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.

"
Michelle zests blood oranges into her brand-new Cuisinart, a Christmas present.
...I am not alone among food bloggers. I do not yet have my showplace kitchen... Yet our kitchen is still the heart of our home, as it is for so many other good cooks and gourmands who have not yet come into the riches they so deserve, the riches that will fund a fabulous kitchen makeover one day. So it occurred to me that this is something to celebrate. Real kitchens, in rented apartments or fixer-uppers or "starter homes" or entry-level condos. The ones that you live and cook in."

This week I visited the kitchen of Michelle of Je Mange la Ville. She was already beginning to bake when I walked in, and the sun had begun to stream through her south-facing kitchen windows. I sat at the counter stool with my lenses and rolls of film and began to soak in the rays and the delicious smells. Could I find art in this normal kitchen, on a comfortable side street in a "transitional" neighborhood in Portland, Oregon?

The rustic look of a handmade truffle belies the smooth perfection that lies beneath. For the inside of the truffle, machination can do nothing to improve upon the human touch. It is that rich chocolate creaminess that we crave, far better than a bar any day. Take two and call me in the morning.

[Arriba truffles from Sahagún Handmade Chocolates photographed at the Portland Farmers Market by Sarah Gilbert.]

Pecorino with peppercorns from the Eastbank Farmer's Market, August.

I didn't keep track, but I must have eaten thousands of dishes in 2005, and tried hundreds of new foods. While I won't admit to how large a percentage "toast with peanut butter" and "breakfast: one cookie, one coffee" were in my personal dietary pie chart, I will offer up some of the unarguable highlights. The following is a photo essay on some things that warmed my stomach oh-so-well in 2005.

Marinated salmon and onion with citrus and cucumber, Tani's Sushi, November.

Crisp, melting, sweet, tangy, citrusy, flavorful, refreshing. One of my favorite dishes in the city.