It's the first Sunday of November and ah, it's been quite the week. So long, Lou Reed. So long, evening sun. So long, (this is for real now) tomatoes and eggplant. So long, clever and scary Halloween costumes. Goodbye Día de los Muertos sugar skulls and flickering, candlelit street altars. Hello bare branches and leaf-clogged gutters and cold foggy mornings. Hello roots and squash and garlic. Hello old sweaters and thick, wooly socks. Welcome, 'these dark days of autumn rain … as beautiful as days can be.' Welcome, November, and the comforts you inspire.
Comfort me with soups, with bowls of steaming noodles and spice, bowls of slow-cooked beans with shreds of pork and chunks of sweet potatoes. Comfort me with salty miso broth, with rice cooked in chicken stock and chilies, with thick stews made with oxtails and red wine and lots of garlic. Comfort me with an oven-warmed kitchen and the smell of slow-roasting onions and thyme and the solace of cupboards and freezer well-stocked with the harvest's overflow.
The gifts of November are found in contrasts and comforts. A tree bare of leaves but dotted with ripe persimmons; a pile of gourds and squash made vibrant and glistening with rain; the end of the harvest ushering in the beginning of the feasting season. Beauty, loss, warmth, sustenance, the grief of endings all tumbled together. Don't separate them out. Find instead the strength to hold it all, knowing that it would be impossible anyway, to undo their beautiful, tangled alliance.
For further inspiration, a tumble of links, poems and of course, Lou Reed:
- Samin on planning Thanksgiving.
- Robert Frost, on how to appreciate November: My November Guest.
- A nice November dinner: Spaghetti Squash with Meatballs from Roost.
- Laurie Anderson, from the obituary she wrote for her husband, Lou Reed: "Long live the beauty that comes down and through and onto all of us."
- Lou Reed, on how to spend a Sunday morning: