Brrrrr...

This weekend, the grey skies sent down a smattering of tiny snowflakes that spiraled to earth and melted immediately. Not much of a snowfall, but the message was clear: winter's on the way.

Song for a Sunday

Gobble gobble

Canadian Thanksgiving came and went. This year for the first time ever, we were left to our own devices with no family obligations, which also means no one to do the cooking and washing up for you. We decided to do our own holiday feast instead, complete with roast turkey, the requisite trimmings (stuffing, mashed sweet potatoes, etc.), and a few fellow holiday orphans as guests.

A note here: neither D. nor I are big fans of the big bird traditionally at the centre of Thanksgiving celebrations. They require so much work and are so easy to screw up. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have a story or two about gathering around a platter of desiccated turkey on Thanksgiving or at Christmas. But tradition is tradition and we felt that, this year at least, we’d abide by it, just to see if we could pull it off. Next time, I’d rather do a roast.

Sometimes in the fall

I love the way this dish evokes the season. The rich orange of the soup echoes the tint of the autumn foilage, the crunchy bacon bits call to mind treading through piles of dried leave and the mingling of flavours-smoky and sweet with just a touch of tartness-is that of a bright, but crisp morning.