An excerpt from a letter I penned earlier today, perhaps a little poetic but frames my current state of mind...
"I have forgotten how much I love fall and how much nostalgia comes with it! I can smell it in the air. The trees are nearly at their breaking point, about to erupt into the beautiful shades of orange. The summer tomatoes are nearly done, and we are starting to see varieties of pumpkins and squashes arrive on our cutting boards. My desire has changed from refreshing dishes to heartier, and I find myself grabbing for more spices, namely the omnipresent fall spices. White wine is being exchanged for red, and warm soups are running through my mind. And I find that I am needing to bring my sweaters to Charlottesville."
2 comments:
My fall tomatoes are beginnining to ripen, and we're still drinking white wines by the lake.
I have read William Wordsworth, cook you are no William Wordsworth. Stick to the gas flame.
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