warmed up, the fire box really needs little priming unless we miss a night.



Last year, we visited family who had a conventional fire place that spewed smoke and didn't do much but redden our eyes and caused us concern because there was no fire screen. This year we will spend the evenings enveloped in the warmth of home.

To Market, To Market, To Buy.....

I think that tomorrow may be the first day that I will find Quince at the market. Last season I bought only a few that I put in a pear tart, but this year I plan to make enough Membrillo to last a while. The manchego and Iberico hiding in the back of the cold drawer have declared that they won't come out until the fresh rosemary crackers are ready. The blackberry jam that I put up this summer is sans seeds, so the texture has remained that of aspic and gelee. (All have indicted that the absence of the seeds has made digestion a lot less challenging.) The spreadable sweets with the dryness of the cheese coupled with a favorite sparkles almost makes working worth while.

If I saute a few Wolfsen's to go with, I think that I just might coax the sun out just one more time this weekend. What heaven. Tart and sweet, smooth and crisp. Maybe a few raspberries to make everyone smile, and a little Bette Midler and Alan Jackson.

Apples and Carrots and Sugar, Oh My

With the promise of the first storm and in honor of the generosity of my neighbor's annual pilgrimage to Apple Hill, I made an apple cake complete with pecan praline glaze and generous chunks of gala and golden delicious. While I thought the cake would be just a token of Fall, those I shared it (a small six inch round for the neighbors and a four inch square for a co-worker) with said that it replaced a meal--neighbor's dinner and friend's lunch. "I was only going to eat half and save the other for tonight", Jules said. "But, I couldn't help it. I wanted to put my face in it and breathe in the cinnamon and apples." Neighbor polished theirs off with a sauvignon.

Imagine the look on their faces when I showed up at their front door with a carrot cake the same size heaped with cream cheese icing for a birthday surprise. The next day email to work indicated that they were both completely sugared up and swore they would eat a complete meal the next day. Jules heard about the carrot cake and swore that she dreamed I had made one. Another co-worker is returning from Afghanistan, and Jules suggested that I make the stacked double 9x13 carrot cake that I made for his farewell. It took three packages of cream cheese and three cubes of butter. I think his arteries are probably unclogged by now, so it should be safe.

Of Green Peppercorn Chicken and Pee Wee Corn

I have a wonderful bistro-type chicken dish that I make with fennel, crimini mushrooms, onions, garlic, and chicken. I saute the veggies in evoo until just tender, remove from the pan; add more evoo and a few TBLS of bacon fat and brown the chicken that has been dredged in flour and a variety of my favorite spices. I crank up the convection oven to 420. Once the chicken is well browned I add the veggies back, pour in enough good dry white wine, about ten crushed and chopped green peppercorns, top with five freshly cut stems of rosemary, and throw the skillet into the oven.

I normally serve with mashed and fresh green beans, but my dear one has an affection for small cans of kernelled corn--thus named Pee Wee. As in, "Wher'd dis corn come from? Someone check Pee Wee drawer!" I think his love of canned corn has to be resident in his mid-western genes. I can't recall any good use for the stuff, other than to have a can on hand to add texture to cornbread. On the nights I opt for fresh veggies and salad, he is happy with Pee Wee. I guess that's what keeps me coming back for more--could it get any easier?