It might be the only old-fashioned thing about me: the enormous satisfaction I derive from a packed larder, from knowing that I'm putting up summer's bounty, making provisions for the coming winter. It feels ancient. It feels good.
October may be my favorite month because it is full of this: it's a million degrees out and I'm inside, in the middle of the day, over a hot stove with the oven blasting.
It just makes me so happy, deeply happy, to lose myself in these simple tasks -- the baking, making and saving.
And eating. Taking the time to really taste, to savor everything.