Photo credit: Peter Schweitzer
Do you know what I mean by “that fall feeling”? It’s a sensory thing. The air getting just crisp enough for a sweater, but no jacket. Coffee, exposed to the chilled air, giving off curls of steam. Music with cello, piano, and brushed drums. Reading on a park bench. Pacing the room in the lamplight, because the night is so long and there is so much you can do. The morning commute suddenly full of possibilities. New projects with clean lines leading toward both personal growth and the betterment of the universe!
As a young adult I became fixated on that fall feeling, creating as many moments of it as I could. I wanted to eat the feeling, too. The truest form was eating the savory pies my mother cooked from the
Moosewood Cookbook. Nothing tasted more like the season, more comforting and nourishing, than those pies. Walnuts crushed into the crust, layers of root vegetables, lots of thyme, sharp cheddar, succulent mushrooms, ribbons of greens.
In the intervening years, that palette has expanded. Chili peppers, charred over a blazing hot flame. Eggplant, plump with olive oil, delectably savory. Deep orange kuri squash, slowly roasted until almost candied. Roasted garlic, fried shallots. Big pieces of sheep’s milk feta or chalky goat cheese between crispy pieces of purple kale. Potatoes cooked in duck fat. I’ve found some ways to eat that fall feeling and would like to share them, so here we go!
A salad recipe for creating "that fall feeling" in a weekday lunch at work, with minimal kitchen access:
a bunch of lacinato kale or collard greens
torn croutons, made at home ahead of time, with lots of olive oil, black pepper, and herbs
OR a handful of toasted almonds or hazelnuts
a lemon or splash of apple cider vinegar
a ripe pear
a hunk of really salty pecorino romano
olive oil
protein: leftover roasted chicken or pork, slices of hanger steak, or smoked trout
a big bowl
Tear the leaves from the kale or collards, then tear the leaves some more, or roll them up like a bundle and slice into ribbons. Zest and juice half the lemon and squeeze the juice over the leaves. Or, toss the leaves with the apple cider vinegar. Sprinkle with salt and massage with your hands for about a minute. Peel big pieces of pecorino with a vegetable peeler or small knife. Slice the pear into pleasing bite-sized pieces. Prep the protein, dividing whatever you’re using into smaller pieces. Toss the croutons into the bowl, or chop the nuts and add them. Scatter over lemon zest. Drizzle with olive oil, add the pecorino and pears, and gently toss again. Add the protein and crack over lots of black pepper. Throw in flaky salt. Eat the salad in a quiet corner, some semi-secret zone only you go to. Put that big bowl on your lap and have a grand time.
A tomato recipe for creating “that fall feeling” in an afternoon snack:
On a blustery but dry day, when your garden (or your neighbor’s front yard garden) is hanging on, but only by a thread, go looking for a super ripe tomato. You’ll know which one when you see it. Head back inside, grabbing a sprig of rosemary as you go, if there is one to grab. Make a piece of toast from some good, crusty bread. While it is toasting, peel a clove of garlic and pound the rosemary with the blunt edge of a big knife. Rub the toast with the garlic, followed by the rosemary. Think of it like the gust of wind that will make the photograph. Drizzle the toast heavily with olive oil. Like, the olive oil should go through the toast and onto the cutting board. Immediately smash the tomato into the garlicky, rosemary-y, olive-oily toast. Sprinkle with salt, crack over black pepper. Eat standing up, watching leaves blow around outside the window, hearing Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bookends” in your head.
A mushroom toasty recipe for creating "that fall feeling" in a quick, weeknight supper:
Spread two slices of good bread with good mustard. On the outsides, spread a thin layer of butter. Flip on the broiler and place a cookie sheet in there to get hot. Brush and trim the mushrooms. Keep them whole, and cook them in butter in a cast iron pan. Press down to release their moisture. Flip them carefully. Don’t crowd. Let the exteriors crisp a little. Thickly grate some aged white cheddar, gouda, taleggio, or whatever delicious melting cheese you fancy. Sprinkle a layer on the mustard side of the bread. Pile the mushrooms over this layer, then top with another layer of cheese. Pull out the hot baking sheet, using oven mitts, and set down on the stovetop. Move the composed toasties from the work surface to the baking sheet. The butter should sizzle a little upon impact. Return the sheet to the oven and broil until the cheese bubbles, the bottoms of the toasties are golden, and the everything is piping hot. Eat open-faced or press the two toasts together. Consider more mustard.
A galette recipe for tasting forkfuls of "that fall feeling":
Savory rye galette with roasted squash, chanterelles, goat cheese, and fried shallots
Roast slices of kuri squash, tossed with a mixture of melted butter and olive oil. Tuck a trimmed head of garlic, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt, in with the squash. Bake until the squash is tender and has begun to darken in color, and the garlic is soft, spreadable, and meltingly tender.
While this is roasting, roll out your favorite savory pie crust, made ahead of time with your favorite recipe. Whatever the method, make sure it is very cold, but still pliable, before loading it with the filling.
Slice the shallot thinly and fry the pieces in a shallow pool of olive oil for one minute, then agitate. When they’ve started to crisp up, turn off the heat. The shallots will finish cooking in the hot oil. Drain and set aside. Break a little ball of chèvre into pieces and set aside.
Pop the soften garlic cloves out of their skins, and then put your rolled-out crust into the freezer for a few minutes. Take it out and spread the roasted garlic in a circle in the center (like a pizza sauce), set the squash pieces in, and fold the edges of the pastry over. Bake at 425 degrees F for 10 minutes, 375 degrees F for 20 minutes, and 325 degrees F for 10 more minutes to finish.
During the last 10 minutes that the galette is in the oven: Melt some butter into the oil where the shallots were fried. Break the mushrooms apart to your preferred size, add them to the pan, and cover with a lid for one minute. Remove the lid and agitate the mushrooms. They’ll be tender and too moist; now you’re cooking the excess moisture out of them. Press down on them with a spatula and hear the water sizzle out. The pan-side edges should start to turn appetizingly brown. Flip those mushrooms over to do the other side.
When the galette is ready, pull it out and drop the chèvre pieces evenly over the squash. Scatter the mushroom pieces on top, and sprinkle with the crispy shallots. Tap Hungarian paprika over the pieces of chèvre and add a light dusting of flaky salt on the sweeter, squash-heavy areas. Serve hot, with a bowl of soup and/or an autumnal salad with some crunch. The galette is also delicious at room temperature. Take a slice for lunch the next day, and follow it with a pear and a handful of nuts.
A popcorn recipe for creating “that fall feeling” in a midnight snack:
Make popcorn with herbs, some smoked chili flakes, and aged gouda.
Step out onto the porch, balcony, or sidewalk with the hot popcorn.
Eat handfuls while looking up at the moon.
“That fall feeling” is fleeting. It’s like the smell of a book when you take it off the shelf. Also, the dull sound of the book sliding back onto the shelf or set down on the bedside table after the last page. It’s like the fire you watched down to the glowing embers, the wine you would have drunk if you hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch. It’s like the orange lamplight you remember from walking around at night long ago, crisp leaves making the shadows more interesting. Now most of those lamps have cold white LED lights in them. But you still can eat mushroom toast.
*Expanded versions of the recipes for the Mushroom Toasty and the Savory Rye Galette with roasted squash, chanterelles, goat cheese, and fried shallots are featured in
The Myrtlewood Cookbook: Pacific Northwest Home Cooking, available 10/3/17.
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Andrew Barton is a preschool teacher by day. He has co-run Secret Restaurant Portland since 2010, putting on dinners for 15 to 60 people, themes and styles varying upon location and inspiration. He also curates, edits, designs, and prints a series of letterpress books under the name Two Plum Press.
The Myrtlewood Cookbook is his first book.