Food, glorious food!

I am feeling pretty excited abut the fall produce rolling in. The lima beans have continued to hit the spot, and yesterday I roasted some gorgeous carrots and rutabagas. They looked nearly neon, and I love the prominent rings decorating the carrot interiors. Root veggies drive me wild. Last night's dinner was a recipe of mine that has been going gang-busters on Pinterest for the past month: Caribbean Sea Bass. Chilean Sea Bass (I always get Marine Stewardship Council-certified because for a while the future was looking bleak for these fishy friends), which is not really a bass at all -but rather the Patagonian Toothfish, a cod icefish- nor necessarily from Chile- is so delicious. It's buttery and delicately steaky and holds up nicely to a range of seasonings.

This simple recipe utilizes honey, pineapple, habañero, scallions and avocado, a pretty, fragrant, zingy combination that pairs nicely with the fish's texture and flavor. Healthy and delicious!

I roasted salmon with whey, salt and pepper for the boys and then topped it with capers: they went nuts, and I can see that we've passed the point of a half-pound being sufficient to feed them. While they ate, I finished up the apple strudels that Jack wanted to bring to his class today. They were so pretty, and I'm sad to say that the photos of them were erased from my loaner phone when I returned it today. My iLemon was irreparable, so they gave me a new one. Not a 6, folks; they're not that generous. But I'm pretty darn satisfied with a new phone. In any case, no pics of the strudels unless you follow me on Instagram or Facebook. I also managed to give away the rest of the olive oil cake; it was so good, but I needed to part ways.

Look at this cat- he is so handsome and curious and charming.

Tonight, dinner starred another uncomplicated dish: Chicken with Garlic, Capers and Oregano. My sister made this for us in Florence and we devoured it so enthusiastically that she sent me the recipe. Grazie, grazie. Mamma mia, it's divine. We had leftover veggies and I also made one of T's favorite recipes, Couscous with Celery, Parsley and Red Wine Vinegar. It's an Amanda Hesser recipe that I discovered while reading Cooking for Mr. Latte when we lived in Amsterdam. For many years, it was a staple side dish. Then, for no good reason, I stopped making it and tonight decided to remedy things. It's fab!

Lighting candles

My family is big on lighting honorific candles in houses of worship. From the grandest cathedral to the smallest church, if candles can be lit within, we are on it. Using crisp bills, those so worn it's hard to recognize their worth or even a scrounged-together mess of change, we light waiting wicks to remember someone special who has died or on behalf of someone who is ill; a way of saying "Godspeed" across what are usually hundreds of miles.

This week has been ludicrously full of bad health news. I and my family are well, but dear friends ail, and in two weeks, it will be the first anniversary of Nanny's passing. When I spoke to Mom yesterday, I offered to light candles at the National Cathedral; through sobs, she said, "Yes, please." Not long afterward, my sister emailed from Florence; she too would be shining light toward those who need it.

After dropping the boys off this morning, I drove to the Cathedral and arrived a few minutes before it opened. All blue skies and brisk air, today was the consummate fall day, and I settled on the cold stone steps in front of the visitor's entrance to wait.

Every time I go to the Cathedral, usually to light candles (although Jack did go through a phase of loving and wishing to see regularly the Hell-themed stained-glass window inside), I am struck by the myriad folks streaming around and into it, no matter the time of day. Of course there are church members and clergy present, students too, visitors from near and far. But surely there are others like me, there to see or do something specific, perhaps with the regularity or purpose of my candle-lighting. I look around gently and send virtual hugs; who knows what any one of them might be struggling with or worried about. I don't, but something has drawn them.

A security guard unlocked the door from within, and I entered on the heels of an anxious-looking man. Dressed in a suit, he appeared both somber and extremely rushed, and I wished him well as his strides carried him away from me so quickly I couldn't find him again.

I explained to the desk-clerk that I wanted only to light candles, and she said, "Of course. We simply ask that if you decide to look around, you return to pay the admission fee." "Absolutely," I replied in turn, and headed down the cool hall into the great nave before turning right into the transept. As I made my way to the small chapel where the candles wait, I wondered if anyone had ever defied that request to pay for sight-seeing. Can you cheat a church and feel OK? I wouldn't.

The hushed tones and dim lighting always usher in contemplativeness and calm; today was no exception. Though I was in a hurry, I didn't rush. The Cathedral's stained-glass windows are truly magnificent; although the Rose windows are incredibly executed and spectacular to cast eyes upon, the regular ones lining the nave are pretty remarkable too.

Lest you think I've become a believer, I haven't. But I do appreciate tradition and ceremony, which, in my opinion, are the foremost take-aways from organized systems of faith. To me, their meaning has nothing to do with a higher power or the afterlife, but rather with thoughtful, meaningful, purposeful efforts at continuation generation after generation.

Each time I light a candle, I feel that I'm participating in a ritual understood by many but particularly special to me because of its context within my extended family. I like that sense of simultaneous connection with strangers and kin. The simplicity of the action appeals to me greatly as does its driver: thinking of others and making time to wish them well.

An outsized cat, a superb dinner

Don't y'all think Nutmeg looks certain that he fits in this box? Look at his rump! The whole thing reminds me of the scene in that old Chris Farley movie where he dons the tiny jacket and sings "Fat guy in a little coat..."

I can't believe he put up with what was surely uncomfortable, just to prove this box was, momentarily, his. So delightfully cattish!

You know what else didn't really fit? The batter in this tart pan. I have made this cake, olive oil with dark chocolate, countless times and while spillage always threatens, I have never seen the likes of this torrential overflow. I mean, gah, the pan is encased. I had to pull on my Pit Mitts so as not to burn myself and pop this puppy out before it hardened onto the rim.

It recovered beautifully and tasted the same. I looovvee this cake, as you probably well know!

Dinner was fresh limas that I bought yesterday at the farmers market. Limas are one of my favorite beans. I could eat them on a weekly basis and never tire. My favorite way to enjoy them -hell, the only way I cook them?- is simply: in water, rendered bacon fat, salt and pepper. Doesn't get better.

I also pan-fried some bread that I'd baked this morning as well as some fresh peaches and sandwiched those around some freshly torn burrata, the latter ingredients also from yesterday's FM. Honey, salt and pepper et voila. Heavenly!