Here, in the Philadelphia suburbs, the leaves have already turned and have fallen, littering the ground in glorious shades of chocolate and maroons and yellows. Winter is well on its way.
I personally don't have any problem with the idea of fall and winter. Unlike others who seem to grow quite depressed during these months, I relish in the crisp, cold weather. I prefer sweaters to halter tops. I like it when my bones are chilled; it makes me more alert. Heat just makes me sweat and swell, which I welcome only if there's sand between my toes and an umbrella drink in hand.
What I do find off-putting about the changing of the seasons is the inherent transition in the foods we eat. Lighter meals during the heat; more hearty morsels during the cold. I do a lot of cooking at home. Dining out for us has become a rare and special treat since I've become passionate about putting my awesome kitchen to good use.
I am meticulous about planning out the groceries, the menu for the week. We try to buy as much as we can--especially fresh produce--at the Asian market in Lansdale. For the rest, Giant gets our hard-earned cash. Between the two, I've been able to build a stocked pantry that allows me to get creative. I've blown through cookbooks, flipping through recipes at night while I'm unwinding before bed, and Post-It noting the ones I'd like to try based on the three very diverse pallettes we have here at home.
And I have found that it's a fairly smooth machine I've created. Organization makes it easy to breeze through the grocery stores. I never have to panic at dinner time. I know as I start the day what's on tap, and a ballpark of when I should start the prep. But there are moments--during these seasonal changes--when the process suffers from fits and stalls, as we transition from those light summertime meals (salads and delicate pastas and seafood) to heartier alternatives.
I lean toward southern comfort foods--things I've got no business eating at my age and with my better-than-average understanding of what constitutes "eating healthy." I make thick homemade soups and chilis; pot roasts and sauerbraten; pork roasts with German side dishes. But it's not all about the proteins. I love fall root vegetables and greens and make vats worth of mashed potatoes (something we all can't get enough of, it seems). I've mastered healthier versions of classics like chicken piccata, pasta with meat sauce, meatloaf and so forth. I try not to use ground beef or veal whenever I can avoid it. I need not go into veal; we all know the horrors. But not nearly enough people in this country know that the beef industry contributes greatly to our climate AND, as my well-traveled brother-in-law is in the habit of pointing out, is so toxic that it's illegal to sell U.S.-raised beef in other countries. I'm assuming this is true, but I have not personally investigated its accuracy.
And in the winter, I bake. Highly unusual for me to do so in the summer months. There are muffins and breads and sweet rolls and biscuits.
The oddity of this--these changes in diet as the seasons wax and wane--is that I typically lose weight in the cold months, and put it on in the hot ones. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?
