Falling Into Fall

Oh, autumn. Finally.

Well, okay. Autumn isn't really officially here, I admit. The leaves haven't really changed yet...the weather hasn't gotten that much colder...but you know what? I say it's autumn, so it's autumn.

And since it's autumn, it's only fitting that I be sitting here on my sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, blogging, and drinking hot cocoa. (And I am.)

Photo by dtaylorcreative on Flickr

I've always thought of myself as a sort of any-season kind of person. There are good things to like about every season, I always told myself. ...Then again, I grew up in San Diego, where seasons don't exist. It wasn't until this year--the first time I have ever actually lived through all four seasons in a row--that I realized I love the colder seasons the best. Fall and winter.

Not to knock spring and summer. There are lots of things to love about spring and summer. I'm just not really a warm-weather kind of person. I'm not very outdoorsy, I don't like swimming, I don't like wearing shorts, and I really don't like heat.

What I do love is going back to warm, hearty foods like potatoes and squash. Chili and soup. I love finding ways to incorporate pumpkin into everything. Adding a generous helping of cinnamon, nutmeg, or cloves to cookies, cupcakes, even brownies, anything I can think of to bake. I love just turning on the oven again!

"Excuse me, I have some Spain in the oven..."

The Sun Also Rises (which I've almost finished) has given me quite the appetite for all things Spain. That, and the fact that I generally spend a lot of time wishing I were somewhere exotic...well, more exotic than Provo, anyway.

It all started at the library. (That gloriously troublesome place.) I had to return a copy of the movie "Eat Pray Love," and I figured since I had walked all the way there, I might as well browse for a biography of Hemingway to augment my experience with The Sun Also Rises. One thing led to another, and I ended up walking out not only with the biography, but with Cooking Spanish (a very classy-looking cookbook) and "Discovering Spain!" (a corny-looking documentary from the '90s).

(I also happened to walk out with a book about chocolate, but that's beside the point.)

I have yet to actually sit down and watch the DVD, although I've made several attempts. The cookbook, on the other hand, has made my weekend quite the adventure.

Yesterday I dragged my roommate to the store, where I spent a solid hour searching for ingredients for Spanish recipes. I came home and immediately made the simplest-looking recipe in the book: a tortilla.

If any of you are as ignorant about Spanish cooking as I was, you should know that a Spanish tortilla is actually nothing like a Mexican tortilla. (Except that they're both round.) A Spanish tortilla actually consists of thin slices of potato surrounded by egg fried to perfection. (According to the book, whether onions and garlic belong in the dish is an ongoing argument in Spain.) The book made a very big deal about this dish, saying that despite the simplicity, it's very difficult to get it exactly right.

Well, I'm sure my tortilla wasn't exactly right, since after all, I'm just a poor white American who has never so much as tasted authentic Spanish food, but it was delicious all the same.

After scarfing half my tortilla, I hiked Stewart Falls with a couple of friends. (Which was amazing, by the way. You drive half an hour and suddenly, you're hiking over rolling green, forested hills, surrounded by squirrels and caterpillars and forget-me-nots. We're not in California anymore, Toto.) To my delight, one of my friends went who actually lived in Spain for two years not too long ago. We spent most of the trip talking food and Spain and culture; I told him about my tortilla and the other recipes I was planning; he described the festivals, the people, and the diversity of Spain. (He also taught me how to say, "what's up, dude" in Spanish. I can't wait to go to Spain and use that phrase.)