The Colors and the Comfort Food

We're staying at a ski cabin near Mt. Snow. While the higher peaks are still covered in white, it hasn't been cold enough in West Wardsboro to sustain the early snowfall; and though some trees are bare of leaves, there is still enough color to satisfy the desire for an autumn. Living in southern Georgia, pine trees keep us in verdant evergreen; I forget there are rusted colors like this.

Yesterday, I followed signs for "fresh eggs" and found myself on a road amidst colors straight from my favorite section of the Crayola box: burnt umber, sienna, and ochre. Today in Bennington, we paused to admire the oak trees that lined both sides of a street on which Federal houses stood with graceful age. Against the white canvas of these pre-Revolutionary homes, the canary yellow explosion of leaves seemed almost fake. There's terrain here -- mountains, wide swaths of undeveloped land, little rolling hills and soft indentations of valleys. I understand now from whence the "purple" of the mountains majesty comes; and I understand, too, that while I love my conveniences, I have lived too long in urban sprawl.

Sometimes, a vacation should entail doing nothing; unlike our last few excursions, this trip is deliciously lethargic, involving few things more strenuous than finding a used book store (of which there are virtually none in Bennington as we discovered today). As this cabin was built for the purpose of housing, feeding and soothing tired skiers, we are equipped with the essentials in our pursuit of hedonistic laziness: a fully stocked kitchen, wine rack, and spa.

The temperature has been cool enough to warrant jackets, and thus, the preparation of comfort foods to be enjoyed in front of a fireplace.

Sunday found us in nearby Keene, New Hampshire visiting our friends Alan and Vanessa. As Vanessa is the owner of an exquisitely renovated kitchen, there was no question that we would be staying in and cooking. Vanessa and I considered numerous dishes to cook together; a casual reference to lobster induced her husband to wash the large stockpot; so dinner was lobster risotto. A lobster stock was made from the shells of four lobsters, along with onions, a bottle of chardonnay, a bouquet garni, tomatoes, carrots and celery. Added in one cup increments to the butter-and-sauteed-onion-coated Arborio rice, the risotto took on a carnally rich flavor. The parboiled lobster meat was added at the end, finishing with a tender bite, rather than a chewy toughness (which has happened in the past when I've miscalculated the timing of the risotto), and chopped parsley and Parmigiano rounded out the toppings. We paired the risotto with crisp asparagus stalks and a pleasantly buttery Chardonnay (not usually a favorite wine).

Yesterday we had beef stew (Mom's recipe), and crusty baguettes, followed by hot chocolate with fresh whipped cream. Tonight there is chicken pot pie with the remaining pastry dough from Saturday night. The other half of the pastry dough was used to make the crust of the now cooling Cinnamon-Maple Apple Pie.

Comfort foods don't lend themselves well to being photographed, I've noticed. They're very demanding dishes, insistent on being consumed immediately. I find myself complying.

Comments

[keiko]

Hi Cath - I'm glad you had a lovely holiday. I totally agree with you that comfort food are very demanding dishes, insistent on being consumed immediately...

[Cath]

Hi Keiko, thanks! It really was a wonderful time...