​The turkey is in the oven, cooking away for a 12:30 departure to my niece’s house a half hour away. For the past ten or so years, this has been our contribution to the feast.
    Roasting a turkey isn’t really difficult but this year I have kept it especially simple by following two simple steps.
       1. I purchased a free-range fresh turkey from Deborah’s Natural Gourmet in West Concord. This turkey was ready for the oven the minute I took the wrapping off. It really didn’t need to be rinsed (but I did); not a feather, film of wax, or chuck of fat needed to be removed. Just wipe it dry, add salt, pepper and a cover of oil, and stuff it.
      2. I bought Pepperidge Farm Herb Seasoned Classic Stuffing and followed the recipe: sauté celery and onion in butter, add chicken broth and mix.
     I’m particularly content with these preparations. The turkey won’t give off excess fat; it will be carved with ease and be tender and yummy. The stuffing is what my mom used to prepare and everyone loved it.
    As I sit here smelling the first fruits of this Thanksgiving contribution, I feel content. Although I want my life to be simple, it isn’t easy to pull it
off. But this morning I did it. This morning I am very grateful that I have kept it simple.

(In case you catch this early, I'll be posting progress as the day goes on. 

Dear General Mills,
     I have been a Wheaties fan all my life, from the time I started eating solid foods to now, 78 years later. The moment I was allowed to pour my own cereal, I would add sliced banana and top it all with dark brown sugar--lots of it. When I was in Italy for my junior year of college, my Uncle Don sent me a box. A dish a day continues to be part of my daily menu, although this ‘breakfast of champions’ is now often my ‘lunch of champions.’
     Whenever I feel like a champion I give credit to those brown flakes inside the orange box. I remember when the first champion appeared, and since then the featured champion has continued to stand tall and encourage me on. I did notice, however, when you, General Mills, added more sugar to the recipe, but I’ve always had faith that I could count on that recognizable Wheaties box and all that was in it.
I am writing you in desperation, however, because I fear you are undermining my days as a champion, and I must admit that as I age I need all the help I can muster to keep winning. Here’s my story.
     Four days ago I went to buy Wheaties at my local supermarket. The little space, way up high, where I always find them, was vacant. “Not to worry,” I told myself, “you always have a couple of boxes in the pantry.”
     Two days later I was back at the store, this time shopping for myself and a friend in her 90s who has also been a Wheaties fan for her entire life. The space was still vacant so I asked the manager when they would be coming in. Now, General Mills, normally I wouldn’t be telling you this, butsince the reason is so incredible (as in not to be believed), I pass it on in case you want to clean up the mill in any way.
Here’s what I was told. I paraphrase: The company is changing the packaging, and they don’t want to have the old and new packaging together on the same shelf. So, until they can get all the orange boxes of champions off the shelves of grocery stores all over the country, and, out of all their warehouses, they will not be supplying Wheaties to any store. This will take at least a couple of months.
     I can’t believe that Wheaties are going to disappear until way into the fall. It makes me wonder about the future of the breakfast of champions. It makes me wonder if the only champions left are old folks (hmm, is this ageism creeping in). It makes me wonder if you, General Mills, have given up on champions. I figure you are older than me. I bet you love Wheaties. If you wait too long to get those boxes back on our shelves, we’ll all be dead.
     As I get older, my needs are simple. What if my dying wish is to have a dish of Wheaties, topped with banana and dark brown sugar? How are you going to feel about that?
                                        Your Wheaties friend,
​                                        Bobbi Fisher

     Can we say that cooking to eat healthy is simple? As with many questions, the answer is ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Lately I’ve been eliminating carbs (pasta, potatoes and rice) from our evening meal and cooking up vegetables to serve in their place. Now, let me tell you that until recently I would admit that I didn’t like vegetables. Not very PC, but at least truthful. I grew up with Birds-eye frozen green beans, lima beans and peas, always over-cooked.
     Nowadays I’m into roasting vegetables. Here’s my simple recipe: cut them up, add olive oil and salt, and put the Pyrex pan into a 350 degree oven for thirty. That’s the simple version.
     Check out Comfort Food under the “Cottage Companions” section of this blog for details for Cauliflower and Carrots.

Last Tuesday I volunteered at the food pantry at Open Table in Maynard. Out of my bubble I popped, or more accurately said, my bubble expanded. I worked the afternoon shift, set apart for the elderly and Asian population. Many arrived in vans from their community housing, a few came on their own. The times were scheduled to avoid crowding.
My job was to help individuals select the produce and canned goods they needed. Some wanted to be certain they weren’t taking more then their allotted share, others needed help with that. Many just wanted to chat about their selections as they walked along with their carts.
      I was reminded of shopping with my mom. As she leaned on the cart for support and balance, we’d discuss the ripeness of tomatoes or size of melons. Yes, it was about helping, but more importantly, about companionship and being together.
      There's got to be a food pantry near you. Find it and help out.

     What an easy travel day, or shall I say days. My flight was on schedule, as was the bus to Oban and the ferry-bus-ferry to Iona.
     It was sunny and hot, which suited me fine for my 24 hours in Oban and first afternoon on Iona. I was on a seafood diet: lunch of scallops along the quay and a dinner of fish and chips in Oban, and a smoked salmon sandwich to take on my travels here. Last night I went off the diet and had roast pork.
Each year on Iona I renew my practice to be present to the moment. I both succeed and fail, but it’s all quite random: I remember, or I don’t. This year feels different, however, because I’ve adopted a mantra for the trip: be present. On the bus ride across Mull I did nothing but look: the amazing scenery became the foreground of my existence.

     Here I am, writing at one of my favorite cafes in Florence. I like the extra large cup of cappuccino at this place. Maybe it’s the morning coffee that compels me to return to this city. Maybe it’s that simple. It has never occurred to me to spend two weeks in Boston. No, it’s the morning rhythm of a walk across the Ponte Vecchio for my first cup, and then my second cup with brioche as I write. But coffee isn’t the only reason I have returned; there’s also the food and wine (with no preservatives). Plus friends to visit; friends as in churches, paintings, and sculptures.
     Florence exudes peace, calm and optimism, something I didn’t feel in Rome. In this little self-contained city people are enjoying the moment, which makes it easy to send love to everyone I pass. After all, I believe love begets love and we reap what we sow. So along with the coffee, maybe I come to practice that.

We have an expression in our family ‘thrown’ out there by both women (those in charge of the kitchen) and men. “Just throw it on the grill,” we all say when company is coming or when there are many feed. It means different things to different people, depending on their role. I’m sure you get it.
Last night I was in charge of throwing it on the grill, although it was not the grill but the oven; roasted chicken with potatoes, carrots and a side of green beans. Delicious. I was happy to prepare it and the family was grateful. As I peeled and cooked away, however, I recalled the delicious meals I savored in Italy, and why I cherished eating out. I would sit for a long time being in the moment, sometimes writing in my journal, sometimes reading on my Kindle, always appreciating the preparation, always taking the time to eat and be grateful.

If you want to feel like you’re living-at-home away from home, join the locals and stop in at the same bar every day for your morning coffee. I’ve found one just around the corner from my apartment, near the Ponte Vecchio--a tourist mecca, but not at 7:30. Just us locals.Today the bartender had my cappucchino ready for me by the time I had paid the cashier. He’s there every morning; we locals can count on him, just as he can count on us. I live here and he knows it.

Easy flights and speedy train from Rome to Florence. I arrived at Santa Maria Novella train station at 12:22, called Lorenzo, the wonderful man from whom I rent the apartment, and met him a my new place across the Arno (Oltrarno) near the Ponte Vecchio. Twenty minutes later, wifi was going strong, and I was walking the streets and enjoying pizza at Piazza Signoria.
     The slide show gives a glimpse of my first wander before returning to my current home to take a nap. Very grateful.

I posted this under Cottage Companions, Comfort Food. But here it is now while tomatoes are begging to be picked from the vines. My two friends, Marilyn and Ruth, gifted me the tomatoes. Very grateful!

Fresh tomato sauces. Easy.
Saute  chopped onion and garlic in olive oil.
Skin and seed fresh tomatoes.
Add fresh basil and salt and pepper to taste.
Simmer 45 minutes.
Puree in food processor.
Simmer 15 minutes.
I added ‘meatballs made by her’.