One of the few things I like about fall: the box of Macintosh apples my mom sends me every year from Scott’s Orchard in my hometown of Ashfield, MA.
I think I’m the only person in the entire latitude that doesn’t like fall. All people seem to be talking about right now is how much they love this season. Facebook is saturated with snapshots of babies dressed like pumpkins and videos of dogs flipping out about piles of leaves. While everyone else seems to be running rampant through autumnal Kodak moments, I’m home trying to find the perfect combination of windows open / heat on / pills in.
I’ve always found October to be pretty glum. I hate the suddenly cold air, the shrinking days closing in on me, the way it smells—like nature dying. I don’t like the unpredictable swings from Indian summer to the sudden shivers. I much prefer winter, when it’s just straight up cold and dark and we all know where we stand. It suits my temperament much more than these crisp bright empty days of fall. Also, I don’t care for orange.
But there are a few consolations of fall.
They belong in two categories: fashion and food. Fashion perks of fall include leg warmers (which I buy from this store on Etsy), cashmere wraps, down hoodies and boots.
And then there is the literal cornucopia of food consolations. Which works out nicely this time of year, when all I feel like doing is eating my feelings. Anyway.
My friend Jamie taught me how to make slow-roasted tomatoes the other night. You basically just douse them in olive oil, garlic and salt and cook in the oven for a bunch of hours at about 200 degrees. Your house smells amazing, and you end up with a versatile sort of tomato jelly that you can spread on toast, use in pasta sauce, or throw into soup to tart it up. Delicious.
My friend Jamie teaching me the fine art of slow-roasted tomah-to cookery.
The end result. Shriveled little uglies of goodness.
