Ch ch ch ch...

It's that time of year, no matter when or where, it happens every fall. Actually, the leaves have pretty much finished doing that and the sun has returned. My sleep patterns are normal again(whatever that means) and I have and am awaiting a slew of new cookbooks to drool over. Family is in town next week, cooking friends in Canada the following, catching up is always good. And, there is a cute little pile of treasures on my coffee table to enjoy with all the above.

The culatello was achingly amazing and the small chunk I shared rapidly consumed. There are still four cryovaced pieces sitting in the fridge to be doled out accordingly. I felt like a criminal cutting this

into smaller pieces for preservation reasons. It had to be done. There is no way that it could possibly be afforded the respect it deserves and eaten in one sitting as it arrived in this country. Not unless I invited everyone I know. The taste? Talk about terroir; fog, funk, fermentation, it is all there. Enough about this topic? I'm not sure about that yet.

We are gearing up for that most American of holidays at the place as well as thinking about how to revamp the entire department after this bit of chaos is over. There is not a lot that can be said yet since the field is wide open. Let's just start with the beauty of change.