My friends Molly and Phil have a faux-Thanksgiving every year at their home in Houston. About a dozen of us gather for this potluck affair the weekend before that wonderful Thursday, and each of us brings a dish or two, perhaps more than that, depending on how inspired we feel. I’ve never hosted on Thanksgiving day, so it’s nice to feel like I can take part in the best meal of the year—even if it comes a few days early.

What I love about Thanksgiving is that even if the guest list changes and the potluck dishes are a little different, a variation on the same flavors always comes out: the salty taste of stock and celery in stuffing; the rich taste of gravy over turkey and smooth creamy potatoes; the tart, sweet bites of cranberry chutney coupled with some version of roasted, creamed or spiced vegetable.

Since the bird gets done on Molly’s end, us guests have the opportunity to focus on the side dishes that make the table so colorful. I make the same thing every year: cranberry chutney, jalapeño cornbread and creamed spinach. I love how a smear of tangy chutney can cut the richness of the meal, perking it up a bit, too. I love the taste of cheddar cheese baked into bread, and I think I’ll keep these spicy cornbread muffins even when we move away from Texas. Finally, creamed spinach is my ultimate favorite. I would eat that for breakfast, lunch and dinner if I could. The taste of caramelized onions deep inside and the slight hint of nutmeg in cream sauce make this dish totally unforgettable.

The chutney recipe comes from a family tradition, passed down from my Grandmother’s kitchen. She found it in one of those Pillsbury advertisements, an entire little booklet of recipes dedicated to promoting the brand. The little palimpsest is nearly 50 years old, covered with splashes and encrusted crumbs spanning the decades. (Watch me make this for Christmas, too…) The cornbread was a more recent discovery for me, and I’ve made several batches since coming to Houston. I love the combination of sweet, crispy corn meal with sharp cheddar and a little bit of jalapeño kick. The recipe I used this year (from my last ever Gourmet) calls for real corn kernels, which lent a welcome texture to the golden bread.

And finally, my favorite, creamed spinach. This recipe comes from none other than the goddess of easy, elegant recipes, Ina Garten. I’m sure there are some foodies out there who assume that because her recipes are so straightforward, they’re not heavy on the culinary clout. Well I’m here to tell you that this is absolute malarkey, and that anybody who doesn’t have her books is missing out. I’ve never had a bum recipe from the Barefoot Contessa—which is more than I can say about virtually any other source out there. This creamed spinach recipe—actually a spinach gratin—comes from her book Parties, and is a no-fail crowd pleaser.

So that, friends, would be my contribution if you invited me over for a communally cooked Thanksgiving meal. I love the stuffing, the potatoes, the turkey and all that, but this trio of dishes is my idea of sides at their most complimentary. All told, whipping these up can be done in less than 2 hours, leaving you plenty of time to bake a pie… or roast a turkey… or, depending on your responsibilities, take a pre-dinner nap.

Cranberry Chutney

½ c apricot preserves
½ c firmly packed brown sugar
¼ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp ginger
¼ tsp cloves
12 oz bag of fresh cranberries (thawed if frozen)
2 medium pears, peeled and cubed
1 medium apple, peeled and cubed
½ c raisins
½ c coarsely chopped, toasted walnuts

Combine the preserves, sugar and spices in a medium saucepan.

Bring mixture to a boil and cook until sugar dissolves, stirring occasionally.

Add cranberries, pear, apple and raisins and cook over medium hear for 25 minutes, or until mixture is thick and cranberries have all popped. (Stir occasionally.)

Take chutney off the heat and stir in walnuts. Cool slightly and store in glass jars, up to 3 weeks.

Cheddar and Jalapeño Corn Muffins

Nonstick cooking spray
5 T unsalted butter, melted and cooled
2 c cornmeal—preferably stone ground
1 t salt
1 t baking powder
½ t baking soda
¾ c corn (thawed if frozen)
1 ¼ c well-shaken buttermilk
1 large egg
1 ¾ c grated, sharp Cheddar, plus ¼ c for garnish
1 jalapeño, finely chopped, with seeds

Preheat oven to 425 degrees, with rack in the middle. Coat muffin cups with spray.

Whisk together cornmeal, salt, baking powder and baking soda in a large bowl.

Whisk together corn, jalapeño, buttermilk, egg and melted butter in another bowl, then stir into flour mixture until just combined. Add 1 ¾ c cheese.

Divide batter among muffin cups and sprinkle with remaining cheese. Bake until puffed and golden, about 20 minutes.

Creamed Spinach (or Spinach Gratin)

4 T unsalted butter
4 c chopped, yellow onion (2 large)
¼ c flour
¼ t grated nutmeg
1 c heavy cream
2 c whole milk
3 lb frozen spinach, defrosted and chopped (5 10oz bags)
1 c freshly grated Parmesan cheese (for simple creamed spinach, only ½ c is needed)
1 T kosher salt
½ t freshly ground black pepper
½ c grated Gruyere cheese (for gratin only)

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
(Only if making gratin—you will not need the stove for creamed spinach.)

Melt butter in a heavy bottomed sauté pan over medium heat. Add onions and sauté until translucent, about 15 minutes.

Add the flour and nutmeg and stir constantly for another 2 minutes.

Add cream and milk and cook until thickened, about 10 minutes.

Extract as much liquid as possible from the spinach (I do this by cutting a hole in the side of the package and squeezing it over the sink) and add spinach to the sauce.

Add ½ c of the Parmesan cheese and mix well, seasoning with salt and pepper.

To make gratin: Transfer spinach to a baking dish and sprinkle the remaining ½ cup Parmesan and the Gruyere on top. Bake for 20 minutes until hot and bubbly.

Anyway, it was an extraordinary day indeed, a little bit misty—at times downright wet—but full of fall colors and rooms with many happy friends. And despite how terrified I’d been of our dance, Christopher actually pulled it off gallantly, lifting and twisting me, train, veil and all. And then, when it was all finished, my husband and I flew to California and did what we most love, and what we hope to do for the rest of our lives: we hiked, we slept, we ate and we drank—lots and lots of wine.

The trip was planned around those things, really. We love to climb mountains (or at the very least large hills) and we haven’t been able to do much of that since moving to a place as flat as a slab of glass. Nor were we able to sleep much before the actually nuptials, or get as full or drunk as we pleased… well at least I couldn’t, with the prospect of a white gown both exciting me and weighing mightily on my conscience.

And then all of a sudden, in just one short day, all of those pressures were lifted and there were just the two of us, flying high, due West. We spent our first night of honeymooning in San Francisco, where we rented a very cheesy convertible and wound ourselves down CA 1 to Big Sur. A few days later, we wound ourselves back up to St. Helena—Napa’s more dignified cousin—where we stayed for a few days. Our last weekend was spent trudging up San Francisco hills again, and now here we are, back in Houston, nestled among many unopened boxes full of very nice things from very kind folks. Our kitchen will be a much grander place from now on.

In any event, the trip was primarily focused around food and drink: we ate at places too grand and wonderful to name, and we drank at as many vineyards as we could drive to without putting anybody at risk. A few places were real standouts though, especially those that sold bread or grew their own produce… dough and dirt really do have my heart.
Today, on this first day I’d like to pay homage to a little hipster haven called Tartine—600 Guerro St., San Francisco. Packed though it may have been with skinny jeans and canines-as-accessories, the apple tart we had was well worth the hour we waited to order. The fruit was sliced paper thin and laid over a crust that was expertly layered with crispy, sweet and soft dough, which cradled the slightly caramelized fruit. The sandwiches were something to marvel at as well: crunchy, thick crusts with soft, chewy centers, slightly crisped, heavily buttered and pressed generously with cheese. Best of all, we were given the letter “M” to identify our order… the first initial of my brand new name.

In fact, just last week, Mom and I found some spectacular Maine blueberries on a trip up north, and I thought I would share this recipe with you in case you happen upon a similar trove. Perhaps you have some tenacious bushes in your backyard. Maybe a lucky farmer at the market. Maybe even, you’re climbing to the high end of the Appalachian trail, and will find some of these along your route. If so, I can confidently recommend the following recipe as a worthy blueberry send-off.

Inspiration for this came three years back, when Christopher and I went blueberry picking in Connecticut and came home with 5 fecund bags. We made a lot of pancakes, and a lot of muffins. We also made a buckle—his favorite childhood dessert. And because his timing is generally perfect, it has become something of a tradition that every August, for his birthday, another one gets made.

This year’s rendition came alongside a meal at his request: au gratin potatoes with caramelized onion and Poblano peppers, Ribeye with béarnaise sauce and sautéed spinach with shallots. I spent a nice afternoon in the kitchen, but after all of that whisking of butter and eggs for the béarnaise; the grilling of peppers and caramelizing of onion for the gratin and the searing of a rather large hunk of meat in a rather intimidating pad of butter, I was happy to dip my spoon into a fluffy yellow batter and fold in some perfect, little bluettes—the final round of the season.

Let me say one thing for this powerhouse ‘buckle:’ it’s not really a buckle. It’s more of a cake-crumble, which I like because it keeps the berries suspended and contained in its batter, rather than leaving them to spill out each time you lift a piece of dough from the top. That is not a bad thing, mind you: I love oozy blueberries, barely clinging to the times of my fork in their syrupy, deflated way. But I also like them a little bit pert—sweet, surprising bursts that pop out of a bite of dough.

On top of that, cobblers and traditional buckles are hard to serve for breakfast. It can be done, but you will most definitely look like you are eating last night’s dessert in the morning hours. This rendition, however, hints of a rustic loaf—especially if you cut it into squares instead of the traditional cake-angle. It’s amazing what presentation can do for your entire perception of a meal.

Anyway, if you can do this, do it now. If not, wait for next summer, or substitute the blueberries for something that remains in season… I hear there are some exquisite huckleberries in Wyoming these days. Blackberries, another personal favorite, are still very much gracing their needly bushes.

Blueberry Buckle Cake

Adapted from Gourmet

Serves 6-8

For the Top

1/4 cup soft, unsalted butter, softened

1/2 cup raw sugar

1/3 cup flour (whole wheat or all purpose)

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp nutmeg

For the Batter:

3/4 cup soft, unsalted butter, softened

3/4 cup raw sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 teaspoon double-acting baking powder

1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour (or 1 c all-purpose; 1/3 c whole wheat) plus 1 tbsp

1/2 teaspoon salt

3 large eggs

4 cups blueberries, clean and stemless

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and butter a round 10″ x 2″ cake pan.

Make the topping:

Blend butter, sugar, flour cinnamon and nutmeg until incorporated and pearl-sized balls form.

Cover and store in the refrigerator while preparing batter.

Make the batter:

Toss blueberries with 1 tbsp flour, set aside.

Cream together butter and sugar in a medium bowl with an electric mixer. Add vanilla.

In another bowl, stir together baking powder, flour and salt.

Beat flour mixture into butter mixture alternating with the eggs, one at a time.

Pour batter into cake pan and bake from 40-45 minutes, or until toothpick inserted into center of cake comes out clean and the topping is golden.