Here's a Thanksgiving post from the archives that contains a whole heap of turkey roasting knowledge that will come in handy right about now. Written by former Slashfoodie (and current Culinate guest blogger) Sarah Gilbert, these tips will have you handling your bird like a pro.

• Start with a clean, dry bird. Remove whatever giblets and random turkey parts are inside the bird, rinse with cold water in your sink, and pat dry with paper towels, inside and out.
  
• Rub with butter, salt and sage. Sage is the classic poultry roasting herb, and is good fresh or dried (I like the powdered "rubbed sage" for easy application). Get your butter nice and soft, roll up your sleeves, and start rubbing. Salt and other herbs and spices can be sprinkled on or mixed with the butter.
• Roast the bird unstuffed. Your turkey will cook more evenly if you put the stuffing on the side in a casserole. I've stuffed many a bird, but the marginal flavor benefit the stuffing receives seems small in comparison to the safety and ease an unstuffed bird ensures.
  
• Roast alone in a large, heavy-bottomed pan. My turkey gets cooked on the pan (not on the rack) in a big hard anodized roasting pan I purchased on sale one year. It's great for creating those crackly bits and making gravy on the stove later.
  

Last December, while I was in Portland visiting my parents for the holidays, I met up with occasional Slashfoodie Sarah Gilbert at the Park Blocks Farmers Market. We spent some time wandering around, buying up some of the most gorgeous produce I've ever seen and taking lots and lots of pictures. I remember taking a picture similar to this one of a small mountain of turnips.

The thing I especially like about this picture of these parsnips is the contrast between the white of the root and the vivid, fresh green of the tops. I am constantly in awe of how beautiful the work of nature is! Big thanks to Clayirving, for adding this one to the Slashfood Flickr pool!

Until last year, I had never heard of green garlic. I was certainly familiar with regular old garlic, it was ever-present in my childhood kitchen, but I generally didn't give much thought to the younger, spring version of that familiar, stinky bulb until it started appearing all over the media. It (along with ramps) was the springtime darling. I actually missed out on it last year because the large Headhouse Square Farmers' Market didn't open until the beginning of July and the smaller markets I frequent didn't carry it, but I was intrigued by it.

But this year, there was an abundance of green garlic, in all of its purple, white and green glory. The first weekend of the market I picked a bunch up (even though I didn't really know what to do with it) and brought it home. That week I chopped up several of the bulbs and their leggy greens and sauteed them with onions and sausage for a quick pasta topper. I've used it in place of regular garlic in lots of things and have also tossed thin slices with some early tomatoes, salt and olive oil for a tasty salad (eat it with toasted pain au levain). I'm enchanted by the idea of making pesto with them like Sarah Gilbert has done.

How do you use green garlic?

I grew up with a Salton, five-cup yogurt maker. As far back as I can remember, it was always tucked into the back of one of the kitchen cabinets. However, it never got much use during my childhood, as it was more of a relic from my mom's earlier, pre-children, hippie days than an active appliance. When I was 9 or 10 years old, at a moment when we were in need of drinking glasses, she cannibalized the yogurt maker, and pressed the milk glass cups into service around the dinner table. We continued to use them that way for years (I think that my mom even picked up a second yogurt maker at a thrift store at one point, just for the glasses).

Three or four years ago, I happened across a similar yogurt maker at a thrift store. I bought it, despite the fact that I had no active interest in making my own yogurt and my kitchen was already woefully overstocked. I tucked it up on top of my kitchen cabinets and didn't touch it again until last week.

For some reason, I have coffee on the brain today and so decided to search for coffee pictures in the Slashfood pool. I found lots of fantastic pictures of cakes and pastries infused with coffee flavors, but this image by Sarah Gilbert, an occasional Slashfood contributor, captured my attention most of all.

Sarah has been writing for Culinate recently, expressing her passion for food and the experiences she has as she tries to feed herself and her family a more sustainable and local diet. Her most recent piece is about her process making sourdough starter from scratch. If you haven't been following her writing over there, you should definitely check it out, as her enthusiasm for food, eating and cooking is contagious and inspiring.

Saturday morning I met up with sometimes Slashfooder Sarah Gilbert and her youngest son at the Portland Farmers Market. It was cold and rainy (normal for this time of year in Portland) but that didn't stop us from first taking a loop of the whole market to see what was being offered before starting to buy in earnest. It was the first time I've been to this market and I was totally awed by what I found. I thought that we were doing pretty well in Philly with our Headhouse Square Market, but Portland had put us totally to shame.

I tried to be restrained in my buying, knowing that my mom had already the bulk of the holiday food shopping and I won't have that many opportunities to cook before I head back to Philly on the 29th, but I still managed to fill the reusable bag I brought with me and spend around $20 on some of the most gorgeous produce I've seen in a while. I was particularly taken by the mountain of turnips you see above. There was something about the freshness and sheer abundance that seemed to embody the best qualities of a farmers market.

Sadly, it was the last Saturday for the Portland market until spring. Thankfully, it will be open again when I get out this way again during the summer. I can't wait!

We're cooking Gardiane La Camargue, French beef stew in the style of the cowboys Francais in the Camargue, south of Arles. The dish is from Patricia Wells' Bistro Cooking. Yesterday we cut the meat into 3- or 4-ounce pieces and prepped the carrots, onions and garlic before mixing it all together for an overnight marinade. Then, we drained the beef, reserving the marinade, and heated up oil in a pan. Then, I started browning the beef. Finally, I added in herbs and (whoops) the wrong kind of olives. Then I started to simmer.

I picked up my lid about 30 minutes ago and the mixture hadn't even started bubbling yet. It was just... resting, warmly. I turned up the heat and now it's actually simmering. I'm headed out to get those oil-cured olives! I think I'm going to get some couscous as a side dish, that seems appropriate somehow. I'll post a wrap-up when the simmering finally concludes.

We're cooking Gardiane La Camargue, French beef stew in the style of the cowboys Francais in the Camargue, south of Arles. The dish is from Patricia Wells' Bistro Cooking. Yesterday we cut the meat into 3- or 4-ounce pieces and prepped the carrots, onions and garlic before mixing it all together for an overnight marinade. Then, we drained the beef, reserving the marinade, and heated up oil in a pan. Then, I started browning the beef. Finally, I added in herbs and (whoops) the wrong kind of olives.

I pick up my wide bowl and start to pour in the wine and vegetables that marinated together with the beef for the last 24 hours. Of course, I somehow start pouring a bit before I make it to the pan. I'm not graceful even on my best of days. I have to use four or five paper towels to sop up the mess.

It's just as well, I decide, because all the wine might not have fit in my pan. That's a lot of beef, carrots, onions and wine. I set the heat to medium-low and put my big cast-iron lid on cockeyed. The smell of wine quickly permeates my home, mixing with the smell of browned beef. It's a bit overpowering, and makes me wonder how those French bistro chefs make it through their days without being a bit tipsy from the aroma alone. It's supposed to simmer for two hours? It's going to be a late dinner.  Next time I'm starting a lot earlier.

We're cooking Gardiane La Camargue, French beef stew in the style of the cowboys Francais in the Camargue, south of Arles. The dish is from Patricia Wells' Bistro Cooking. Yesterday we cut the meat into 3- or 4-ounce pieces and prepped the carrots, onions and garlic before mixing it all together for an overnight marinade. Then, we drained the beef, reserving the marinade, and heated up oil in a pan. Then, I started browning the beef.

It takes me a long time to brown all the beef, even in my huge cast-iron pan. I need three batches and each one takes me 10 or 12 minutes to get browned on all sides. My final batch gets pretty brown because my son begs me to play ball with him in his room. No matter, it will all even out in the end.

I start to sprinkle in my herbs; thyme and bay leaves; and can't find the thyme, so just throw in a handful of Italian seasoning that includes basil, thyme and marjoram, hoping that the basil flavor will just cook away (thyme and rosemary are the rare spicese that actually hold up to long cooking times, I've learned). I add the bay and then get ready to toss in the olives.

Uh-oh. I've somehow misread the recipe. Instead of buying oil-cured olives, I bought Nicoise olives, decidedly different (but, umm, still French? does that count?). I decide to put in about a half-cup and pick up some oil-cured olives while my stew is simmering.

We're cooking Gardiane La Camargue, French beef stew in the style of the cowboys Francais in the Camargue, south of Arles. The dish is from Patricia Wells' Bistro Cooking. Yesterday we cut the meat into 3- or 4-ounce pieces and prepped the carrots, onions and garlic before mixing it all together for an overnight marinade. Then, we drained the beef, reserving the marinade, and heated up oil in a pan.

Wow. Those beef chunks have taken on a decidedly wine-colored hue after resting all day in their French table wine marinade. Some of them are purple-brown instead of red. I test my pan to make sure it's hot by letting a few drops of marinade splatter in the pan. I get a satisfying sputter from the hot oil, so I add in several pieces of beef, taking care not to crowd them.

We're cooking Gardiane La Camargue, French beef stew in the style of the cowboys Francais in the Camargue, south of Arles. The dish is from Patricia Wells' Bistro Cooking. Yesterday we cut the meat into 3- or 4-ounce pieces and prepped the carrots, onions and garlic before mixing it all together for an overnight marinade.

I opened my fridge and there it was! My well-marinated beef. All that I have to do now is throw it in a pot and cook it. Right? Whoops. There's a bunch to do today.

First, I need to let it come to room temperature. Given the fact that my three-year-old had to visit the doctor (ear infection), I really don't have time. So I'm going to skip that step and just give the meat as much "rest" as the time it takes to drain.

I set my beef chunks in a colander to drain, reserving the marinade ingredients in their big bowl, while I heated up my very favorite pan: a 12-inch cast-iron skillet. The instructions say to use two tablespoons of olive oil, and I just let the bottle do a few glugs until it seems as if my saucepan bottom is well-covered.