Oh, autumn. I see scarves and overcoats and piles of red leaves and frost on windows in the morning. I see cocktail parties and pickling parties and pie parties in the evenings. I see tote bags on the counter with swiss chard and brown-papered baguettes sticking out of the top. I see hot chocolate and spiced coffee and croissant sandwiches from the shop down the street. I see Thanksgiving day with appetizer after appetizer: pears and gorgonzola, cheese tarts, dishes of pickles and cheese and cured meats bought from the local gourmet shop with hot buttered rums and hard cider. I see multiple dinner courses, starting with a butternut squash or pear soup and a four-hour dinner with a bottle of wine per person. I see an apartment full of people that wax poetic about vinegars and wear hipster glasses and have well-behaved dogs.
Which means that I spend entirely too much time in my my Bon Appetit magazine.