of chestnuts and plenty

Happy New Year! The first day of the year is a good day for talking about a healthy start and new beginnings. It’s a day for fruit salads and resolutions. But we lived so much in every inch and corner of last year that it’s spilled over into this one. Resolutions will have to wait. Today, I’m still reflecting.

Last year was full—full of blessings. Of celebrations and new things. It was a year of grabbing each moment and living in it a little more richly—allowing space and time for doing or cooking or eating or learning something that grabbed my attention at a given time, a freer form of living I learned from my sweet husband. I spent more time luxuriating over details on the garden. I splurged a little on that fine stinky cheese or handmade chestnut raviolis at Eataly, despite the knowledge that I could make (the later) at home for half the cost.  I enjoyed the craft of crackly crust breads I dream of making myself, and not for a minute regretted that I haven’t gotten to that yet.

Last year, I read books, books like The Invisible Bridge and The Shoemaker's Wife, which let me travel far beyond our four walls, let my mind and soul soar to new places and times, like a tiny village of the Bergamo Alta in the Italian Alps at the turn of the last century.  It is there that I imagined this meal, and how it came to be in our table—a meal from the time of artisans, when handcrafted foods unassumingly filled our kitchens—a time of hand cut ravioli and Robiola that aged in the cellar of every family home. It left such an impression on my soul that when Gourmet asked me what my best meal of the year was, this one came immediately to mind. It’s now a part of their collection of the Best Things We Ate in 2012 on Gourmet Live, and one of dozens of memorable meals, moments, and riches I count among my own year's bests.

~

I always thought it odd that in our culture on New Years Eve, we party until the ball drops, and start the New Year pulling our pillows over our eyes. I’m much more inclined to want to sit around a table with good friends and a generous spread of food, as we did last night, giving thanks for the plenty in our lives—the friendships, our dear families, good health—and then, at home quietly in our beds, think about what we want to carry forward into 2013: meals like this one, the love of color and texture and intoxicating photography, the instinct to stop long enough and often enough to write down the amazing things our tiny girl is saying and learning, to savor the pink of her cheeks and lips when she first wakes up, to keep dreaming about making my own crackly crust breads, and when I can not, keep treating myself to those made by others.

More than anything else, I want to carry forward gratitude—gratitude to God for all the tremendous opportunities we’ve been given; Gratitude to our friends, our family, our communities for making life rich, and for believing in our little family; Gratitude to all of you who come here to read and be fed. I hope you’ll keep coming, and most importantly, I hope your new year is full of plenty. 

Photos and Recipes © Sarah Copeland 2013

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how i do lunch

there are many advantages of working from home. lunch, on a porcelain plate with a real knife and fork is one of them. i think i speak for all hard-working full-timers, at home or elsewhere, when i say lunch is my favorite time of day. that's when i set aside the work at hand, no matter how delicious, disregard grams and cups and do things my way. a handful of this. a sprinkle of that. lunch is usually made on the fly from whatever i've found in the fridge, at the market or in our garden. today, it's a tiny head of red leaf from the green market. scarlet and watermelon radishes. the season's first galas, crisp and sweet. carrots, raw and fresh-pulled from the ground. a dollop of red lentil hummus, yogurt, olive oil. sea salt. fresh cracked pepper. the anise seeds i found growing in my neighbor's yard, neglected and generous.

lunch is art. self expression. an answer to craving. pure joy.

i wish I could give you a recipe for all these dozens of weekday lunches. better yet, i wish i could sit you down at my counter and make one for you. maybe. one day. kind of dreaming of putting up a 'open for lunch' sign outside.

The Barn

{photo by lily odare}

This week I've disappeared to one of my favorite places on earth -- to the cool shelter of the little barn that lured Andras and I to our house in Hurley, NY about this time two years ago. We've put endless hours of work into the house and yard, and it finally, magically feels like home. We escape the city to swing in the hammock under the old apple tree as often as we can, but this week I'm here without Greta and Andras and instead with a team of five amazing creative and dedicated gals shooting my new book, Mostly Vegetarian. 

I couldn't think of a more peaceful place to turn a year's worth of writing and recipes into beautiful, artful images to fill the pages of the book. Behind the lens is Yunhee Kim, one of the most talented, masterful photographers I know. There we are, crouched in the even afternoon light that floods the barn floor as I style, and she shoots platefuls of my favorite foods. We're wrapping this half of the shoot tomorrow, and after I put up my feet and rest a wee bit, I'll be back with more. 

{in the test kitchen} playing with....

bloomsdale spinach. snap peas. fiddlehead ferns. strawberries. ramps. 

{in season} Bloomsdale Spinach

Lately I've been blown away by the bold pinks and greens found in the garden that practically scream of spring. Radish sprouts with tender pink roots. Blushing ruby rhubarb with pale green streaks. And voluminous, ruffled Bloomsdale Spinach stemmed with a splash of hot pink. Until you grow it yourself or find it at the farmer's market, you may never see the bright pink stems of fresh Bloomsdale spinach. I had never had until I gathered this homegrown batch in the sink and practically mediated over the power of these colors. No offense to the pre-washed bagged baby version (which has its place), but it has nothing on this tangy, almost-sweet spring green.

This spring I've been putting Bloomsdale spinach on DIY pizza {Jim Lahey no-knead style}, tossing it together raw in salads, and stuffing it into grilled cheese and quesadillas. And today, for lunch, there will be Spinach Soup with Rosemary Croutons, just the thing for another rainy spring day. Savor it now before fresh spinach fades away into the hot days of summer.