The way to Christmas this year routed through marzipan, with this beautiful apple cake and filling of lovely Charlottesville heirloom apples from local Albemarle Baking Company on the drive from Brooklyn to Atlanta.

And then there was dancing.

With my sisters Kat and Kass, I surprised one of my mom’s dance classes as we threw Kooshes in the air with them, skipped and circled.

After that, we turned to the serious prep for Kassandra and Sean’s engagement party at my parents’ house. Kat diced the eggs for egg salad focaccia sandwiches,

while I folded peppers into the pimento cheese, also for dainty Southern sandwiches that went quickly later that night.

Reid we roused from his reflective newspaper perusal,

pressing him into service dicing cauliflower for airy fritters with egg whites.

I boiled gorgeous local Georgia shrimp,

and we continued cooking our way down the evening’s menu,

as Kassandra and Sean returned to the house with sample cakes to evaluate,

and the rented glassware sparkled in waiting.

That night, close friends and family arrived, with Grampa approving Reid’s tie (these images by Kat, who is a splendid photographer),

Photo by Katrina Taylor.

and the engaged couple entertained questions,

Photo by Katrina Taylor.

and accepted congratulations from Aunt Pam and Uncle Stewart,

Photo by Katrina Taylor.

who then caught up with Mom and Dad while I tended bar, making our signature blood orange-cava cocktail.

Photo by Katrina Taylor.

The next day was full of shopping and sipping and scheming for the annual family video that happened later that night, in our usual dance-around-the-garage-at-midnight-Christmas-Eve-and-scare-the-neighbors way.

I have to say that Kat and Reid comported themselves with dignity in their costume choices (Kass was our esteemed choreographer, of course); watch for the parental feature and a signing cameo:

And Christmas was full of laughing, as Kevin and Grampa deciphered opening a tool set together (they’ll tell that story differently),

and we watched as the snow began to fall, making it the first white Christmas at their house that I can remember…

Image courtesy Fred Truman.

This fall, I was fortunate to be able to have a class of smart graduate students at NYU’s ITP think through community interactions during our fourteen weeks together. (You can see our syllabus for “communitp” and go through our blog archive and Twitter account for more details.)

At the conclusion of class, I invited them over for dinner (to be precise, they asked, and I was delighted to cook for all of us).

Thinking about appropriate holiday food, I asked for dietary restrictions and allergies, so as to honor those, and was reminded that one of the students is vegan.

What often surprises me is how cooks feel they need to craft entirely separate menus for those with specific food preferences.

I found myself thinking about foods that are green and warming—and I formed a menu around inclusion, starting with the simple roasted tomatillo salsa (roast skinned, chopped tomatillos for 20 minutes at 425 degrees F) that I served with chips and traditional guacamole when they arrived.

I had roasted sliced fractal cauliflower (we discussed the science behind communities in class),

in between stirring crushed red pepper and minced garlic into chopped parsley for a chimichurri sauce.

Nothing builds happy communities at the table like garlic, I’ve found in intensive research.

And I roasted coins of purple carrots and halved brussels sprouts while the roasted green spelt (freekeh) bubbled and softened on top of the stove.

Everything was vegan (good oil is all you need to roast veg and stir into drained grains), except the seared pork shoulder that I had let burnish slowly for six hours during the day before pulling it apart and setting it aside.

When we could all be persuaded to pause just long enough to claim seats around the table, those of us who eat meat stirred little bits into the freekeh with roasted veg and chimichurri. In 2011, consider making meat optional and a condiment—you’ll find it liberating. For those of you worried about protein, whole grains like freekeh and quinoa are excellent choices.

We were too busy toasting and talking about the upcoming ITP Winter Show (which was great) for me to take pictures,

but we agreed it was a lovely way to finish the semester over dessert: my homemade brandied prune plums spooned over bourbon gelato, vanilla ice cream, and ginger sorbet.

Thank you again to the seven who made it to dinner, and to all fourteen of you who inspired me to think and work on community in new ways. I miss our class meetings already…

With all the fun of December, Thanksgiving photos never quite made it up here. It’s a little late, but shall we?

I made my usual early start (5 a.m.) to cook down the list, pausing for a moment before I made the smashed potatoes in early afternoon.

Knowing I am mostly finished by that point, I always feel comforted. The clabbered milk (add a squeeze of lemon to whole milk and let it sit for five minutes to create buttermilk) I poured from a Mason jar went in before the butter to finish the dish.

My friend Tricia took some wonderful shots of the side dishes after she arrived with Kenyatta–

Image by Tricia Wang

and I’m relying on her images as our guest list grew from six the day before to fourteen an hour before (someone sat on a camping chair and some of us ate on palm leaf plates!), so I was slightly distracted.

There were roasted butternut squash and local apples with pepitas for crunch and sage:

Image by Tricia Wang

Also roasted brussel sprouts and pears with ginger and lemon zest–I’m very interested in combining fruits and veg with a dominant spice or herb in side dishes lately:

Image by Tricia Wang

If memory serves, a carrot-top pesto went on roasted cauliflower, I improvised a chard-quinoa dish, the usual cranberry-orange sauce was chilled, and everyone raved over the Thomas Keller leek bread pudding.

The turkey I did remember to document, as I want to remember this seventeen-pound beaut from Di Paolo at the Grand Army Farmers’ Market. This is a salt brine, oil rub, and little else that took about three hours in the oven:

For the dramatic dessert presentations, Kevin’s mother unmolded her tiramisu,

that we shared responsibility for whipping heavy cream for that she spread on top and sprinkled with chocolate chips before slicing.

And Francis, who is my good friend Solana’s cousin and a fabulous cook (it runs in their family),

cut into her two derby pies. I had a very hard time deciding whether I liked the traditional or the chocolate, and insisted on keeping the tiny remainder of one pie. We completed the bourbon theme with small-batch versions of bourbon vanilla gelato and of the spirit itself.

I looked around the crowded table at friends (I like this shot of Bre and Kio) and extended family,

laughing and learning about living in New York and I took notes from Linda on standing your ground as a feminist.

But the biggest lesson I learned this year (and I think it was Solana who articulated it best) is this: it takes generations eating together to make it truly feel like Thanksgiving.

For all recipes, see my Thanksgiving primer post.

I have been cooking the big Thanksgiving meal for my family for years now, and I wake up early and cook straight through to the meal (no prep beforehand). It’s possible, even with one oven and some flaky burners.

Your goal? Splendid leftovers, like this sandwich I made last year:

Here’s how I do T Day in ten steps:

1. Wake up early and make desserts first. Convince someone to bring dessert (hint: most people don’t actually like pumpkin pie of any sort) or buy pie crusts and start there.

Do not take up hours on dessert because we are cooking a whole meal, not just a few recipes.

I like to make apple turnovers—this can be done with bought phyllo dough after the meal and before dessert—and drizzle them with dulce de leche (from a jar) and ice cream.

My recommended recipe: Use store-bought phyllo dough and let it defrost on the counter during the meal. Crank the oven to 400 degrees F. Grate 2 apples (try Honeycrisp or Granny Smith), stir in the zest and juice of half a lemon (zest it first) and a tablespoon of sugar. Let it be while you line two baking sheets with parchment paper, cut the dough into squares (about five inches). Spoon a big tablespoon into each, fold it over, crimp the edges with a fork, sprinkle with cinnamon-sugar if you like. Bake for 20 min. Drizzle with dulce de leche and serve with ice cream of your preferred dairy or non-dairy.

2. Gravy next. This is annoying to make at the very end when the bird is cooling and everyone is crowding the kitchen. Make it ahead of time. And don’t actually make gravy. Make Marsala sauce (this is a good recipe to have on hand anyway).

Take the neck and giblets out of the bird (which should be defrosted and ready to put in the oven soon). Add 1 tbsp olive oil to a saute pan and add the neck and giblets; cook, stirring, five minutes. Remove. Add 1 strip of bacon and let it render until nicely browned. Remove the bacon (eat it, obviously) and melt 3 tbsp unsalted butter in the pan with rendered bacon fat, add half a chopped onion, cooking over medium until translucent (about four minutes). Add 2 tbsp of flour and stir for two minutes, until it disappears into the onion. (If you feel fancy, use two shallots instead for better flavor.) Add 1 cup of good stock (chicken or veal) if you have it—if not, sub in water, and 1/2 cup dry Marsala wine and boil for 5 min until reduced to your preferred consistency. Season with salt and pepper. (Note: Please join me in ridding the world of those nasty gravy packets sold at grocers. And only use dry Marsala wine.)

3. Now, chop the veg. Use knives earlier in the day when people aren’t milling about, trying to help. When the veg is chopped, your reward is opening the bubbly (Mimosas, darlings). So, this is a holiday for vegheads and we will roast the sog out of our old friends, root vegetables. Adjust the oven shelves so you can use both simultaneously.

With the oven at 425 degrees F, brussel sprouts should be halved (if larger than a ping-pong ball, quarter them) and placed on a baking sheet. Core and chop 1 pear into 1/2 inch pieces for every two handfuls of brussels. Using your hands, toss the brussel sprouts and pears with a few tablespoons of oil, and spread into a single layer. Roast for 20 minutes, shaking once. You want them to be soft and also have some color. Note: the trendy thing this year is to stir Sriracha sauce and honey into brussels—I like harissa instead. For T Day, mince a few teaspoons of ginger to stir in. Let cool. (Ginger also aids digestion and your family will love you even more.)

While the brussels and pears cook, peel a 3 lb butternut squash and chop. Then, leave the skin on a few apples (again, Honeycrisp are nice) and chop them. Toss the apples and butternut squash with oil and roast for 20-30 minutes, shaking every ten minutes. Meanwhile, toast a handful of pepitas (pumpkin seeds) in a dry pan over medium heat until they pop, then throw them in the food processor with a few tablespoons of olive oil and spin until it becomes a dressing (a few strong pulses should be enough). Pour dressing over squash and fruit when out of oven. Let cool.

Take the greens off the top of the carrots, wash and spin in the food processor with one clove of minced garlic, a pinch of crushed red pepper, and some oil. Peel the carrots and halve lengthwise (quarter if large) and do the same with parsnips, if using, or cut a fennel bulb horizontally into half-inch slices. Roast carrots and parsnips/fennel for 20-30 minutes, shaking every 10. Cool and stir the carrot-top chimichurri in.

Congrats: you are mostly done. Turn the oven down to 350 degrees F.

4. It’s time to put the bird in—perhaps you brined the turkey with salt for a few days? Set the timer. And, if cooking for fewer than ten people, consider turkey alternatives; roast chicken is really a very nice thing and two small chickens are more fun and easier to roast. Just a thought. You need about a pound to pound and a half (weight before cooking) per person partaking.

5. Bread pudding/stuffing: chop three leeks for the bread pudding of your choice. And cube a loaf of bread (1-inch pieces) for that. Thomas Keller’s savory bread pudding is incredibly delicious and a bit fussy–don’t hold it in the oven, as it will dry out. Chop the leeks and then let someone assemble the pudding (they can scissor in the chives). Note: children are awesome at layering prepped ingredients. Or use the family recipe of choice. (I think oyster stuffing is sketchy, personally. Make a quick champagne vinaigrette and have the oysters before the meal instead.) Do what you will, but do not sub in random coconut/almond/soy dairy imposters in stuffing—make it into panzanella instead.

6. One more chop: any potatoes larger than golf balls. Look for fingerlings or small purple potatoes (these are often sold in packages now) and buy at least three pounds. Put potatoes (do not peel!) at the bottom of a large stockpot, cover with water (water should go an inch above the potatoes), bring to boil. Simmer for twenty minutes, until you can slide a knife through, but it doesn’t fall apart. Drain. Let cool. Then, put the potatoes in a big bowl and smush them with a masher or large spoon. Add big pats of butter, some buttermilk (add 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice to 1 cup whole milk and let it sit five minutes to clabber it into buttermilk), stir, and season heavily. Put in the fridge and heat back up later. Add Parm and scallions if you feel so moved. I usually do.

7. Open bottles now. I like to open bubbly first, then a minerally white if the table allows (usually doesn’t) and a lighter Pinot Noir for the rest of the meal.

8. Make cranberry sauce. Take 1 pint of cranberries and simmer them with 1/2 cup of orange juice, 1/2 cup water, and 1/2 cup sugar for five minutes. Add orange zest while cooking. Cranberries should pop. Let cool. Taste. (You can also use champage/cava/prosecco as a cooking liquid here.) If you have time and/or helpers, sugar a few berries and some sage leaves to top the sauce.

9. If you are feeling anxious about the vegetarians and vegans in attendance (who are already taken care of by most of the dishes above), make quinoa (takes about five minutes) and stir in pomegranate seeds and walnuts, pecans, or almonds with a little oil. It’s a glistening dish of protein and complete amino acids. Look for black or red quinoa for color.

10. Make kale salad to start the meal. If you can find baby kale, use the whole stem too—if not, just use the leaves. You can rip them into a bowl. Find a helper and have them massage (seriously, massage) a little kosher salt into the leaves and add some vinegar and oil; season. Let it sit while you arrange the dishes or plate.

Finally, encourage carving in the kitchen. Wrest the electric knife away if possible, and cut each breast in half, slice with the skin, then arrange the legs and wings on the rest of the platter. If the bird looks dry, pour a little melted butter over it.

Have a lovely, lovely Thanksgiving. And don’t forget about that sandwich.

Last Wednesday, I fried an egg on top of a beautiful piece of leftover spinach pizza from Fornino in my neighborhood for breakfast.

And on Thursday, I flew to San Francisco, hopped in my rental car, and zoomed to Santa Cruz, just in time to help Renata chop root vegetables (she sprays them with water and sometimes wine, a brilliant trick) before and during roasting at high heat,

and when everyone arrived to learn more about cooking for Thanksgiving, she made her delicious green eggs (wilted spinach with poached eggs on top, spiced) that are an excellent breakfast any time of year:

Margaret’s daughter Madeline took careful notes,

and Renata laughed to show us how she freezes her herbs to keep them through the winter (her wonderful energy and enthusiasm for cooking well is infectious).

Steaming vegetables to go with lovely rice and lentils that Renata poured coconut milk into, imparting a subtle, full flavor,

all of us in her cooking class sat to eat together.

And on Friday morning, I caught up with Margaret, after we watched a sea otter turn,

over Eggs Benedict with avocado looking out over the boats in Capitola,

and walked to the lighthouse and back, reflecting on the events of the three months since I left Santa Cruz, and all the exciting secret projects we are plotting.

On Saturday, I drove from Santa Cruz to Venice Beach, arriving in time for an afternoon shopping stroll with Laura, LJ, and Julie,

and we discovered overgrown pebbles and that night, sautéed pea shoots with lemon at Cube, my new favorite LA restaurant. (Laura always knows the best places to go.)

Sunday morning, more green eggs—this time, poached on top of grits with beet greens and chorizo, all from the Santa Monica Farmers’ Market vendors themselves and cooked at Bean & Thyme.

And we found Lily’s Fertile Eggs (Laura was promised that she wouldn’t be able to return to regular eggs. We’ll see…),

then, it was time for a beach day, a warm 75 degrees Fahrenheit in the middle of November.

On Sunday night, John, Dave, Ben, and LJ arrived for a dinner party at Laura’s apartment,

with a persimmon-tomato salad (these are persimmons and persimmon tomatoes, Laura’s clever idea) with burrata,

and Momofuku’s Ginger-Scallion noodles with quick pickles (forgive the dramatic lighting here, my camera flash decided to go Instagram on me) and sugar snap peas, red pepper, skirt steak, and bok choy.

Laura threw together a lovely apple crisp that finished the meal perfectly, the way she does.

On Monday, I spent the day working from Laura’s apartment with a brief break for a walk to Intelligentsia for one of their amazing chocolate-pecan cookie sandwiches with buttercream filling from CakeMonkey:

and to marvel at the small, welded warriors on the Venice boardwalk.

I was sad to leave, as always, but happy to know that I will return in February if not before to see these friends, so important in my life. In the meantime, I take inspiration from my new little warrior friends to surmount the challenges in the months ahead…