Chocolate Thoughts and Chocolate Times

When I was much much younger, I  imagined having a life that allowed me to linger in cafes over pots of chocolate.

The afternoons - as I imagined them - were dark and gray, but I would be protected from the elements inside a toasty little niche, reading a slender book of poetry and waiting - waiting for what? My tender imagination stopped there. I only knew that chocolate and dark days and romance belonged together.

My memorable moments in college often involved chocolate: The Thanksgiving afternoon I spent alone with Colette and a hastily-made chocolate souffle, the Christmas Eve a box of chocolate was delivered to my mother's house from a friend in Switzerland, the winter afternoon a friend and I shared a chocolate torte at the Ovens of Brittany on Monroe Street in Madison, the chocolate bars gobbled down between classes in place of real meals.

Sometimes I think it has been the idea of chocolate that matters as much as the smooth, dark taste of it. As I once sought a life of romance, so I now seek chocolate at certain moments. The fruit desserts I make at least 10 times a year - apple crisp or a blueberry pudding or a pear tart - will not do. Chocolate and only chocolate brightens a dark day.

For a time my little town had its own chocolate shop. A pair of artists opened a chocolaterie in a tiny building in the old downtown across the river. It thrived that winter, and then suddenly it was gone the next year. Now you can buy serviceable chocolate bars in supermarkets and drugstores from famous makers. It's not the same, though, is it?

Tell me your chocolate stories. The days are dark now, and short. It's chocolate time.

The Season of Gratitude

If I leave the office on time, it is dusk when I arrive home. If I linger a few moments over an e-mail or take the time to tidy up my desk, it is the beautiful blue hour, l'heure bleu, which of course reminds me of Paris. I am grateful for this fleeting moment as the November night closes in.

This gray-and-gold month is a time suspended between the glories of autumn and the harsh winter, a prelude to a season of high expectations. But it brings with it - for many of us - a four-day weekend. Reason to be thankful indeed.

As I walk up my little hill I pass an old rose bush that offers this time of year the most glorious rose hips. This small magic welcomes me home.

I still have a pumpkin on the little red garden bench on my porch. I am happy this year to see that many porches still hold pumpkins. A small thing, but it prolongs the beauty and bounty of October and for that I am grateful, too.

I am thankful today that despite the gloom and damp of a Sunday afternoon, my husband's slow simmering pot roast is filling the house with the most delicious aroma.

And of course, the Badgers and Packers won and that, too, is cause for thanks.

May you have plenty of reasons large and small to be thankful this season.

Comfort Food, Comforting Places

Along with concerns over the health of family members during the past 12 months, came some disturbing personal challenges.

No, I did not overcome an addiction (Do they even have 12-step program for Internet surfers?). Nor did I get myself arrested, lose something of value (a job or a friend or a loved one). No, nothing like that. Let's just say I ran across more than my share of people with issues who challenged me and created obstacles and unpleasant situations.

In other words, life was normal.

I found myself craving the little things that comfort me: Scented candles, naps on our cloud-soft sofa, mashed potatoes, rice, walks, books set in quiet villages and soft music. I've been spending a good deal of time on islands, at resorts, and at health-food stores.

Late Friday morning, I drove to Door County, Wisconsin's answer to Cape Cod and the coast of Maine. This time of year, the leaves are mostly on the ground - save for some stubborn oaks - and the lovely bones of this island-cum-peninsula are obvious. On a sunny way, this glorious spit of land jutting into Lake Michigan and Green Bay, these orchards, farms, fields, beaches and villages are awash with an amber glow. On such days, the sky is azure and the berry-yielding trees and bushes are crimson. Driving up hills and down lanes, one sees charms not evident in high summer or peak color season.

I spent no time in the kitchen this weekend, but instead took a few photos of the land and water I wanted to share with you.