I’m especially resistant to weight-loss resolutions. I’m frankly tired of hearing people deplore their bodies, and I’m sick and tired of them assuming that I feel the same way about mine. As I’ve mentioned before, my own relationship with my body is complicated, but it’s mostly a mixture of appreciation and tender protectiveness. I try not to deride my body despite the messages of inadequacy that bombard us all, and I try to take positive steps, not negative ones. When I exercise, I focus on getting stronger and feeling good, not on losing weight or looking different.

When it comes to resolutions, I focus on pleasure and self-care, not punishment and self-abnegation. Some of my oft-repeated resolutions from previous years: drink more champagne*; sing more; eat more eclairs.

I think I will make a resolution this New Year, and it’s one of celebration, not denial: dance more.

* I’m doing verrrrrrry well with this one.

Predictably, I’m kicking off my list with The Shining, arguably the king* of haunted-house movies. Stephen King complained that Stanley Kubrick’s adaption stripped away most of the motivation and plot, but I contend that the film (co-written by Diane Johnson and Kubrick) necessarily pares away distractions from a baroquely overplotted novel. While that elaborate web of motifs may work in a page-turning book, onscreen they would meld into a sloppy, tension-smothering stew of images. (And if you don’t believe that, check out the King-endorsed miniseries: it preserves as much of the text as possible, which makes it a flabby, slogging mess.) Kubrick’s film creates terror from nothing by winding up the three main players, emptying out that enormous labyrinthian space, and letting them blunder around in there. Kubrick’s The Shining is like a drum: it resonates because it is empty.

For once, I’m going to make a case for an American-language remake. In
The Ring, Naomi Watts brings a somber, unnerving note to her role as Rachel, a reporter following up doggedly on a story about an urban legend and a string of teenager’s deaths. The blankness that sometimes overtakes Rachel’s face makes the dubious plot turns all too convincing. The Ring not only fills the standard criterion of a haunted-house tale (by identifying one place as the site of a terrible deed and the locus for a ghost’s manifestation); it transcends the genre by removing all boundaries. No longer can we rest easy, knowing that the punishing spirit is safely stashed away in its house; this ghost can — and will — follow us anywhere. Even more chilling, The Ring devastatingly throws off the rules of resolution so familiar from campfire tales and old-timey short stories; we think we know how to quiet the dead, but we are oh so wrong.

It’s a well-chewed nugget of story: a motley group is called together to stay in — and to study — a notorious and putatively haunted house. But Robert Wise’s The Haunting (based on Shirley Jackson’s justly renowned novel The Haunting of Hill House) sets the standard for this trope. Instead of cheap jumps and scare chords, this film allows the pressure to simmer away slowly, letting us absorb not only the drab grimness of Hill House’s foreboding rooms but also the mounting tensions between the characters, especially between timid Nell and her roommate, the entrancing bohemian Theo. (note: Be sure you get the 1963 original starring Julie Harris and Claire Bloom, not the flabby 1999 remake.)

Stir of Echoes. This gritty little chiller defies a trope common to the haunted-house genre. Instead of a blandly comfortable upper-middle-class family stumbling upon a vacant ramshackle mansion and snapping it up for a song (without ever wondering about its dark history), Stir of Echoes starts off in a working-class Chicago neighborhood where telephone lineman Tom (Kevin Bacon) lives with his wife and kid. Tom is a forthright, no-nonsense guy who has little time for the mystical puffery spouted by his sister-in-law (Ileana Douglas), which makes his upcoming experiences all the more jolting. It’s a rough, plucky story about trying to carve out a life in rough times, even though death lurks in the corners.

A Tale of Two Sisters. Based on the Korean folktale Rose Flower & Red Lotus, this modern psychological thriller/haunted-house tale retains some of that folk-story pedigree in its balance and grace. The essence of the tale is as familiar as any fairy tale: two troubled girls cling to each other in the face of family strife, a most-unwelcome stepmother, and their belief that some evil force is manifesting itself in their rooms at night. It’s stylish and suspenseful without ever being dismissively slick, at times genuinely terrifying, and in equal parts devastating and heartening in its glimpse inside a family’s private moments.

In The Devil’s Backbone, director Guillermo del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth, Cronos) manages to deliver a genuinely harrowing ghost story wrapped in a surprising blanket of genuine warmth and heart. While his father is off fighting in the Spanish Civil War, young Carlos (Fernando Tielve) is consigned to an orphanage, and we join him as he explores the landscape, learning its mysteries and trying to carve out a place for himself. Del Toro is a master of atmosphere and darkness, but more than that, he knows how to allow character and time to shape a story until each moment is a dark little poem weaving together personal and political history.

In The Orphanage, director J.A. Bayona (funded in part and advised by del Toro) brings a similarly sorrowful tale to light; Laura (Belén Rueda) brings her husband and newly adopted son Simon to the long-abandoned orphanage where she herself grew up; Laura plans to refurbish the building and start a center for disabled children. Though The Orphanage delivers some chilling moments (including at least one that made us two seasoned horror-movie fans jump and holler), it also creates a curious and potent blend of sorrow and sweetness, an elegiac note in an often debased genre.

Okay, it’s not a house, strictly speaking, but director Brad Andersen’s low-budget high-tension psychological thriller Session 9 captures the essence of haunted-house stories. A small team works long hours at on the lonely grounds of an abandoned mental hospital; each member of the four-man team brings his own personal pressures to the job with them, but their tension is compounded by the rush job and by the oppressive atmosphere of the site. The hulking architecture of the actual long-derelict Danvers State Hospital lends its uniquely sinister air to the film, casting dread and a literal shadow over the landscape.

*See what I did there?

These reviews are cross-posted to The VideoReport.

Because the weekly print version of The VideoReport has limited column inches, I left out some fantastic haunted-house films, including: The Innocents (which makes a great double-feature with The Others); Beetlejuice; Ghostbusters; The Changeling; Poltergeist.

I want to give special attention to a little-known film that The Fella brought home for me this week: The Eclipse is an unexpected morsel of a ghost story, thoughtful and tender and punctuated with a few simple, terrifying moments. The craggy, cliff-like face of Ciarán Hinds (Persuasion, Rome, Margot at the Wedding) is captivating, and he brings great presence and heart to his very quiet character. Michael (Hinds) is a widower, but wait — it’s not the story you expect.

Indeed, The Eclipse is not at all what we expect from a movie haunting. Rather than a ghost story fleshed out with characters, this is a character study in which one character may be seeing a ghost. Even the direction is unexpected. The scenes are framed intelligently, attentively, but not flashily; the moments of ghostly appearance don’t hit the usual beats and jumps, but let us see the images presented simply — a surprisingly affecting (and just occasionally terrifying) method.

“You look a little beat, hon,” I said. “Did you have dinner?”

“Not really.”

It took me all of three minutes to whip up something simple for him to eat. As I gave him the plate and a beer, The Fella took my hand and quietly, earnestly said, “Thank you. Thank you for marrying me.”

Today is our second anniversary, and The Fella’s hatched some secret plans. (Nothing big, he assures me. Just secret.) The first item on the agenda: he got me an enormous coffee. Number two on the agenda: he’s doing laundry.

This guy gets me.

* [The Fella, don't hover over the links!] update Now that I’ve given The Fella his gift, I can describe it here. We’re going to have a mid-year variation on our Valentine’s day tradition of staying in with cheesy horror movies and pizza.

For the cotton anniversary, I gave The Fella the abominable-looking Lady Frankenstein, starring Joseph Cotten. Yeah.

Because it’s too hot to heat the oven, I’ll be picking up fantastic take-out pizza from Otto.

Wait for it… cotton.

I toyed with plenty of other gift ideas. For example, I thought about getting a really luxurious set of sheets, which we kinda need. Or towels, ditto. But I dismissed those as gifts for me, not for The Fella.

What did The Fella give me? A really luxurious set of sheets. And a really luxurious towel. Did I mention: this guy gets me.

This long stretch of one-handedness fell inconveniently during a busy celebrating season, with two birthdays and several other parties to cook for. To my delight, I discovered that a little ingenuity and planning makes it easy to entertain one-handed; a trip to Trader Joe’s makes it even easier.

These are recipes — heck, not even recipes, just templates and ideas and products — that I plan to use again and again when time is tight or inspiration is lacking. Here’s just a few of the festive dishes I whipped up with one hand tied behind my back.

for The Fella’s birthday party, a twelve-hour open house:
- goat cheese with store-bought tapenade, served with grape tomatoes, roasted red peppers from the grocery store’s olive bar, and crackers.
- store-bought hummus topped with Trader Joe’s eggplant & garlic dip, served with pita bread, cucumbers, and olives.
- brie topped with a palmful of brown sugar and a sliver of butter, then baked until bubbly and served with baguette, water crackers, and cold grapes. Also good with dried cranberries.
- Trader Joe’s spanakopita triangles, spread out on a baking sheet, not crammed into their tiny tray, brushed with olive oil or melted butter, sprinkled with coarse salt, and baked much longer than instructed, until deep golden brown and crispy. They weren’t as delectable as homemade spanakopita, and no reasonable person would expect them to be — but they were pretty darned good.
- pulled pork. The Fella diced up the fixings for a taco bar, and I contributed a big mess o’ pulled pork, which required me to open 1) a butcher’s packet; 2) a bottle of BBQ sauce; 3) a tetra pack of cheap red wine. It is fannnnnntastic.
- marble cupcakes. (Yeeeah, this one was tricky to do one-handed, but it’s not a birthday without cake. I didn’t make the cake from scratch, just bought one packet of chocolate cake mix and one packet of yellow cake mix, whipped them up with cooled melted butter in place of the oil, and spooned them into the cupcake tins, then swirled with a skewer for delicate marbling.)
- ganache for frosting: just heavy cream brought to a boil and poured over good chocolate, then stirred until smooth. My professional-baker fancy-pants sister even gave me instructions for whipping it (much better instructions than Cooks Illustrated cookbook, by the way), but in the end I realized that dipping cupcake tops into the warm ganache would be faster and easier than any other method.

For a birthday dinner:
- baked brie again, because WHY ON EARTH NOT?
- more store-bought hummus spiked with lemon, topped with eggplant spread, and then sprinkled with the last of the tomatoes from the taco bar, seared with olive oil and chili powder, served with pita.
- my simplest, best black bean soup. (Instead of mincing an onion, I whacked one up roughly and processed the entire pot of soup, then added some reserved beans at the end.)
- oven-baked frittata with frozen spinach and caramelized onions, using up the last of the onions from The Fella’s taco bar.
- a perfectly simple salad: greens topped with cranberries and toasted almonds and tossed with good balsamic vingar, superb olive oil, cracked pepper, and Polish finishing salt.
- a half-baked loaf of bread (from TJ’s again), finished in our oven.
- buttery cake (on The Fella’s birthday, I baked the excess yellow-cake batter in tiny loaf pans and froze it), stabbed with a fork and soaked with orange syrup (simple syrup spiked with OJ and triple sec, reduced until thick), then glazed with the last of the ganache. I served three tiny slices on each plate, fanned out and drizzled with another spoonful of orange syrup… and I am converted: syrup-soaked cakes from now on!
- a final dessert garnish: chocolate-covered orange jelly sticks.

for assorted other events:
- goat cheese with good balsamic vinegar —the thick, expensive syrupy kind — and toasted slivered almonds, served with crackers or baguette. I made this twice, and not the same evening as I served the goat cheese with tapenade.. and by “made it,” I mean “tore open a packet of goat cheese, poured balsamic over it, and toasted some nuts.” It’s crazy-easy and crazy-good — so crazy-good that I made it twice in the last two weeks to take to some pretty ritzy doings.
- various permutations of hummus-with something: hummus with lemon and roasted red peppers and olives, hummus with tapenade, hummus with eggplant spread and tapenade, and so on.

and a few ideas I brainstormed up but never did try out:
- mushroom caps rolled in olive oil, filled with spoonfuls of frozen spinach souffle and baked.
- Whole Foods dumplings or gyoza warmed in sesame oil and scattered with scallions.
- vegetarian meatballs heated with chili sauce, red currant jelly, and white wine. (I’ve made these retro darlings with frozen actual-meat meatballs and people go INSANE for them.)

These last few ideas sounded so good it’s a shame we didn’t get to try ‘em. Oh, well, maybe the next time I inflict a horrible injury upon myself, we’ll get around to these.

I bake sandwich breads and sweet almond bread and cinnamon rolls. I make caramel corn and Chex mix. I make dips and paté and savory jams to take to parties and family gatherings. I make butterscotch sauce with bourbon or brandy. I make brittle (peanut brittle, natch, but last year I also tested out chili-spiced pumpkin seed brittle and a garnet-colored Shiraz and almond brittle) and chocolate-covered almond toffee.

And then there are cookies.

Every year, I envision giving friends and families beautiful platters all kinds of cookies and sweets… and every year, I end up making one giant batch of biscotti and calling it good, and then I daydream about next year, when I’ll surely make chocolate sandwich cookies and jam thumbprints and frosted sugar cookies and shortbread and and and…

If you, like me, dream of a giant platter with a half-dozen kinds of cookies but always run out of time and patience, consider a cookie swap as a way to amass a cache of cookies without all the planning and the work and the cursing oh the cursing. (… or is that just me?)

What exactly is a cookie swap? It’s just what it sounds like: each person bakes a big batch of one kind of cookie, then you all get together and swap cookies. Doesn’t get simpler than that, does it? You can make it as small or large as you want, just remember that size matters. If you have a dozen participants, each will end up with a dozen kinds of cookie; three participants, three kinds of cookies.

A recent discussion over at The Kitchn reminded me that different people have different goals for cookie swaps. For some, it’s a competitive event or a foodie’s chance to shine; for some, it’s all about collecting as many fancy-pants cookies as possible.

For me, a cookie swap means relaxing, getting together with friends, and taking a little holiday pressure off each other’s shoulders. That’s why I only do cookie swaps with my closest, most relaxed friends, and I make sure we all have similar expectations. It’s also a great idea to propose a cookie swap as an alternative to exchanging gifts, not as an additional responsibility. This way, all the participants cross off one more item on their Christmas list and head home with all their cookie-making done!

So, on to the how-to. Hosting a cookie swap is easy enough, but here are some ideas to guarantee a successful swap! My cookie-swap motto: it needn’t be fancy!

The cookies:

My friends and I choose categories, but not specific recipes. Someone might volunteer to bring a nut cookie, a sugar cookie or shortbread, a chocolate cookie, a mix-in cookie (like chocolate chip or M&M cookies), a fruit cookie, a jam cookie, whatever. That way, we avoid overlaps but keep our freedom to exercise our whims.

- It’s nice (though not necessary) if each contributor writes or prints up a simple label for their cookies, and makes enough copies so every participant can take home a copy. It needn’t be fancy; this is just a simpl way to keep track of what you’re collecting and avoid allergic or dietary problems. The bigger the swap, the more helpful this is.

Encourage your guests to bring tins or Tupperware to pack up their plunder, but it’s also a good idea to have some packaging on hand to give away, just in case. Some cheap or free packaging possibilities:

- I always scrub and save any disposable (and ideally free) packaging that comes with groceries or take-out: plastic clamshells, the plasticky biodegradable takeout containers from the fancy market, aluminum trays from baked goods, salad bar clamshells, whatever.

- Parchment paper! Lining the takeout containers with parchment gives the cookies a little cushioning for transit.

- But there’s nothing wrong with just providing heavy-duty paper plates and plastic wrap or foil.

- have some extra Ziploc bags or a new roll of foil on hand, just in case.

A cookie swap can be as utilitarian as you want, but for me it’s a chance to kick off my shoes and steal a few hours with friends in a hectic season. Cookies are a great excuse to have a happy evening with your bestest friends, so you might as well treat it like a party! Some ideas:

- if space allows, set up the cookie-swap table away from the main seating area. That way, people can circulate around it more freely.

- I like to offer wine, beer, chilled water, and at least two nice non-alcoholic drinks. Ginger beer and juice spritzers are favorites around here; neither is too too sweet.

- Be sure to offer a few savory nibbles; everyone has been eating cookies before and during the party! Something simple and salty is good, like pretzels or crackers with a nice dip*, or a dish of homemade hummus and crudités, or a cheese and fruit tray with bread or crackers. Anything savory will be a hit.

- Without much extra work, you could make it a dinner party. Nothing fussy or fancy: try serving a big crockpot of chili or soup and a pan of cornbread. (If you don’t have enough bowls for a crowd, serve the chili in coffee mugs or ramekins.) Then everyone is sent home with a full belly and a lot of cookies! Well-fed guests are less likely to eat up the entire cookie buffet, which is a bonus.

And I can’t say it enough: it needn’t be fancy. That goes for the invitation to the swap, for the cookie packaging, for the food you serve, and for the cookies themselves. Sometimes, friends who aren’t terribly at home it the kitchen get a little intimidated at the prospect of making dozens of cookies. Remind them that they could whip up two batches of Tollhouse cookies, or make four-ingredient shortbread, or whatever. The simplest cookies are delicious and beloved.

Remember, this is supposed to be relaxxxxxxxxing, so only good friends, only real friends, only the hair-down, shoes-off kind of friends get asked to participate. We get enough holiday stress out in the world; no need to invite it into your home and feed it cookies!

This post is an adaptation of a comment from a post on The Alchemist, Cookie Exchange, and Holiday Expectations, for which Alchemy Gen awarded me the great moveable-type cookie-cutter set seen above.

The Bitwrathploob arrived from Bulgaria late this summer for an extended stay with The Fella and me. For the first few weeks, we stayed pretty close to the hearth, the ‘Ploob gracing our living room from a position of prominence on his shelf. We’re homebodies, but eventually I realized I had to start taking ole ‘Ploobie out and showing him the sights. After all, the little guy is a world traveler; he doesn’t want to sit around our living room watching “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”*

We kicked it off on Labor Day when friend AC suggested a picnic on Portland’s Western Promenade, and promised to bring along A) her fantastic peach sangria with basil, B) her partner JE, and C) her Italian greyhounds, Turk and Pal. (Turk and Pal, who are delightful companions even for a dog-skittish type like me, evinced great interest in every passing dog, squirrel, hippie, child, bicycle, skateboard, bocce ball, and shirtless fellow, but — happily — no interest at all in a buck-toothed rope-armed troll-haired pantsless wood bear. Phew.)

For a modest outing, it offered plenty of excitement. In addition to the delicious food and drink, the Ploob witnessed a drum circle, a dreadlocked dog the size of a horse, the furtive intercourse of strangers in the underbrush, and all manner of inappropriate shirtlessness. Thanks for coming to stay with us, Bitwrathploob. I hope we can make your visit a happy one!

*Yeah, but he’s going to. And he’ll like it.

- Various Peeps atrocities.

- Passover Coca Cola with the yellow cap. [Previously on macbebekin, though the images are stripped.]

- And, courtesy of Jagosaurus, a harbinger of spring in our nation’s capital: the appearance of the National Cherry Festival mascot… Paddles The Beaver. No, really: Paddles The Beaver.

First, Ann Druyan reflects on the message she contributed to the Voyager Golden Record. [update: the original Radiolab broadcast dates from May of 2006, but I see that Morning Edition and Radiolab have replayed it as a Valentine's Day broadcast. The rebroadcast is available here, but I recommend listening to the original broadcast in all its meditative, lyrical beauty.]

Second, Jonathan Coulter’s I’m Your Moon:

I’m your moon
You’re my moon
We go round and round
From out here, it’s the rest of the world that looks so small
Promise me
You will always remember who you are

Um, hi. Remember me, Elli? What’s it been, a year? Well, it feels like it. Yes, I will admit to procrastinating a fair bit here and in other areas which can lead to a violent overcompensation. Be ye forewarned.

I just got back from my first real vacation in three years. It was cheaper and quicker to fly to Bali than the other side of Australia, thus making our decision quite easy. Neither JM or I had ever been there, nor are we likely to go again, however we did have a pleasant enough time. The area surrounding our village reminded me somewhat of New York — the smells, the many taxis, the honking, the street hawkers who don’t shout, but rather fall in step along side and try to sweep you into their stores every few hundred feet. I felt most comfortable tucked away in our villa where I spent the majority of the time either swimming in the private pool or in a comfy chair reading a book. I could pretty much do that at home though (especially if I had a pool.) We also attended a cooking class, but most of the work was done by an efficient team of Balinese women, which can take the fun and the harm right out of it. So my only injury was a slight sunburn on the back of my neck from the harsh equatorial sun on day one when we went out exploring on foot and I almost got run over by one or two of the millions of scooterists. No really, I had fun.

Now we’re back and I’m faced with the usual onslaught of thoughts including should I or shouldn’t I finally have that parathyroidectomy? When you read the words “end stage organ failure” in a doctor’s report it really makes you think. Sure, he’s merely referring to the fact that I have osteoporosis of the wrist, but it’s dramatic enough to make me think, hey, this isn’t getting any better is it? And worrying about the potential falls I could have had on the myriad of stairs in Bali really made me muse some more. So there’s a phone call I’ll be making tomorrow to my surgeon for an appointment.

Ah, now I need another day to recover from all this vacationing which is just what the procrastinator ordered…

[If you're looking for ideas to serve guests, keep in mind that The Fella is an ovo-lacto vegetarian, so many of our dishes are not suitable for vegans, though any of them could be adapted. Of course, if you're catering to vegetarian guests of your own, it's worth asking them what they can and cannot eat, since restrictions vary, as do tastes.]

The centerpiece of our dinner is The Fella’s specialty, roasted squash galettes with caramelized onions and roasted garlic in a yeasted olive-oil dough. He’s brought it to family Thanksgivings, where everyone fell upon the dish with moans. The recipe is from Deborah Madison’s wonderful book, Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. Instead of one big pastry, The Fella makes mini-galettes the size of a fist. You can even shape them ahead and freeze them; let the frozen pastries thaw on a parchment-covered cooking sheet, then brush dough with egg wash and bake them. We made a hundred of these to serve on our wedding buffet, and they came out perfectly.*

A side of greens with chile mushrooms cozies up to the squash galettes perfectly. Its strong, slightly pungent flavor (tarted up with lemon) contrasts perfectly with the squash’s sweet-savory complexity. Chard, beets greens, kale, whatever looks good at the market. You know the rule with greens: wash, wash, wash, at least three times, changing the water each time. I like to do this as soon as we bring them home, before they even get into the fridge. Then I strip the stems, blanch and shock the greens, and — hey, presto! — huge bushel of greens shrinks down to fit in a small covered dish in the fridge (or in the freezer if you’re keeping them more than a couple of days). This is a handy dish to take to a potluck if oven space is scarce and you’ll have a chance to slide in front of the stove for three minutes immediately before dinner.

The method is pretty simple: saute some thinly sliced mushrooms in olive oil or butter with oregano, chile powder, salt, pepper, and plenty of fresh-grated nutmeg. You can prepare this up to two days ahead; when ready to serve, heat mushrooms in a pan, toss in greens (as is or roughly chopped), and toss as the greens sear and steam for a very few minutes. If you like garlic (we do!), you can add chopped or slivered garlic with the greens, or do what I do: squeeze a clove of garlic from your garlic press as the greens finish steaming, turn off the heat, and stir the garlic into the greens. The residual heat from the pan takes the sharp edge off the pressed garlic. Now add a healthy squeeze of lemon and toss. Ta-da!

Uh-oh: I want mashed potatoes, The Fella wants mashed sweet potatoes. Trouble in Paradise? Heck no — we’re having both! I’ll make smashed Yukon Gold potatoes with scallions: steam the potatoes in shallow salted water until they slide off a sharp knife. (I learned that trick from Cooks Illustrated, and it has never failed me.) Smash them roughly, skins and all, in a bowl. Add a lump of butter and a generous splash of milk. (For vegans, substitute olive oil and vegetable broth.) Add generous pepper and more salt than you think you need. You can make these ahead, too, and reheat in a double boiler. Add chopped scallions shortly before serving; stir through.

If The Fella agrees, we’ll stay away from the super-sweet sweet potato dishes that blot so many holiday tables. I’m thinking up a dish: whipped sweet potatoes with orange and lemon. We’ll make this one up on the fly, but the idea is simple: bake sweet potatoes, skin and mash them, then with a fork whip in a little fresh orange juice and zest, a little lemon to balance the sweetness, plenty of salt and pepper, and a little bit of butter or oil.

The Fella suggested roasted vegetables, which is sure to include roasted carrots. I like to blanch them, toss them with a tiny bit of butter and salt, and roast at high heat until they’re brown on the edges, slightly shriveled, and totally delicious.

We’ll add something green and fresh and little bit fancy, too. Maybe a dish of steamed asparagus, because it’s always fun to eat a fancy meal quite properly with your fingers. Maybe a simple salad: mixed greens, cranberries, glazed pecans or pumpkin seeds, sliced apple, and a lemon dressing. This is a favorite for holidays because it’s festive and light, and also a snap to prepare. All the components are shelf stable except the dressing and the greens. (I also love that it’s seasonally appropriate — pumpkin, cranberry, apple — but then I’m a foodways nerd.)

Honoring your vegetarian tablemates’ wishes and appetites really ought not to be too difficult, especially when so many families serve abundant vegetable side dishes with their roasted meats. Some basic guidelines:
- Keep vegetable dishes vegetarian, or clearly indicate which ones aren’t. It’s frustrating for vegetarians to take a bite only to discover that a seemingly vegetarian dish contains pancetta or bacon or chicken stock.
- Some vegetarians are cautious about eating cheese, which can contain rennet, so it’s best to ask your guests what they do and do not eat. You can encourage them to bring a dish, too.
- Realize that most “vegetarian” dishes will be eaten by vegetarians and omnivores alike, so make plenty.
- Tofurkey is not necessary. Serve it if you like it, but don’t feel the need to offer a meat substitute.
- If you’re making old-fashioned in-the-bird stuffing, consider serving a separate dish of stuffing cooked in a casserole (without meat juices).

Onion herb bread is perfect for a vegetarian Thanksgiving, especially if you’re doing without stuffing. It’s richly savory and fragrant, crusty on the outside and soft inside with a tender crumb that falls apart. I like to bake it in small loaves or rolls, to be sure the interior gets cooked through… and also because they’re so darned cute. (It’s also a great Thanksgiving recipe for meat-eaters: stack some leftover turkey on this bread, add some mayo or butter and maybe a lettuce leaf, whatever else goes in your Thanksgiving sandwich, and thank me later. Add some gravy and it’s transcendent.)

Speaking of cute: tiny tarts and pies, oh my! I’ve decided that a major delight of a teeny tiny Thanksgiving is a teeny tiny dessert buffet: pumpkin pie, three-berry pie (blueberry, blackberry, raspberry), and maybe some so-tiny-they’re-almost-invisible pecan tarts. Also ice cream.

For all the sorrow and all the pain that befalls us every year, there is always so much for which we can be thankful. This year especially, I am deeply thankful for my husband — and for an entire holiday alone with him.

*From what I hear. Pfffft, I didn’t get to eat anything except a bite of salad, a bite of — you guessed it — squash galette, and a big ole slab of my sister’s wedding cake.