I was driving home from the grocery store(s) this evening (I have a sick habit of going to more than one, just because I like this one for these things, and that for others. And, I can only afford to go to Whole Foods for select goods. I try to control myself there. I try, and I steer clear of the temptations of the cheese and charcuturie counter), singing loudly along with an acoustic version of Steve Nicks’ Landslide and thinking how much I love this time of the year. I am solidly a Four Seasons kind of girl. I need change, and the cold and the rain as much as the sun and the humidity (sometimes I could do with less of that). November is actually a pretty glorious time in North Carolina, much more autumnal than October, though that’s a nice month, too. November here is the way you imagine October should be, and probably was, once upon a time and before global warming, with smoke-scented air and yellow carpets of leaves, stained by black walnuts. Short days and twilight at 5 p.m., I even like you right now, though I’m sure I’ll be tired of that by mid-January.

We’ve had such a nice few days…if only every week could be two days of work interspersed with a long weekend of geography (for Kelly, not me) in Charleston (a lovely place, truly, but no competition for the place New Orleans holds in my heart), and a festive Thanksgiving with my mom, one of my sisters, and three of our guy friends, walks and a trip to the new, fancy dog park with the pooches, flannel sheets on the bed and hot apple cider in my biggest, bluest mug. Tonight, two of the guys came back to eat leftover turkey, gravy, stuffing, and pie, and now they’re building and conquering with Kelly in the dining room.

The furnace guys were here all week, but still no heat. I’m getting more used to it. Again, it’s good for pastry making, this dry, chilly weather.

Anyway, I wanted to post this recipe while it’s still November and stubborn people like me - and you? - can still hold onto a season they are not ready to have end and ignore the jingle bells. We still have almost have a week of November, folks! So keep eating pumpkin and push away the nog. Pumpkin’s still in season, in any case, so you’re being responsible by eating your share.

My original idea with Thanksgiving was to have a light(ish) dessert, something we could stomach after the glut of turkey and the siren of tryptophan. Of course I made more. And of course my mom brought pie despite herself. I mean, I couldn’t refuse her when I heard she had some ones languishing at home. Still, among the coconut pie and the most excellent pumpkin and the apple tart, these babies stood out. They taste like the best sort of pumpkin pie filling, sans crust, smooth and clovey. I added the whipped cream because I wanted something to cut the sweetness of the custard, yet push the spicy flavor one step higher, and that led me to my spice shelf and the overlooked, under-used bag of star anise I bought at an Asian market last year. I tend to like my whipped cream barely sweetened, more on the sour side, so adding creme fraiche wasn’t a stretch, but you could probably even use sour cream. Just play with it, adjust it to your taste, and remember that you can always add more sugar (or syrup, in this case), but you can’t take it out.

Maple Pumpkin Pots de Creme with Star Anise-Creme Fraiche Whipped Cream
Adapted from Gourmet

Yield: 8 custards

1 cup heavy cream, the best you can buy
3/4 cup whole milk
3/4 cup pure maple syrup
1/2 cup canned pumpkin
7 large egg yolks
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon salt

For whipped cream

1 cup water
1 cup sugar
5-6 star anise, crushed a bit with a rolling pin or other heavy object
1 vanilla bean, spilt open
about a cup to 1 1/2 cup good heavy cream
Equivalent amount of creme fraiche

Preheat oven to 325.

Whisk together cream, milk, syrup, and pumpkin in a heavy saucepan and bring just to a simmer over moderate heat.

Whisk together yolks, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt in a bowl.

Add hot pumpkin mixture to yolks in a slow stream, whisking constantly. Pour custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a large measuring cup, then divide among custard cups (you may have some custard left over, depending on size of cups). Bake custards in a hot water bath (boil water in a kettle, add about two inches to pan - you don’t want the water to cover or even lap closely to the top of the custards, but go about mid way up their sides), the pan covered tightly with foil, in middle of oven until a knife inserted in center of a custard comes out clean, 35 to 40 minutes. Transfer custards to a rack to cool completely. Chill, individually covered with plastic wrap, until cold, at least 2 hours.

Pots de creme can be chilled up to 2 days.

Take the star anise, water, and sugar and simmer in a saucepan. Add the vanilla bean, scraping the inside into the pan. Boil gently until reduced by about half, or the liquid has become syrupy and can coat the back of a spoon. Cool, store in fridge for up to two days.

Make the whipped cream immediately before serving. Strain star anise syrup and pour about half into mixing bowl with heavy cream and creme fraiche. Whip. Adjust cream to taste, adding more creme fraiche, cream or syrup.

Unwrap pots de creme. Dollop whipped cream on top. Add a star anise for decoration.

I’ve lost count of the days we’ve been living without heat. Well, without central heat. So I’m a whiner. It’s not true we’re living without any heat, per se, it’s just that it’s a far cry from deliciously hot blasts that burped out of our grated vents last January. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t take the Peace Corps up on their offer back a few years ago when I was searching for myself. My choices were Africa and eastern Europe, and I closed my eyes and jabbed at the one I thought would have better pastries. And then I met Kelly and got a new job and sadly, blew the Peace Corps off. I hope they forgive me. I’m not proud of this.

Anyway, back to my whining. Oh, how I loathe our dependence on oil. It makes everything warm…on the plus side, our house in winter, on the negative, the Earth. Anyway, things are getting better. First, we are getting used to the huddling and the shivering. It’s actually not that different from having heat since we keep it turned down low. We are not rich, and we would rather spend what money we have going to France (Hi, Tara!) than buying fuel. It fits in with the chilly garret-thesis-writing lifestyle Kelly is deep in. We have a little fleet of space heaters thanks to friends. We have a lot of sweaters and slippers and afghans made by mothers and grandmothers. We have two dogs that like to curl up into little commas next to us. Keeping the heat down in the winter is better for your skin and your immune system, anyway, my doctor says. Maybe I made that last part up.

This chill has benefits. I’ve been cooking up a storm. A pair of regular clients is moving into a new home, so I had this last Sunday free. And I spent the last two days in a anonymous gray room learning fun facts about food safety so that I can become ServSafe certified. As a personal chef, cooking in people’s homes, I don’t have to, but my association pretty much makes it mandatory, and I think it’s a wise idea. So now I can go on and on about listeriosis.

I’m a little freaked out by the instructor’s war stories, and I generally think of myself as a clean but not a paranoid person. Wash your hands, please!

Saturday, we made an old standby that we don’t really have a recipe for, a roast chicken rubbed with paprika and red pepper and cumin and tucked into an iron skillet before it goes in the oven. With that, I braised a handful of kale and garlic and roasted a single, huge North Carolina Sweet Potato (TM) and mashed it with chipotle powder and a pat of butter. Sunday, I made Deb’s fabulous black bean pumpkin soup, which we ate with some Point Reyes blue cheese and the tail end of a baguette. I think both a vegetarian and an omnivorous version of this soup are going to go into heavy rotation on the menus I develop. We are still the eating the leftovers, and they get better every day. I love that about some soups. Mary K., I meant to bring you some. Did I say we had leftovers…whoops.

Monday I tested out a new recipe for my vegetarian clients, roasted acorn squash filled with an earthy, salty sun-dried tomato pesto polenta, and brought some tithes across the street (this time) for Mary K. And I had a sack of apples from the farmers’ market sitting on the counter, so I tried out the simple apple tart on Smitten Kitchen (Deb, again!). It’s fabulous, though I shouldn’t have used Stayman and Arkansas Blacks. I’ll use a firmer, tarter variety next week when I make it for Thanksgiving. I love pie, I love it - as the daughter of a Midwestern farm girl, it’s sort of my birthright, my destiny and my inheritance all wrapped into one. But I was determined not to gild the lily this year. I was determined to show some restraint. Then those maple pumpkin pots de creme I have planned began to sound so lonely…Well, hell, apparently, I can’t escape making some form of it, but honestly, this version is so easy-peasy, go for it. The pastry is amazing. I thought for sure it wouldn’t be flakey since it calls for softened butter and mashing it in the food processor until it looks like cornmeal (which it does, exactly). Pastry is so picky, so finicky, you know. It’s like having a cat…you can’t force a relationship with it. Maybe having a cold house is good for some things.

The crowning achievement of the weekend, though, was the advance work Kelly and I did for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is such a great holiday - all food and festivity, no pressure or presents, but the menu gets a little tired. So when my mom talked about about her crazy travel schedule for work, I cleared my throat and raised my hand high before she could change her mind.

I wanted to do things just a little different. I even tried to talk Kelly into a different kind of poultry, duck, say, rather than the same old fat bird. He wouldn’t have it. He actually likes turkey, a lot, and he’s very good at roasting it. On Sunday, he even made turkey stock with some wings and such that he picked up a nearby butcher shop. Folks, to me, it makes a difference in your gravy. Hell, there are some things even I won’t fuss with, and if you’re going to have mashed potatoes (ours: Yukon Gold, with brown butter and scallions) on Thanksgiving, you better have gravy (to make those little lakes, you know?). Made with homemade turkey stock, your gravy will just taste deeper, some how, definitely richer, unquestionably more worthwhile.

Here’s the good news: you can make this well in advance and freeze it. It’s not too late to do it now and not feel crushed by all other tasks (us: pick up Settlers of Catan off the dining room table from last Saturday’s game, get our new furnace installed) And you don’t really make it…you just throw some things in a pot, roast them here and there, and then cover them with water and let them shimmer, just barely, for a solid three hours.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take glamour shots of the finished product…so you’ll just have to take my word for it. I was concentrating on the gougeres, one of our appetizers, the one I can throw in the freezer and forget about it until next week.

These can also be frozen, these lovely little clouds of sharp cheddar and roasted corn and bacon. I think they’re a classy nibble. But since I can’t restrain myself, I am also filling endive leaves with smoked trout and herbs bound with cream cheese. Endive will be making not one, but two appearances.

Hope we make it to the tart.

Turkey Stock
Adapted from Gourmet, November 2007

Makes about 10 cups

5 pound turkey parts such as wings, drumsticks, and thighs
2 medium yellow onions, left unpeeled, trimmed and quartered
2 celery ribs, cut into 2-inch lengths
2 carrots, cut into 2-inch lengths
4 quart cold water, divided
5 parsley stems (without leaves)
1 Turkish bay leaf or 1/2 California
8 black peppercorns

Preheat oven to 500°F with rack in lowest position.

If using turkey wings, halve at joints with a cleaver or large knife, then crack wing bones in several places with back of cleaver or knife. (Do not crack bones if using other parts.) Pat turkey dry. Roast turkey parts, skin sides down, in dry flameproof roasting pan, turning once, until browned well, about 1 hour. Transfer to an 8-quart stockpot using tongs, reserving fat in roasting pan.

Add onions, celery, and carrots to fat in pan and roast, stirring halfway through roasting, until golden, 25 to 30 minutes. Add vegetables to turkey in stockpot.

Straddle roasting pan across 2 burners, then add 2 cups water and deglaze by boiling, stirring and scraping up brown bits, 1 minute. Add deglazing liquid to turkey and vegetables in stockpot, then add remaining 3 1/2 quarts water along with remaining ingredients and 1 teaspoon salt. Very gently simmer uncovered 3 hours. The stock should barely be moving, that’s how gently.

Strain stock through a large fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl, discarding solids. If using immediately, let stand until fat rises to top, 1 to 2 minutes, then skim off and discard fat. If not, chill, uncovered, until cool, then covered, before skimming fat (it will be easier to remove when cool or cold).

Stock can be chilled in an airtight container up to 1 week or frozen up to 3 months.

Bacon and Roasted Corn Gougeres
Adapted from Gourmet, November 2007

4 hickory-smoked bacon slices (1/4 pound)
3/4 cup corn (from 2 medium ears)
1 cup water
1 stick unsalted butter, cut into tablespoon pieces
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
4 to 5 large eggs
1 1/2 cups coarsely grated extra-sharp Cheddar (5 ounces)
2 tablespoons grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
3 tablespoons finely chopped chives

Preheat oven to 375°F with racks in upper and lower thirds.

Cook bacon in skillet over medium heat, turning occasionally, until crisp. Drain on paper towels, then finely chop.

Pour off fat from skillet, then wipe clean. Add corn and pan-roast over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until kernels are mostly golden brown, 10 to 15 minutes. (If you don’t have a cast-iron skillet, broil corn in an oiled baking pan 4 to 6 inches from heat, stirring once or twice, about 5 minutes)

Bring water to a boil with butter and salt in a heavy medium saucepan, stirring until butter is melted. Add flour all at once and cook over medium heat, stirring vigorously with a wooden spoon, until mixture pulls away from side of pan, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat and cool slightly, about 3 minutes. Add 4 eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. (Batter will appear to separate at first but will then become smooth.) Mixture should be glossy and just stiff enough to hold soft peaks and fall softly from a spoon. If batter is too stiff, beat remaining egg in a small bowl and add to batter 1 teaspoon at a time, beating and then testing batter until it reaches proper consistency.

Stir in bacon, corn, cheeses, chives, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper.

Line 2 large baking sheets with parchment paper or lightly butter sheets. Fill a pastry bag fitted with 1/2-inch plain tip with batter and pipe about 35 (3/4-inch-diameter) mounds, or spoon mounded teaspoons, 1/4 inch apart, onto each sheet. Bake, switching position of sheets halfway through baking, until puffed, golden, and crisp, 25 to 30 minutes total. Transfer to a rack (still on parchment if using). Make more puffs on cooled baking sheets. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Gougeres can be made ahead and cooled completely, uncovered, then chilled in sealed bags 2 days or frozen 1 week. (I am trying for a week and a half. I double-bagged them in freezer bags. If they don’t work, we won’t go hungry!) Reheat, uncovered, on baking sheets in a 350°F oven 10 minutes if chilled or 15 minutes if frozen.