I spent the morning surrounded by  ribbons and wrapping paper and excited niecelets (who were bouncing on my bed at 5:15 AM), in a mess of holiday gifting. The other night it was Chanukah candles, presents, and latkes. It’s that time of year.

I asked you last week about the best gift you’d ever given or received, and again you blew my mind and cracked my heart open. You guys are amazing.

In this season of buying and giving, I wanted to share your incredible stories. I hope you don’t mind. They were too good to keep to myself, and the best reminder of what truly matters to us.

Today I am feeling grateful for one of my best presents: YOU. Thanks for being here, for sharing your stories, for reading along.

Happy Holidays,

—Tara

Winner of An Everlasting Meal is Anna N. Congratulations. Please send me your address!

One of the best gifts I ever got: a donation in my name to Doctors without Borders!
—Beyond

The best gift this year has been my mom’s health. This time last year was round after round of doctor visits trying to balance medications, get a clear diagnosis… amidst mom’s increasing fatigue. So I’m thrilled that she’s so much healthier this year.
—Nikki

One of the best gifts I have received was an envelope from my cousin with some pictures of my mom I had never seen after she suddenly passed away.
—Flor de Maria

A couple of years ago for Mother’s Day, my husband surprised me with some of my grandmother’s recipes. That took persistence and a bit of detective work on his part. It also meant that he had listened to my stories of her cooking and my wish that her recipes were available to me.
—Laura

One of the best gifts I ever received was a personally written poem on a piece of tree bark written by a friend who had gone away to his cottage for a weekend. He used the piece of bark he had cut from doing some outdoor work. The poem had come with a cassette single of a song we had listened to in the car after an outing a week previously. I had mentioned at that time that it was one of my favourite songs, so my friend thoughtfully remembered and bought me the single. This was years ago, but still a present given with a lot of love and one I think of fondly.
—Zara

Without a doubt my most wonderful gift has been that of parenthood. No material item compares with having the opportunity to raise a child, and the blessing of a husband with whom to share these joys.
—Cathy

Health is the best gift I’ve ever received.
—Lee

All of my friends have multiple kiddos. Each Christmas, one of the kiddos gets the gift of a day with me, doing whatever fun activities they choose (within reason). I love getting to spend that time with them and I know they like having one on one time without their pesky siblings.  It’s great being the fun Auntie!
—Elena

My most wonderful gift is the one I’m getting this year. I am going back to the country I was adopted from. I’ve never been back and my daughter is teaching English there. I hope to visit the orphanage and see the country.
—Carolyn

The best gift I ever got was a plain silver ring on my thirteenth birthday, from a friend who used to babysit for me when I was a kid. She told me that she often wore rings to remind herself of things that were important to her, and this one was to remind me to be true to myself. I wasn’t much for jewelry at the time, but I started wearing it every day and I still do.
—Anna

Best gift I ever received was my wedding ring when my husband proposed by asking my father (at his gravesite) for my hand in marriage. And second best—my ten-year anniversary ring from my husband with ten sparkling sapphires. But really the best gift is just the gift of love.
—Jamie

The best gift . . .my husband bought me new, safer tires for Valentine’s Day.
—Rachel

Hands down, the best gift I ever got for Christmas was my dog, Cora. She is a rescued mutt, but the sweetest, prettiest, funniest mutt in all Muttdom.
—Zoomie

Favorite gift received: my late grandma’s Kitchenaid mixer. Cause, mixers are awesome, of course. But also because I never cease to be amazed at the sheer volume of cookies that grandma could coax out of that thing!
—Cynthia

The best present I ever received was a mysterious box which I opened at a family dinner. Inside was a frosted bottle which looked as if it had been rolled in the ocean for a long time, along with a pair of lobster crackers and a note tucked into the neck of the bottle. When I read it, I was astonished to find that my family had rented a wonderful old farmhouse near Falmouth, Maine, and were taking me there to celebrate my 60th birthday – all the way from SoCal. The best thing was that there was no time to think about it, as the trip was in a couple of days and all had been prepared behind the scenes for me. A memorable family time was had with plenty of lobster, fresh Nova Scotia salmon, lighthouse visiting and a trip to Mt Desert Island. It was the best birthday present ever!
—Lynnette

Your description of a good gift (something that delights the giver and that they want to give to another) reminded me of my best friend in college wanting to read his favorite book with me. It’s not really a ‘normal’ gift, but he knew I would love it so we read it out loud together and it was fantastic. Those reading sessions are some cherished memories—perhaps that’s the best part of the gift.
—Katie

Every year my husband gets me an ornament for our tree, and he always writes the year on it somewhere. He gave me this year’s the other night (a soft fabric elephant), and in addition to the year, he added “I [heart] u”. Then he decided he didn’t want that to ever wear off, so he spent several hours carefully embroidering it while watching football. It’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever given me.
—Rachel

For a year, I got to spend a day with my baby niece every week. I think it was the most wonderful mutual gift ever! Today my little nephew is coming over to spend the day with me and that puts me in the Holiday spirit more than any trip to the mall.
—Nik

When I returned to college at age 35, I lived in the dorms and went home to my lovely not-yet-husband on the weekends. It was a women’s college and in my wing all the “resumers” (over 25—but most of us late 30s and older) were housed. During finals—or some stressful time—a friend left a pinecone just outside my door. The note underneath read simply, “Love, Sylvie”. When I saw her at dinner and thanked her she said, “I knew you haven’t had time to take your walks these days and I thought it was something you might like.”

I had never mentioned my walks to anyone because I liked to take them alone on the beautiful woodsy campus and I had no idea anyone knew I did this almost daily. I still have that pinecone.
—Em

When we lived in Edinburgh, my family became close friends with a couple that worked in the cafe downstairs from our flat (yes, we were spoiled!). The woman, Sola, did most of the baking for the cafe and makes the most amazing cakes and goodies! I was always too shy to ask for the recipes, though. We love them both dearly and were crushed to move away from them when we headed to California.

The following Christmas, with no fanfare, a little brown package came in the mail– it was a handwritten cookbook of all Sola’s sweets recipes! I still get tears in my eyes thinking about how touched I was, stressed and homesick for Scotland, pulling that wee book out.
—Jenevieve

My best gift ever would have to be my boys.
—Barbara

I LOVED buying myself a house the day before Thanksgiving…then remodeling it during December. Through the years, the dining room filled with people, great food and great dinner parties. The claw-foot tub soaked away many a sore muscle and sore mind. The kitchen hosted lots of new recipes and canning projects. The garden grew fruit trees and chickens and veggies and herbs. The patio cultivated many cocktails. The fishpond turned ten-cent goldfish into “giant” koi. The porch swing saw roses grow and people walking dogs and neighbors stopping by. The guest rooms hosted visitors from Russia and Holland and many, many states. The park down the street hosted many walks with my German Shepherds. The driveway parked my first truck (BART…Big A– Red Truck), and my first “new” car. And the walls and windows held my goodbyes when I moved from the city to the mountains. Thank you to my first house. And thanks to the new homes in my life.
—Rose

I had to think for a while, because I have been a very fortunate woman — not rich in material goods, but rich in all the ways that count, and I have received many wonderful gifts. But I think one that really stands out was the Christmas I had nothing to give my children. I had fallen on Dec. 23 and injured my knee so badly I could not walk in a store — and I had not yet bought the Christmas gifts for my 3 girls, who were then 7, 9 and 11. They had been spending the week with their Dad, but they came back to my place on Christmas Day. They glanced at the empty stockings and no presents from me under the tree, then rushed to give me the presents they had gotten me: a pair of socks, some stationery, and a video of “My Fair Lady.” All they cared about was seeing me open their presents; they were so excited! And they had come up with My Fair Lady on their own — one of them had heard me say that year that I really loved that movie, and had remembered my comment. I knew then that my girls would be okay in life. They understood already that what counted was not how many presents they had under the tree, but the joy of giving to others.
—Terry

Thanks to all of you, for your big hearts and good humor. It is such a gift to me.

It’s getting a little crazy out there, folks. Crazy, crazy. I haven’t been in any shopping malls, but even the grocery stores are feeling a little panicked. People are staring down at shopping lists with furrowed brows. Have we gotten everything? What are we forgetting? You can feel the stress in the air.

“They do realize stores will be reopening on the 26th?” I joked with a checkout clerk this week. People were shopping like the apocalypse was coming.

“I think they forget,” he deadpanned back.

In case you are one of those people who are stressing about gifts not yet bought, I wanted to put together a last minute list. These are all great ideas—cool experiences that might open up someone’s world in neat and creative ways. They’re all things I would love myself. And they’re all things you can purchase over the computer or the phone, today or tomorrow. No shopping malls involved! So here we go, for those last minute presents—for someone else, or for yourself.

Mondo Beyondo—I’ve mentioned it here before, but I’ve loved the Mondo Beyondo course run by Andrea Scher and Jennifer Lemen. It’s a six-week online class devoted to clarifying and perusing your dreams. That might sound airy-fairy, but I like to think of it as empowering and inspiring. I’ve taken the class twice and have loved the community support and  guidance and examples set by Andrea and Jen (both of whom I’ve gotten to know over the last few years). I love the idea of giving this to someone who might not be entirely satisfied in their current life path, and I think doing this in January (their next class date) is a wonderful way to start a new year. Right now, if you leave a comment on Andrea’s site, you can get $20 off the class.

Superhero Photo—If Mondo Beyondo wasn’t cool enough, this year Andrea started another online workshop, devoted to photography. It’s called Superhero Photo, and while I haven’t taken this one I really want to. Again this is a six-week online course starting in January (creativity in the new year, yay!). It’s aimed at all levels and you don’t need a fancy camera. Andrea writes: “In this course we will find ourselves in that sweet spot where creativity, play and aliveness intersect.” That sounds pretty great to me.

Slice of Life Photo Course—My friend Darrah Parker runs another online photography class that might be more your speed (and starts in February, which might be better for your schedule). Slice of Life focuses on capturing the beauty in your everyday life. It’s not about technical photo mumbo-jumbo, more about developing your eye and your confidence. There’s also a discount on the class if you register before the end of December. Darrah is a sweet and supportive soul, and would make a wonderful guide into a more regular photography practice.

Rachel Cole’s Well-Fed Woman Retreatshop—more on the life-expansion side of things, Rachel Cole, who is a colleague become friend, guide, and inspiration to me, is taking her show on the road and leading mini retreat-workshops in cities around the country. I’ll be telling you more about Rachel in the new year, because she really is a wonderful teacher and coach, but if someone in your life, or even yourself, is looking for a dose of support, guidance, and inspiration in finding what it is that feeds your soul, this would be the best experiential gift I can think of.

Teahouse Studio—Have you heard about Teahouse Studio? If you happen to live in the Bay Area, you should know about this new treasure, opened by a trio of artists as a place for dreaming, community, and creativity. They’re offering a series of classes and workshops and I want to take them all. They are also offering gift certificates. This is a wonderful resource, and some of their offerings may be worth traveling for. What a great vacation—sunny California, art, creativity, cool people. Where do I sign up for that?

Omnivore Books—I’ve told you of this gorgeous cookbook store in San Francisco that I love so much I want to install a comfy sofa and move right in. Guess what, they also offer gift certificates and—even better— a signed cookbook club. Four times a year they will send out a carefully selected signed new release cookbook to the recipient of your choice. What a fun gift that keeps on giving all year round. You can purchase it through their website.

The Book Larder—I haven’t told you about The Book Larder yet, but I will soon. It’s the brand new and utterly delightful cookbook store here in Seattle. I might truly move in here, because they have a demonstration kitchen (so all that’s missing is a bed and desk for me). The kitchen is important, because it allows them to offer cooking classes, both with visiting chefs and cookbook authors, and also with local cooking teachers. You can buy tickets to classes and events online.

The Pantry at Delancey—Another Seattle resource you’ll be hearing more about, The Pantry at Delancey is the new offshoot from Delancey the restaurant. It’s a community kitchen that offers cooking classes, special dinners, and hard-to-find ingredients and kitchen items for sale as well. If you’re looking for a gift for a food-lover in Seattle, they offer class registrations online, and you can buy gift certificates as well. It could be a very delicious new year.

That’s it folks. Here’s to exciting new adventures and opportunities in the New Year.

And if you’re looking for little stocking stuffers or Hannukah gifts for friends and family who like to cook, here is my foodie gift guide from last year: Small, Cheap, Useful. I really love presents you’ll actually end up using.

Stay sane out there, friends. As I told the UPS guy who dropped off a package this morning: “Hang in there. It’s almost over.”

December of last year I was on a diet and pretty serious about it. I did a good job too. I sidestepped the Christmas cookies, I even skipped having a birthday cake. My resolve was impressive. Nothing could tempt me.

Then I made this caramel corn with chocolate.

There were a lot of caramel corn recipes floating around the internet last year, none of them particularly tempted me. Caramel corn is hardly earthshaking, even when done well. But one day I saw a bag of caramel corn with chocolate, made by a local company called Simply Sinful, and I couldn’t resist. I’m no longer allowed to walk down that aisle in the grocery store when hungry, because let me tell you people, caramel corn with bittersweet chocolate is amazing. It’s addictive, in fact, so much more than the sum of its parts.

I easily resisted every sweet treat last Christmas, except this one. By the end of the month I was calling it “crack corn.” By January I was in serious withdrawal. It is, in fact, earthshaking.

If you like unexpected treats, if you like sweet and salty and deep chocolaty and maybe even peanutty, you should definitely give this a try. Anyone you make it for will be grateful, and quite possibly addicted.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

CHRISTMAS CRACK CORN

12 cups popped corn
1 cup brown sugar
¼ cup light corn syrup
1/2 tsp salt
8 tbs (one stick) unsalted butter
½ tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla
I cup salted peanuts, roughly chopped (optional; I don’t love peanuts but you may)
6 oz (about 1 cup) semisweet chocolate chips (I use Ghirardelli 60%)
grapeseed, vegetable, or canola oil for greasing pans and bowls

Preheat oven to 250°

Prepare the popcorn using whatever method you prefer. If using a pot, 1 cup corn, 1/3 cup oil (grapeseed, vegetable, or canola) and ½ tsp salt should do the trick. If using microwave popcorn, buy an unbuttered, lightly salted variety. And did you know you can make your own microwave popcorn using a paper bag?

Grease a large mixing bowl with oil and measure out 12 cups of popcorn into the bowl.

In a medium pot or saucepan (make sure the sides are at least 3 inches high), add the sugar, corn syrup, butter, and ½ tsp salt. Measure out the vanilla and baking soda and have ready. Prep the peanuts (if using) before heating the sugar mixture.

You will also want to have two spoons or rubber spatulas close at hand, and a large baking sheet with sides or roasting pan. Coat all of these with a little oil.

See, doesn’t that caramel corn look naked by comparison? So sad.

Heat the sugar/butter mixture until it comes to a boil. Stir constantly for five minutes on a low boil. Take off the heat and add the baking soda and vanilla (it will get foamy). Stir to incorporate. Pour the caramel mixture over the popcorn (add the peanuts). Mix with the spoons/spatulas as best you can. Don’t try to mix with your hands—the caramel will burn.  Don’t worry if it doesn’t mix evenly. You can fix that in the oven.

Dump the corn and caramel onto the prepared baking sheet, spread out as much as possible, and place in the preheated oven. Check after 10-15 minutes and stir the mixture. The caramel will soften and you should be able to mix it more thoroughly. Bake 1 hour, stirring every 15 minutes. Allow the corn to cool completely and break up any large pieces before proceeding.

Melt the chocolate, either in a double boiler or in the microwave (50% power, in 30 second increments), until just melted. Using a spoon, drizzle the chocolate over the pan of caramel corn. You want big chocolate bits, not tiny drizzles. Do not stir. Let chill in the fridge for 15 minutes before packaging or eating.

Makes one large baking sheet of popcorn. It’s never enough.

Hello, hello! Sorry for my absence. I got distracted by a little birthday over here. But I am back, with our last book, and it is such a good one.

Your comments on the last post were amazing, amazing, and have given me some great ideas for things to do on the site. You guys never cease to inspire and amuse me. Thank you. I can’t wait for 2012.

And the winners of Joy for Beginners are: Lisa F, Kelly, and Houstonian Ess. Send me your addresses, please, and now for our final selection.

I had originally picked a different last book, a cookbook I will eventually tell you about, but this latecomer sidled her way to the front of the line and firmly but politely demanded my attention. And she got it.

From time to time you see a food writer, here or there, compared to MFK Fisher, the granddame of American food writing. It’s a flattering comparison, to be sure, but from here on out I am going to call it false. In my book there is only one person following in those large footsteps, and that person is Tamar Adler.

Adler’s book, An Everlasting Meal, landed on my desk recently and as soon as I cracked it open I was charmed. She writes in prose that is at once lyrical, educational, opinionated, and playful. She writes of food and the cooking of it, but also the connecting pleasure of it. This is a book about that most intimate of relationships—between our human selves and what we consume to sustain us.

It is about life and how we feed it.

An Everlasting Meal is a series of essays, inspired by MKF Fisher’s How to Cook a Wolf, with recipes woven through—both written in recipe format and also in Adler’s own poetic prose. It’s a foodie sort of book, not because it is fancy or obnoxious, but because it delights in the substance of food. Adler praises stale bread crumbs and kale stems as much as she does homemade mayonnaise. And despite a voice that is charmingly quaint, she does not stand on ceremony. She cooks and eats, plain and simple, just as you and I do.

Which brings us to one of the quotes I love in this book—though the list of loved quotes is long, I kept wanting to read whole paragraphs aloud to someone, just to share their content and cleverness.

This book…doesn’t contain “perfect” or “professional” ways to do anything, because we don’t need to be professionals to cook well, any more than we need to be doctors to treat bruises and scrapes; we don’t need to shop like chefs or cook like chefs; we need to shop and cook like people learning to cook, like what we are—people who are hungry.

And that is the heart of An Everlasting Meal: we’re human, we’re hungry, what are we going to do about it? It’s an earthy book, connected to roots and peels and how to coax a satisfying meal out of eggs and bread and the vegetables you have rattling around in the crisper. It is the opposite end of the spectrum from the recent craze for food so fussy and scientific it’s uncomfortable (at least uncomfortable to me, some people love it). This book is intelligent and rustic, as wise as ancient tradition and as fresh as new radishes sprouting in spring.

I really hope you go out and find this book. I think you’ll be delighted.

And ultimately that’s why I wanted to share this book with you. That other cookbook is wonderful, I adore it, and half of you have probably heard of it already. An Everlasting Meal is a fresh new voice, a first book, and I wanted to make sure it got your notice. Also, because I think you will love it. I know I did.

You can read some short excerpts of the book on Tamar’s website, but I really hope you track down a copy. It would be a lovely gift, but I hope it’s also a gift you give yourself. Because this book is a treat, and I don’t want you to miss out.

Thanks to Scribner, the publisher, I am able to give away one copy of the book (wish I could send you all one). Leave a comment if you’d like to be entered in the giveaway. How about you tell me the most wonderful gift you’ve ever given or received—it could be a material present or the gift of time, energy, thoughtfulness, or even simply an amazing meal.

I spent some time in commercial America today and it’s all buy-buy-buy/gift-gift-gift right now. I’m trying to remember that presents, at their heart, are more an act of faith and appreciation than anything else. Here, this is delightful, I think it will expand your world a bit, and I want you to have it.

That’s kind of how I feel about this book.

Also, I now have an entirely new perspective on boiled vegetables. Crazy!

Bragging rights: yes, those are tomatoes I grew in the photos. Kind of painful to look at them here in mid-December. But I have a few jars of them roasted and tucked away in the freezer for some day when I am hungry for summer. I suspect Tamar might approve.

There are eight nights of Chanukah and twelve days of Christmas. I’m splitting the difference and bringing you ten days of books to end the year. These are all books I’ve enjoyed, and which would make great gifts. With the publisher’s help, I’m giving away a copy of each to a lucky reader. Check back every day for the new book, and leave a comment if you’d like to win.

Thanks so much for all your fantastic comments on ambitious cooking. I’ve answered most of them, so check out the responses. Even better—some of you commented on each other’s comments (did you know you could do that?). This makes me incredibly happy. You guys are all so great, you should get to know each other better.

Winner of the Splendid Table book is GreenThyme. Please send me your address!

If you were to ask me what I’m most proud of accomplishing over the past five or ten years, you might be surprised at the answer. It’s not having written a book, or having had the courage to move to a new city and re-envision my life. The thing I am most proud of is my ever-increasing capacity for joy. It’s something I’ve worked hard to claim.

So you can imagine I might have a soft spot for a book called Joy for Beginners.

I especially have a soft spot because it is written by Erica Bauermeister, whose bestselling School of Essential Ingredients was my favorite book of 2009. I’ve written about that beautiful novel made up of linked stories and lives that all meet in an unusual cooking school. It is one of those books you can disappear into for a little while, the characters so vivid, the language so lovely, the heart and emotions of the story so true. If you haven’t read it, you’re in for a treat.

Erica is back this year, with a new novel that again threads together different lives into something that is so much more than the sum of its parts. It begins on a summer’s evening, where a group of women have gathered around a table in a Seattle backyard to celebrate their friend Kate’s successful fight against cancer.

That night the women challenge Kate to do something that scares her—to raft the Grand Canyon in an act of celebration for all she has overcome. Kate agrees on one condition: they all must do something that is perhaps a little hard and scary. They will each have a challenge, and since she didn’t get to choose hers, neither will they. Kate will choose them.

That’s the part of the story that gets me every time. I’ve done some challenging things in my life—climbed mountains, flown an airplane, learned to SCUBA dive. But the challenge my friends would pick for me (because I am fairly certain what it would be) cuts deeper. It’s what scares me the most, and also probably what I need the most.

The pleasure in this book is watching it all unfold. Six lives connected and altered by this meal and the challenge put forth. Each character’s story opens up a different world—a potter, a used book buyer, a woman who needs to make bread. They are all changed by their actions, and while this sounds like it could be a sappy book, because Erica is a skillful and nuanced writer, it’s not.

I should probably mention that, since reading School of Essential Ingredients, I’ve met Erica and we’ve become friends (she is not sappy in the least). But I fell in love with her writing first. She has a deft way of probing into the sweetness and also the messiness and sometimes struggle of the human experience, joys and sorrows both, and bringing it all to light in prose so lovely it’s simply a treat to read.

This is a book to give to your friends, your mother, your auntie or daughter. It is moving, heart-bruising in places, encouraging and warm. Erica told me that several of the people who worked on the book—her publicist, agent’s assistant, and editor’s assistant—ended up leaving their jobs after reading it to go do something more fulfilling.

It’s the sort of book that could do that to you, rattle things around inside and make you think. After reading it my mother and I challenged each other to each do a scary thing the other had picked (and for the record, my mother did not pick the thing my friends would have).

When I think of Erica’s writing I always think of New Year’s. It was New Year’s Day 2009 when I curled up with her first book and read it in one sitting. I think Joy for Beginners would be the perfect book to read going into 2012.

Though if you end up quitting your job or jumping out of an airplane, or moving to the South of France to learn how to make cheese, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Because Erica’s publisher, Putnam, is super generous, they’ve offered THREE copies of the book to give away. Leave a comment if you want to be entered. And if you’d like to share some challenge you’ve accomplished that was scary—or one you think you ought to take on (even scarier!), I would love to hear. Your comments this week and last have been an utter delight. Thanks so much.

DISCLAIMER: Because of the vagaries of the postal system, and because these books are being sent from the publisher, I cannot guarantee their arrival time. Please take this into consideration (I’d hate to disappoint anyone in their holiday gifting plans). Also—and it pains me to say this—I’m going to have to restrict this to North American postal addresses only, as I’ve had problems with overseas deliveries. I’m very sorry for this, and appreciate your understanding.

There are eight nights of Chanukah and twelve days of Christmas. I’m splitting the difference and bringing you ten days of books to end the year. These are all books I’ve enjoyed, and which would make great gifts. With the publisher’s help, I’m giving away a copy of each to a lucky reader. Check back every day for the new book, and leave a comment if you’d like to win.

Winner of the Homesick Texan Cookbook is Vicki (commenter #45). Send me your address, Vicki!

Those of you who have been reading the site awhile know how I feel about Lynne Rosetto Kasper, the host and personality behind The Splendid Table radio show. I want her to live down the street from me, so I can call her for recipe advice and borrow cookware (my imaginary neighborhood is a very cool place to be). Instead I listen to her on the radio while I cook and pretend she’s my talented culinary auntie. Her laugh alone makes me happy.

I was happier still to get a chance to meet her, and her wonderful work partner and show producer Sally Swift, when they were on book tour recently. I helped out with the event at The Book Larder, Seattle’s new cookbook bookstore, and got to spend some time chatting with Lynne and Sally and hearing them laugh, a lot.

It’s always a little funny meeting someone you’ve admired from afar, but in this case the admiration is well warranted. Both Lynne and Sally are delightful, warm, and funny, and the book they’ve put together is a real treat. Their latest is: The Splendid Table’s How to Eat Weekends.

This book came as a natural outgrowth of their first book, How to Eat Supper.They needed a place to put the longer recipes, the things you want to make when you have more time and resources. Things like Vietnamese Caramelized Catfish Sand Pot (yum) and Yucatan Pork in Banana Leaves, and Charred Lamb with Smoked Romesco. There are tempting sides to go along with these dishes as well, like West Indies Green Beans, Gingered Puree of Winter Roots, and Orange Onion Salad with Warmed Corriander Oil. These are recipes that get a food-lover’s brain churning.

Perhaps the most unusual part of the book is that it mirrors the radio show—chock full of information and trivia and quotes and inspiration (if you’re a fan of the show you will hear Lynne’s voice in your head as you read). This is a book that will take some digesting—there’s so much there, all beautifully designed. You could probably spend the coming year immersed and experimenting, and have a grand time doing so.

This would be an excellent gift for the true food lover and adventurous cook. The recipes range widely around the world, from Europe to Asia to the Americas and beyond. There are master broths, homemade pastas, and recipes like Grilled Lettuces with Pine Nut–Parmigiano Cream and the 65° Egg.

See what I mean? It’s a cookbook that gets you thinking. And craving. It’s dangerous late night reading—you might find yourself heading to the kitchen.

Thanks to the publisher, Clarkson-Potter, I am able to give away one copy of the book. Let’s have some fun with this. Leave a comment telling me the most impressive or ambitious thing you’ve ever cooked or that you want to cook (for me: croquembouche and panforte). This is a book for those who love food and having fun with their dinner. Let’s celebrate that.

As the final quote from the book says:
“If you aren’t up for a little magic now and then, you shouldn’t waste your time cooking.”
—Colette

DISCLAIMER: Because of the vagaries of the postal system, and because these books are being sent from the publisher, I cannot guarantee their arrival time. Please take this into consideration (I’d hate to disappoint anyone in their holiday gifting plans). Also—and it pains me to say this—I’m going to have to restrict this to North American postal addresses only, as I’ve had problems with overseas deliveries. I’m very sorry for this, and appreciate your understanding.

You guys are good—so very, very good. Have I told you this lately? It’s true. I have the best readers in all Cyberdom. In addition to your great comments, and the sweet and funny emails you sometimes send me (thank you, thank you), when I asked you to tell me about your magical moments—those meals and experiences that stick with you, that leave life feeling glowy and gorgeous—you wrote back stories that made my heart swell. You are so very good.

We’ve got more books to give away, but I just had to share some of your stories with you. Because they are beautiful, because they are real, because they are life—what we strive for, what we cherish, what makes it all worthwhile.

Thanks to all of you, and especially to those who have allowed me to share their stories here. I think you will agree with me that you guys are pretty amazing. Thanks for making this all worthwhile for me. I’ll be back later in the day with another book, and the winner of The Homesick Texan Cookbook.

Until then, enjoy the magic. I’ve added some photos of my moments, the ones that stay with me.

Not long after my husband and I were married, his Nonna (Italian for grandmother) taught me how to make gnocchi. Only the gnocchi, not the sauce. My husband had learned to make the sauce years earlier. We would always have to make this dish together. Making the potato dumplings is time consuming and best accomplished by everyone working together. One recent Valentine’s day, we taught our daughter and her boyfriend to make gnocchi. Passing on this family tradition, working and laughing together while we all made a meal, and remembering Nonna made this meal magic.
—Cindy

For me, magic happens anytime I’m opening up something I’ve canned to share with some friends: pickles at a BBQ, or having someone stop by and opening up a jar of jam for some toast and tea. That’s about as awesome a food moment as I can think of.
—Knox

I’m still new enough at cooking that every time something I make works feels like magic. I still expect everything to turn out like a little kid’s kitchen experiment, and when it doesn’t, it’s the most awesome feeling ever.
—Emily

One of the most memorable meals I have ever had was when my 14 year old son and my two daughters who were 12 and 10 at the time, cooked us an anniversary dinner. My son found a recipe for lemon chicken and he worked very hard to make it turn out delicious. We also had a salad, potatoes, and green beans. My husband and I were floored when we walked into the dining room. The table was beautifully set, there were candles lit, it was so touching. They had all worked so hard, cooking and serving us. For dessert, there was chocolate cake. After they served us our cake, my son tuned out the light and we were left with beautiful candlelight. I felt so loved. This was many years ago, but every anniversary, I remember that dinner, and know how lucky I still am to be loved so much by my children.
—Patricia

I lived with my Grandpa during college, and every Sunday morning breakfast spent with him was magic. Each time I learned just a little bit more about him and his life, about my grandma, etc…it was that special time when he opened up to me. He waited until he was 86 to tell me he had been blessed by the Pope! Now that he’s passed away, I am so very grateful for those breakfasts.
—Andrea

One of my magic food memories happened this August. My best friend and I took a road trip to my Mother’s house in Michigan for a peach-canning lesson. We laughed and peeled and sliced away the day and I have never enjoyed the taste of peaches more than these batches.
—Elizabeth

A few years ago my husband and I took over his family’s New Year’s Eve party. It was usually his father, sister, and him – plus crab legs. We planned a big menu of different things – some favorites, some new, invited his mother and her boyfriend and my husband’s best friend and new wife. It was wonderful to get everyone in the same place together, and to make food for these people we love so much. It finally felt like we were all a family.
—Amy

Our first child is almost two and we are letting him help in the kitchen whenever possible – watching his face as he learns something new, or remembers something he already knows is magic. The simple act of pouring flour without spilling it is magical. And the look on his face when he takes his first bite and say “ummMMMMmmmm” is truly magical.
—Emily

Grandma spreads the whitest of linen over the tables on the sun porch and smoothes the nests of wrinkles until they lay flat. She sets the rolling pin, flour canister and jelly jar within reach. Then she dons her apron and worries the wispy gray strands on the nape of her neck into the black hairnet.
 “Guardi,” she says.

Grandma makes a “well” of flour in the center of a large wooden board and, in the middle, cracks the eggs. She beats the eggs ever so gently, blending the inside wall of flour as she goes. Soon the dough is ready, the creamy ricotta is drained. The scent of freshly chopped mint and grated nutmeg hangs in the air. Grandma moves in and out of the kitchen, gathering a few utensils, a fork for crimping and a bowl of water. It is ravioli day.

I watch as Grandma smooths the dough into a circle, comic blue veins dancing across her hands. With pronounced thrusts of the rolling pin, she creates an unplowed field, a large thin rectangle of dough ready to receive the ricotta mixture. Her deft movements leave rows of milky mounds which she skillfully covers with a fold of the dough. With brisk moves of the knife, she cuts the mounds apart. As she works, she hums and Caruso croons, the faint echo of his wedding canzone coming from the Victrola. Then it is my turn.

My job is to seal and crimp. Grandma watches as I invert the jelly jar over each mound and twist it a few half turns. Then I press the tines of the fork in the edges all the way around until the ravioli is made fast. We work together like that for hours, sealed in quiet. Washed in velvet light, the porch cools as the late day sun rests its face on the windowsill. The afternoon’s work lay around us, each ravioli the size of a mouse’s ear.

I loved being on the sun porch with Grandma. I worked at her elbow, I pressed against her side, I leaned into her thigh. The shape of her lay like a promise between us. I don’t recall if we talked much during those long afternoons. All I remember is that she hugged me tight and called me “Bella”.
—Toni

Tonight. Daughter home after months away. Her dad went crabbing on this wintry northwest day. Plenty of Dungeness now cooling. Baguette from the local bakery on the way home from a sunset walk. There’ll just be mayo & pepper added. Moon’s nearly full and the fire is raging. Yeah.
—Jane

My most magical moment ever took place 2 months after my daughter was born. She was our first baby, who arrived prematurely after a difficult pregnancy and had numerous health-related issues, and we were nervous wrecks as first-time parents. We enlisted an army of helpers, including close family and friends to help shuttle the baby to and from doctor visits, and spend time in our home just helping us out. We didn’t sleep much, worried constantly, and the house felt very crowded and stressful at all hours of the day and night.

My daughter was a winter baby and we finally spent the first night alone with our child as a newly formed family of three TWO months after her birth at the first snow, when our family couldn’t get to us due to the poor driving conditions. I will never forget waking up after my first solid night’s sleep, feeling slightly bewildered that there was no shrieking baby and the entire world was silent. I came downstairs to the kitchen, saw fresh snow on the ground (which explained that perfect stillness), and turned the corner into the kitchen where my husband had propped the baby onto the kitchen counter and was rolling out a batch of homemade oatmeal scones. He had already set out a pot of hot coffee and an assortment of jams and butters and nutella on the table and was singing silly songs to our calm (!!!) baby while covered in flour and oats.

This was the first morning that I truly believed we could do it. We could really be the parents we wanted to be if we just had a tiny bit of faith in ourselves. The scones were the best thing I ever tasted, served with hot coffee and side of true inner peacefulness. Later that day, we bundled our tiny infant and took our rambunctious boxer pup outside to romp around in the snow. Within days, we slowly and respectfully cut back on all of our “help” and settled into our new family life. That breakfast was a true turning point of my life, and such a magical moment.
—Neena

The magical moments in my life now happen each evening at sunset, when I stop, take a few minutes to simply admire nature’s beauty, and watch the sun sink behind the Marin County hills. The sky is painted with color – sometimes wild, fauve colors, sometimes soft pastels, sometimes it just sets in a clear sky, outlining the black of the hills with bright gold. I love that quiet time just before (or during) dinner prep, when I lay down my book or my knife and just look.
—Zoomie

As I get older I find magical moments happen a lot – you just have to be open to them.
—Charlotte

Thanks to all of you: for writing, for reading, for being there. Here’s to the magic that makes it all worthwhile.

There are eight nights of Chanukah and twelve days of Christmas. I’m splitting the difference and bringing you ten days of books to end the year. These are all books I’ve enjoyed, and which would make great gifts. With the publisher’s help, I’m giving away a copy of each to a lucky reader. Check back every day for the new book, and leave a comment if you’d like to win.

Happy Monday, folks. I hope you had a good weekend. We’re six books down on the giveaway, four more to go, and today I have a treat for you. A Texas-sized treat. But first, a bit of business: the winner of the Plenty cookbook is lesliemikkelson. Thanks for all the enthusiasm. I wish I could send you all copies. I really do.

I’m personally quite pleased and excited about The Homesick Texan Cookbook. I’ve known of Lisa Fain since the early days of her blog. Five years ago she posted a comment on something I had written for Chow.com and I was taken by the name, Homesick Texan. How cute.

Lisa is the real deal—a seventh-generation Texan moved to New York who missed the food of her family and home. When she couldn’t find the flavors she was looking for in local restaurants, she went into the kitchen to recreate them on her own. Happily, we are the lucky beneficiaries.

Over the last five years I’ve watched Lisa’s site grow with tempting recipes and gorgeous photos. I’ve made her green sauce, and her crazy good Tex-Mex squash casserole. I got to meet Lisa at the first BlogHer Food conference, where we skipped one of the conference sessions to hang out and chat. When I got a copy of her cookbook, all shiny and colorful, I cheered.

I’m not the only one cheering for Lisa’s Homesick Texan cookbook these days. It was picked as one of the ten best cookbooks of 2011 by Amazon and Epicurious, and one of the notable cookbooks of the year by (drumroll please) the New York Times. I think you’re going to like this one. Not only are the recipes tempting, the photography is a treat, as is the vicarious road trip through the wide open Texan plains and vivid food culture.

This would be a great gift for a food lover, an avid cook, or any homesick Texans you might have in your life. Leave a comment if you’d like to win. Here’s to canitas and migas and chipotle pimento cheese. The table is an awfully good place to be a Texan.

Here’s a gratuitous extra photo, because I am in love with Lisa’s grandmother’s hands. Can you imagine the meals those hands have prepared? All photos by Lisa Fain/Homesick Texan.

DISCLAIMER: Because of the vagaries of the postal system, and because these books are being sent from the publisher, I cannot guarantee their arrival time. Please take this into consideration (I’d hate to disappoint anyone in their holiday gifting plans). Also—and it pains me to say this—I’m going to have to restrict this to North American postal addresses only, as I’ve had problems with overseas deliveries. I’m very sorry for this, and appreciate your understanding.

There are eight days of Chanukah and twelve days of Christmas. I’m splitting the difference and bringing you ten days of books to end the year. These are all books I’ve enjoyed, and which would make great gifts. With the publisher’s help, I’m giving away a copy of each to a lucky reader. Check back every day for the new book, and leave a comment if you’d like to win.

The winner of At the Kitchen Table is janeburtonbell. Congratulations—and thanks everyone for your gorgeous stories. I so loved reading them. Please send me your address, Jane.

Oh people, we are ending the week on a high note, with one of my hands down favorite cookbooks in a long time: Plenty, by Yotam Ottolenghi.

Have you heard of Ottolenghi? I imagine you have if you’re British, probably if you’re really into food as well. Jerusalem-born Yotam Ottolenghi is the force behind a series of delis and the restaurant Nopi in London. He’s also the author of two cookbooks: Ottolenghi, and the newest book, Plenty.

Oh, Plenty. You might just be the cookbook of my dreams.

I love Ottolenghi’s food, unabashedly. Last summer I went to a barbeque and sampled a tableful of sides and salads. All my favorites, the hostess told me later, were Ottolenghi recipes. Last year I hosted a Christmas Eve dinner party where all the dishes were Ottolenghi’s, from his recipe column in the Guardian. I couldn’t have been happier when Chronicle Books issued Plenty here in the US.

This food is so appealing to me—full of flavors, colors, textures. This is casual elegance, beautiful produce made even better. This past week the New York Times ran an article in which Ottolenghi says of his influences, “I’m happy to draw on anything from the Mediterranean and east, all the places that have a lot of sun and use spices extensively.”

Especially in the winter, but also in the summer when the produce is lush and plenty, this is the food I want to eat. All the time. Some have taken issue with the recipes in the book, but I love it for combinations I hadn’t considered, colorful inspiration, food for thought as well as the table. Jules, of Stone Soup, has a great post on all the things she learned from reading Plenty.

This book would be a great gift for anyone who loves food, color, flavor. Honestly, I think everyone needs this book (I’ve gifted a few copies already). Though the book is not vegetarian, it’s very vege-friendly. Vegetable-centric, in fact.

I really can’t say enough good things about this book. I think everyone should have a copy.

Leave a comment. Hopefully one can be yours. And check out this video of Ottolenghi. You might end up liking him as much as I do.

DISCLAIMER: Because of the vagaries of the postal system, and because these books are being sent from the publisher, I cannot guarantee their arrival time. Please take this into consideration (I’d hate to disappoint anyone in their holiday gifting plans). Also—and it pains me to say this—I’m going to have to restrict this to North American postal addresses only, as I’ve had problems with overseas deliveries. I’m very sorry for this, and appreciate your understanding.

Winner of The Urban Farmer Handbook is Anne Marie (La Cuoca Ciccia). I loved everyone’s enthusiasm for gardening! Send me your address, Anne Marie. Here is today’s offering:

When I was at Quillisascut Farm School this summer, not only did I meet Joshua McNichols (author of yesterday’s Urban Farm Handbook), I also met Seattle chef and writer Greg Atkinson.

I had known of Greg already, from his numerous cookbooks, his articles in The Seattle Times, and the food stories he tells on our NPR affiliate station, KUOW. I was glad he was participating in our workshop, I quite like his writing.

Though I admit I have a bit of resentment for those lucky people who are gifted and talented in two fields. It’s hard enough to be a writer. Being a good writer and a good chef doesn’t seem fair.

In Greg’s case, he’s a triple threat—skilled chef, talented writer, and the sort of person who thinks and feels on a deep level. When all that comes together on the page, it’s quite a combination. The last morning of our workshop we read our final essays, sitting at the long kitchen table, and I held my face in my hands, weeping at the piece Greg had written.

Greg’s most recently released book is At The Kitchen Table: The Craft of Cooking at Home. It’s a collection of essays that connect food to community and looks at who we are and how we feed each other. The meals may take place at the kitchen table, on a winter picnic, or on the most glorious of summer days on an island surrounded by friends. This book is essentially about those moments, the memories that make it all worthwhile.

And because Greg is a talented chef, there are recipes as well—more than seventy, linked by theme to the stories they accompany.

This book would be a fantastic gift for anyone who loves thoughtful writing and recipes that are appealing and accessible. I don’t think you need to consider yourself a foodie to connect with Greg’s writing. We all eat, we all want the moments that feed our heart. Here is inspiration for both.

An added bonus: the small size of this book means it might just fit in a Christmas stocking.

Leave a comment if you’d like to be entered in the giveaway, and let’s do something a little different this time. In the comments, can you tell us about a special meal when everything came together and it felt like magic? Simple or fancy, those are the moments we’re after.

The picture at the top of the post is my magic moment—a blackberry pie, a few friends and nieces, hula hoops, and an evening in the park with liquid sunlight. Just yesterday one of the nicelets asked if we could have more dessert picnics next summer. These are the moments. Greg knows how to capture them.

Leave a comment. Winner announced tomorrow.

You can read more about Greg Atkinson on his website, West Coast Cooking (along with awesome iced molasses cookie recipe, and the letter he wrote at Quillisascut that made me cry).

DISCLAIMER: Because of the vagaries of the postal system, and because these books are being sent from the publisher, I cannot guarantee their arrival time. Please take this into consideration (I’d hate to disappoint anyone in their holiday gifting plans). Also—and it pains me to say this—I’m going to have to restrict this to North American postal addresses only, as I’ve had problems with overseas deliveries. I’m very sorry for this, and appreciate your understanding.