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That all sounds awesome.

Lately my flavors of choice, tickling the autumn / nostalgia / warm-comforting-blanket whiskers, have been persimmon, roasted nuts (walnut & pine), leafy greens, beets (incredible!), sweet potato, maple, early citrus, caramelized onion, crimini & oyster mushrooms.

Cranberries are sadly an imported luxury in Texas at all times of year, it seems. Cherries, too. "Tart" is a hard palate slot to fill locally. (Not that maple syrup is local, of course, but it's not outrageously expensive like cherries and cranberries!)

I'm dying to use chestnuts but they haven't come to Austin quite yet. The TFL chestnut agnolotti are definitely in my near future. I am jealous you have them already.

I'm sad I didn't quite manage to make it to Avedano's when I was there. Ended up getting a chicken from Bi-Rite instead. Man, Rosie's chickens are pudgy little fowl.


The ad for the butcher reminds me of something from Fallout, like there should be a Super Mutant knawing on a Rad Scorpion leg with a smile on his face and a big thumbs up.

I thought goose was for Christmas, but as its your Thanksgiving, serve what you want. Anyway, as for additions to your menu, how about Waldorf Salad (http://www.hillbillyhousewife.com/waldorfsalad.htm - awesome address btw), I'm not a fan, but it's a tradition at the in-laws.


The in-laws will be here in exactly one week. I've still got to find a place to get a fresh turkey (Whole Foods? Not familiar enough yet with the city for a real butcher). I need good recipe suggestions for rolls and pumpkin pie. I'm definitely doing winter squash as I had to go 4 years without it in the south. Mmmmm, brussel sprouts...

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the last 10 books I read

  • David Sedaris: When You Are Engulfed in Flames

    David Sedaris: When You Are Engulfed in Flames
    I have noticed in the last couple years that reading while eating has become dissatisfying - I enjoy both less, taste less, remember less. I read most of this while eating. I think it was more mature and not as hysterically funny as Me Talk Pretty One Day, but I also think that last burger needed salt.

  • Charles Palliser: The Quincunx

    Charles Palliser: The Quincunx
    A thoroughly engrossing and very long victorian legal mystery/adventure. Also quite enjoyable! It did not end the way I expected.

  • Cormac McCarthy: The Road

    Cormac McCarthy: The Road
    Easily one of the best books I've ever read. I'll give you a dollar if you can make it through without crying.

  • Anais Nin: Little Birds

    Anais Nin: Little Birds
    Not the one in the picture, but a lovely old red hardbound edition given to me by Heather. It reads like the stories were written over a long period of time, but perhaps the progression of tone was intentional?

  • Haruki Murakami: Norwegian Wood

    Haruki Murakami: Norwegian Wood
    My only excuse for not having read this before is that it was just perfect for me now. Rocketed to my favorites list straightaway.

  • Ernest Hemingway: A Farewell To Arms

    Ernest Hemingway: A Farewell To Arms
    The progression of language and complexity through the book was most interesting to me. The depiction of the central couple's affair seems disturbingly co-dependent and unhealthy, but that's just age, I guess.

  • Gabriel Garcia Marquez: Memories of My Melancholy Whores

    Gabriel Garcia Marquez: Memories of My Melancholy Whores
    Yes, quite good, the right length for a domestic flight. I hate to say "nothing special" but that's how I remember it.

  • Jerzy Kosinski: Steps

    Jerzy Kosinski: Steps
    A re-read of a book I thought was too creepy and yucky to ever read again. Densely packed with uncomfortable feelings and moments of brilliance.

  • Charlie Brooker: Dawn of the Dumb

    Charlie Brooker: Dawn of the Dumb
    This is a collection of Charlie Brooker's columns in the Guardian from the last couple of years. If you don't read it, you really ought to start. http://www.guardian.co.uk/profile/charliebrooker He writes about (british) TV and pop culture in a way that's so f'ing funny it makes me forget that I don't get the references. A bit formulaic when you read them all at a stretch.

  • James Kelman: How Late It Was, How Late: A Novel

    James Kelman: How Late It Was, How Late: A Novel
    A claustrophobic stream-of-consciousness rant, the focus set so tight you feel like you yourself are blind. Review quotes refer to how funny it is, but perhaps I'm too American to find it anything but choking. In a good way.