Truman Capote once wrote, “The difference between the very rich and regular people is that the rich serve such marvelous vegetables.”

Obvious snobbery aside, was Truman making an observation on the socio-economics and agro-economics of setting a table? After all, to invest more resources in order to enhance the quality of a low-calorie food suggests that one’s resources are not terribly constrained. To prioritize the pleasure of a ‘marvelous vegetable’ over the utility of a higher-calorie comestible does seem luxurious… until you do the math on a farm-share or CSA membership.

I know, I know, it’s been WAY too long since I’ve posted. And, I could sit here and list out all of my excuses – crushingly busy at work, wedding season, the fact that my un-air-conditioned apartment has been topping 100 degrees lately, and the idea of sitting with my laptop in my lap makes me want to tear off my own skin – but I won’t.

So, I took my first cooking class at the BCAE this weekend with a 16-year veteran, Diane Manteca. She specializes in Italian cooking (and tosses a couple Chinese courses in to keep things interesting). I was there auditing the class to see how they’re run, test out the facilities, and get some tips from one of their most popular instructors.

I’m always curious to know what people shop for in a supermarket and why? What one person considers a staple, another considers a rare occasion treat. I remember being 13 years old, being at a friend’s house, and they had an enormous, family-sized bag of M&Ms in the pantry… 2 hours later, they didn’t, because I had managed to polish off the vast majority of the bag – I was both permanently hungry and had a much faster metabolism as a teenager. Sadly, only one of those things has changed… but I digress…
The reason for my voracious and greedy appetite was the fact that a bag of M&Ms never entered my own pantry. This was a treat and luxury that I could never have dreamed of – candy, open and available at a moment’s notice – and the cunning little imp in me couldn’t pass up the opportunity to over-indulge.

In a thoroughly unsurprising development, the holiday season has left me with less time than I’d like to do the things I enjoy most – namely putter around the kitchen and cook. I eat out too much, go to too many parties, and order delivery too often in an effort to save time for gift-wrapping, which inevitably takes 5 times longer than it takes the average all-thumbed clutz, that I end up cooking less during this home and hearth-oriented season than usual.

And, quite frankly, eating out so much sounds fun, but it is a bit off-putting. I like my own cooking, I like creating something, I like knowing what goes into it, I like being in my kitchen and doing the familiar dance around my pantry and stove, and not doing it makes me feel out of sorts.

As promised, November’s posts starts with a recipe made from Gourmet’s October issue, what they called Scarlet Carrot Soup, but which I’ve modified to more of a Vibrant Veggie Soup. When I described the contents to PT – tons of carrots, beets, and parsnips – he crinkled his nose and grabbed a carrot cupcake with maple frosting, presumably to soothe himself from the raw shock of so many vegetables.

As it turns out, the soup was delicious, thanks to a liberal dose of coriander, which playfully and spicily tickled the back of my throat. And while I hope that you do try this soup, as it is incredibly easy, healthy, and tasty, it’s not really what this post is about….

There are certain cookbooks in my library that are stained, dog-earred, and otherwise, lovingly mistreated with their overuse. And then there are those that are not. This latter number is far smaller, and there is one reason why 3 or 4 of my cookbooks are rarely opened…. these cookbooks scare me.

They are all derived from famous restaurants around the globe, were all bought in a fuzzy haze of culinary ambition bordering on delusion, and have fantastic, exotic sounding recipes that, as it turns out, are a bit of a pain in the ass to actually make. When a cookbook actually dictates the type of green you must use (lamb’s lettuce, butter lettuce, red perella, perhaps) as opposed to the quotidian “mesclun mix”, you know you’re in trouble.

I imagine that you probably think that farmshare folks sit around in homespun hemp gnawing on raw vegetables with ascetic delight. And that may be true for some folks, but I prefer a bit of indulgence to balance out the veggie virtue.

The late comedian, Mitch Hedburg, once declared that he believed that eating a good food with a bad food cancelled out the negative affects of the bad food. Eating a carrot, along with some fries, gave the fries a ‘free pass’ into his gullet, and I must admit, I adhere strongly to the same principles.

After a weekend of decadent wedding food and, horror of all horrors, two pit stops at McD’s, I came home craving, yearning for my the fresh veggies from my latest farm share.

Not long after arriving at home, a pile of peppers, bunches of carrots, and one large, firm, brilliant head of cabbage found themselves on the chopping block, awaiting shredding by my lethally powerful Cuisinart.

A bit of mayonnaise, olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and mustard later, and I was delving into a crunchy, tangy, refreshing, and so-satisfying bowl of tangy mustard cole slaw.

Things have been a little hectic around Chez Besotted lately, but the brisk Fall air, ushering in the change of seasons has me very excited for some of my cold weather favorites – chicken stock and soup, pies, and scones, and braised meats.

But, there’s still just enough summer left in the air for a de-constructed Summer tomato sauce, made with farm-fresh tomatoes. This is a no-cook, light and easy week-night dinner (unless you count cooking the pasta) that really capitalizes on the flavor and brightness of local tomatoes.