Album Artwork by Colin Sutherland

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

RIGHT CLICK “SAVE AS” TO DOWNLOAD!!!
 

Big Boi (feat. Gucci Maine)Shine Blockas//Amy WinehouseValerie//Frank Ocean-Thinkin About You (Ryan Hemsworth Remix)//Flight Facilities- Dreams (Fleetwood Mac Remix)//Bon Iver-Towers (Jonathan Lee Remix)//RhyeThe Fall//Andrew BirdOrpheo//Local NativesBreakers//Sky FerreiraEverything is Embarrasing//GoldroomFifteen
 
This mixtape is a tribute to a season where the weather is not yet freezing, where the leaves change colors, squashes and pumpkins hit the farmers markets, and there is a plethora of good seasonal beer. I go through phases of obsession with different beverages, in the spring it was wine, in the summer it was cocktails and this fall it has been American microbrewed beer. Below is a list of a couple of beers that I hope you all can get your hands on at one point or another, some are only made this season and others just go well with the chilly weather:

Shipyard Pumpkinhead, Portland, ME
Victory Festbier, Downingtown, PA
Abita Turbodog, New Orleans, LA
Bluepoint White IPA, Bluepoint, NY
Anderson Valley Boont Amber Ale, Boonville, CA
Sweetwater 420 Extra Pale Ale, Atlanta, GA
Bell’s Two Hearted Ale, Galesberg, MI
Full Nelson Pale Ale, Afton, VA

 
 



 
Ever since watching Take This Waltz, a beautiful film by Canadian director Sarah Polley, I’ve wanted to make blueberry muffins. The movie opens on a shot of the young Margot cooking in a colorful, sunlit, and boiling kitchen. It’s the middle of the summer, so it seems, in Toronto, and she’s making blueberry muffins. They go into the oven, she leans against the oven door waiting as they cook, but we never see them come out. I wondered, but who eats these muffins?
 
The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook, just out, is a glorious compilation of Deb Perelman’s delicious concoctions. She’s outdone herself with a series of stunning recipes. Over breakfast I leaf through her book. It’s in my living room, either on the table or on the futon, always an arm’s reach away. She has a recipe of plum poppy seed muffins, which I adapted into blueberry cardamom poppy seed muffins. The trick is to brown the butter beforehand and to barely stir the batter. This past Saturday as I was strolling at the Farmer’s Market at Grand Army Plaza I bought two muffins, apple & walnut and blueberry. They were full to the brim with fruits and nuts, but too sweet and sticky. The Smitten Kitchen recipe achieves a fine balance, essential to the muffin: very light sweetness, softness with a moist center, and a crispy top. I like the pop and crunch of the seeds and the bright blue coloring of the berries. Next time I have a potluck brunch, I know I’ll be bringing these muffins. Though for lazy days I stop by a neighborhood favorite, Blue Sky Bakery (@53 5th Avenue, Brooklyn).
 

KEEP READING & EATING


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

There’s a storm outside. I haven’t left my apartment since Saturday night and between reading workshop submissions and Dracula I’ve taken a little break: drawing and cookies. I have rice keeping warm in the rice-cooker, a ripe mango and avocado, enough spaghetti for a week. Miraculously, there’s butter, sugar, flour and chocolate for baking, no matter the occasion.
 
I’m reminded of the time I was camping with my class. I was living in Australia and it didn’t take much to go out into the bush. We were in our tents but the rain was coming down so hard that the floors flooded. Soon the tents were floating in muddy water and our bags looked like small, very wet boats. I’d packed my clothes in plastic bags upon my father’s recommendation. We all relocated to the communal kitchen in the camping ground (the excitement of sleeping all together, girls and boys side-by-side, even though the floor was hard and our backs hurt!). In the morning we dried our clothes in the sun and cooked lunch. Less exciting for the parents and teachers, perhaps.
 
But let me return to this storm. The first thing I did today, after coffee and breakfast, was to get started on these cookies. They never let me down, so here I’ll share the recipe and hope that you, as well, have the ingredients stocked up in your stormproof home. Most importantly, we hope that you are warm and safe.
 

KEEP READING & EATING



 
I thought it was winter, with the cold mornings and wet streets, except yesterday I shed my tights and walked about in lower Manhattan (in search of chocolates) with bare arms. Hot weather, we could almost say. Which brings me to cold meals, salads of various sorts, cold rice, cold noodles. The dish I discovered recently has eggplant and mango. The colors are vibrant, the flavor is on the sweet side, and the consistency is a combination of eggplant & mango moistness and the crispness of red onions & fresh herbs. I love this recipe because it achieves a delicate balance between fresh and fried, it is fancy enough for guests, comforting on a warm day, and can be prepared in advance.
 
Make sure to abundantly salt the eggplant, so as to counterbalance the sweetness of the sugary rice vinegar dressing.
 

KEEP READING & EATING



 
The last days have been grey and cold in New York, and every morning I seem to awaken to the sound of cars swishing down the street and lapping small waves onto the pavement. That’s when I know, early in the day, that there will be more rain, wind, gloomy weather. Despite my curtainless windows, my room is dark as winter’s night. Perhaps the ideal weather for writing, warming your hands with tea or simply hot water – it tastes better than cold in autumn – the climate one hopes for reading and writing. While my heater remains cold, and I’m layered in various items of clothing, I prefer to keep myself occupied. This is decidedly stewing weather.
 
There’s something quite magical about stews: I’ve heard that my Japanese grandmother, who preferred western cuisine, was famous for her pot-au-feu; my mother once recounted a wild boar stew she ate, cooked in a cauldron over hot embers, in a room so smoky that she could barely see her food; and when I’m feeling patient, when I’m having trouble writing, it’s easy to throw ingredients into a pot and feel a sense of purpose. There’s an element of wizardry, stones stewing in water until they turn into meat, and we rarely go wrong, no danger of overcooking or creating an ugly dish. Stew—it’s supposed to look like a mess and fall apart with the nudge of your spoon.
 

KEEP READING & EATING


Illustrations by Hugo Yoshikawa

There are all kinds of things one can add to a bowl of rice: butter, ketchup, vinegar, a sprinkle of fish sauce, salt, oil, and on, and on, and of course, soy sauce. I’ve seen dozens of people grasp a bottle of soy sauce, when faced with what they see as the bland bowl of white rice, and douse it until each grain is coated in dark brown liquid. Almost every household has soy sauce, from Japan to China to Europe to America. It sits beside the salt, vinegar and olive oil. In fact, we like to add it to all stir fries and anything vaguely Asian. What is soy sauce? It’s made from soybeans, wheat and salt; it’s salty and savory, sometimes even earthy.
 
I grew up on soy sauce: my mum added it to just about everything, though most of the time I could barely taste the hint of soy sauce hidden in a dish. At home we dipped steamed Chinese buns in a mixture of soy sauce and olive oil. The traditional balsamic was promptly substituted by soy sauce. Then I dipped all kinds of breads (baguette, whole grain chunks, even focaccia…) into the soy sauce and olive oil mixture, thinking this was the most natural combination.
 
Soy sauce was the secret ingredient in our tomato sauce, served over steaming spaghetti and topped with grated Parmesan. Soy sauce was added to almost all salad dressings. Stirred-in with watered down mayonnaise, or with oil and lemon juice, it added a flavor to our dressings that always left my friends licking their lips and asking for more.
 

KEEP READING & EATING