Bagna Cauda vs. Baba Yaga

  This fragrant garlicy, anchovy-rich, delectable treat is an ingrained part of my family’s entire holiday season…Halloween through New Year’s. For some families thinking about the holidays conjures up the iconic scent of roasting chestnuts…preferably over an open fire.  For some it is warm, cinnamon-y gingerbread smells...for my wacky family, nothing says 'holidays' like the smell of garlic and anchovies.

As a small child, I got this dish confused with Baba Yaga, the Russian witch with a spinning house on chicken legs.  It always made me a little nervous when Mom said she was making us some for a snack.       For dipping, any raw vegetables will work, but the pros know that broccoli and celery stalks with leaves are especially good for scooping up and snagging anchovy bits.  Carrots are lousy for this but they add some color and make the crudité tray look pretty and festive.  Bagna Cauda 2 cups extra-virgin olive oil 24 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed 1 2oz can of anchovy fillets...with oil...do not drain! Assorted crudite...cauliflowert, carrots, broccalli, celery, peppers, cabbage Heat the olive oil, garlic, and anchovies in a heavy skillet over low heat.   Stir frequently, mashing the garlic and anchovies. Cook 10-15 minutes until the garlic has softened…or it smells too delicious to wait any longer. Serve hot with veggies for dipping. From "Warm Hearth: Comforting Love-filled Recipes for Family, Friends and Cozy Fireplace Afternoons," by Mango Dragonfly. Available at Amazon.com www.mangodragonfly.com

Happy New Year!

 Happy New Year!
     
"Fall has always felt like a time for fresh starts to me....a much more natural place for the New Year to begin. Maybe it is a hold out from childhood when summer came to a close and a fresh school year began with new teachers, a special outfit or two and a handful of pencils sharpened to a lethal point.
       
Maybe it is left over from earlier religious roots…the Egyptians, Phoenicians, and Persians all marked the Fall Equinox as the New Year. In between Cleopatra’s visits…micro-manager Julius Caesar switched everyone from the sporadic lunar calendar to the solar calendar…added January and February…and named January 1st as the official start of the year.         

The Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, still falls sometime during September and October…163 days after Passover begins.  I love the holiday’s renewing ritual of Tashlikh…traditionally performed the afternoon of Rosh Hashanah. Prayers are recited near naturally flowing water and bread or pebbles are thrown into the water to symbolically cast away sins, mistakes and regrets…and the year begins anew."

From "Warm Hearth: Comforting Love-filled Recipes for family, Friends, and Cozy Fireplace Afternoons," available on Amazon.com

Waiting for Leaves to Fall

    

     ~There is a magic moment that comes late in September, even in California or Arizona, when a breeze picks up and you notice it feels and smells different…just a tiny bit cooler and touched with the scent of dried leaves. It may be very subtle, possibly only a subconscious wish, but it is enough to make you stop and think maybe you will make some soup this weekend and wonder where you put that box of sweaters. 

      

     This is nature’s clock…a soft reminder that a change is coming and summer’s long warm days will be leaving soon. Maybe my sensitivity to this change comes from being part of the anti-season retail holiday machine for so many years. My work calendar was always wacky…worrying about Jack-O Lantern plates on the Fourth of July… Labor Day was a Christmas deadline…Valentine’s Day was spent debating whether or not this was finally the year for peacock blue Christmas decorations. Afflicted with CSCD… chronic seasonal confusion disorder…I am always on the lookout for signs… longingly hoping that Fall is really, finally, on the way! Even though it means I will have to break down and put on some socks…it is my most favorite time of year. “Autumn Leaves” is my favorite song…17 versions on my Ipod…if you have lived in a cave and never heard this beautiful song, grab a box of Kleenex and listen to the Eva Cassidy version first. 

      

      Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday. Family and friends gathering with the heart-filled intention to lovingly share gratitude, grace, a wonderful meal, and secretly gloat over their faultless sweet potato casserole…how perfect is that.  It is all that is good about Christmas without the insane hype, pressure and endless gift wrapping.

      

      Most of my life I lived autumn’s riotous colors, and beauty vicariously through magazine covers. Glorious, burnt oranges, rich harvest golds and warm, velvety browns never held any appeal to me as clothes or décor, but somehow nature always gets it perfect.  I could stare at a bowlful of fall leaves for hours, marveling at the abundance, depth and interplay of the colors…or for that matter, the October gourd display in front of the grocery store.                  

      I have an outstandingly vivid visual memory of flying into Providence, Rhode Island on a chilly, clear Fall morning.  During the flight, I had been running the day’s agenda through my head, amping up to resolve some work issues rhino on steroids style. The captain came on over the intercom and announced we were a few minutes early and would have to circle until a gate opened up. I glanced out the window and had my breath taken away…sun glinting on bright white houses in a sea of deep umbers and crimsons, all framed by the vivid cerulean blue ocean… stunning. It was the kind of amazing, pictorial wonder that makes everyone day dream of being a photographer for Life magazine. When my breath returned, I had a complete spiritual reset…the rest of the day was calm, peaceful and productive and all employees lived to see another day. For the record, Webster’s definition of Providence is divine guidance…funny huh?

      

     Autumn is roasting season, a farmer’s market harvest of turnips, carrots, beets and potatoes, sizzling in a bit of olive oil and sea salt…an acorn squash fragrantly filled with shallots and sage…or something thick and peasant-y…like a succulent cassoulet or lamb stew.  Everything gets a little bit richer and a lot heartier. The days grow shorter and after the stretched out, languorous, sultry evenings of summer, chilly darkness starting to creep in at five o’clock can be a little freaky. This is the exact time to have a substantial, soul and body nourishing pot of French onion soup simmering on the stove and a cinnamon-y apple crisp, fresh out of the oven… hot, delicious and comforting… waiting to warmly welcome every one back home.

“The falling leaves drift by the window,

The autumn leaves of red and gold

I see your lips, the summer kisses,

the sunburned hands I used to hold.
Since you went away,

the days grow long.

And soon I'll hear old winter's song.

But I miss you most of all my darling

When autumn leaves start to fall.

 From “Autumn Leaves”, English lyrics by Johnny Mercer

From "Warm Hearth: Comforting love-filled recipes for family, friends and cozy fireplace afternoons," by Mango Dragonfly. Available at Amazon.com.

www.mangodragonfly.com