Pomegranate, Beet, and Blood Orange Salad

yield: Makes 4 first-course servings

4 medium beets
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup blood orange juice (from about 1 blood orange)
1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses (I used concentrated pomegranate juice)
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar (I used cider vinegar)
1 medium red onion, thinly sliced
3 blood oranges, peeled, cut into1/4-inch-thick slices
1 cup pomegranate seeds (from one 11-ounce pomegranate) (I used two)

Preheat oven to 400°F. Place beets in roasting pan and toss with 1 tablespoon oil, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Add 1/4 cup water. Cover pan with foil; roast beets until knife easily pierces center, about 50 minutes. Cool. Peel beets and cut into 1/3-inch-thick wedges. Whisk orange juice, pomegranate molasses, vinegar, and remaining 2 tablespoons oil in large bowl to blend. Season vinaigrette with salt and pepper. Place onion in small bowl; cover with cold water. Soak onion 1 minute, drain, and squeeze dry in kitchen towel. Add beets, onion, orange slices, and pomegranate seeds to vinaigrette in bowl; toss. Season salad with salt and pepper.

Butternut Squash Panna Cotta

Vegetable oil for oiling ramekins
2 lbs. butternut squash
1 tbsp. agar-agar flakes or 2/3 tsp agar-agar powder
1¼ cups heavy cream
½ cup mascarpone
2 tsp. chopped fresh thyme
½ tsp. Aleppo pepper (or ⅛ tsp. cayenne)
1 tsp. sea salt, or to taste

Heat oven to 350°F. Lightly oil 4 small custard cups or ramekins. (I used 11 miniature ramekins.)

Halve and seed squash. Place cut-side down on baking sheet. Bake until soft, 45 minutes to an hour or more (cooking times vary widely with individual squash). Cool, then scrape out flesh and purée with immersion blender. Measure 1 cup into a medium mixing bowl; reserve the remainder for another use. (I probably used closer to 1 ½ cups.)

Combine the agar-agar and cream in a small saucepan and mix well. Let stand 30 minutes. Transfer to a burner and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Reduce the heat and simmer 10 minutes. Strain through a fine sieve into the bowl with the squash.

Add mascarpone, thyme, Aleppo pepper (or cayenne) and salt to the bowl and mix with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula until smooth and well blended. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Divide the mixture among the prepared custard cups and let stand until set, about 1 hour.

Run a spatula around the rim of each panna cotta and carefully unmold onto small serving plates. (They can be reheated in a 350°F oven for 5 minutes, either in the ramekins or after unmolding them.) (We just served them in the miniature ramekins, with little spoons.)

Serves 4. (We served 11 as an amuse bouche.)

Urban Family Thanksgiving

My lovely guardian angel sister-friend Anne declared, "Let's have an urban family Thanksgiving dinner here!" And that is exactly what we did.

Here is what we served:

Lillet Blanc over fresh tangerine zest (on the rocks)

Assorted cheeses (an aged sheep's milk gouda, a garrotxa, a tangy blue, a creamy brie-like cow's milk cheese) with pumpkin butter, sunflower honey, fig-almond spread, sliced New York apples & crispbread

Butternut squash panna cotta

A red salad of pomegranate, beets, red onion & blood oranges

(A choice of Albariño or pinot noir with dinner)

Roast duck & cornbread dotted with dried cherries

Hazelnut, sage, & mushroom stuffing

Cranberry chutney

Shaved Brussels sprouts with pecorino romano

Gingered yams with mustard greens

Homemade pumpkin and cherry pies with mulled apple cider granita

Annie made pie crust from scratch!

Food Poem Fridays: Louise Glück's HARVEST

Harvest by Louise Glück

It's autumn in the market--
not wise anymore to buy tomatoes.
They're beautiful still on the outside,
some perfectly round and red, the rare varieties
misshapen, individual, like human brains covered in red oilcloth--

Inside, they're gone. Black, moldy--
you can't take a bite without anxiety.
Here and there, among the tainted ones, a fruit
still perfect, picked before decay set in.

Instead of tomatoes, crops nobody really wants.
Pumpkins, a lot of pumpkins.
Gourds, ropes of dried chilies, braids of garlic.
The artisans weave dead flowers into wreaths;
they tie bits of colored yarn around dried lavender.
And people go on for a while buying these things
as though they thought the farmers would see to it
that things went back to normal:
the vines would go back to bearing new peas;
the first small lettuces, so fragile, so delicate, would begin
to poke out of the dirt.

Instead, it gets dark early.
And the rains get heavier; they carry
the weight of dead leaves.

At dusk, now, an atmosphere of threat, of foreboding.
And people feel this themselves; they give a name to the season,
harvest, to put a better face on these things.

The gourds are rotting on the ground, the sweet blue grapes are finished.
A few roots, maybe, but the ground's so hard the farmers think
it isn't worth the effort to dig them out. For what?
To stand in the marketplace under a thin umbrella, in the rain, in the cold,
no customers anymore?

And then the frost comes; there's no more question of harvest.

The snow begins; the pretense of life ends.
The earth is white now; the fields shine when the moon rises.

I sit at the bedroom window, watching the snow fall.
The earth is like a mirror:
calm meeting calm, detachment meeting detachment.

What lives, lives underground.
What dies, dies without struggle.