Now's the time for that thrilling late afternoon sunlight, filtered through the faltering apple tree onto the herbs. A crow calls out twice, from deep in the woods to north. Otherwise, it is silent here in the country. There is the threat of frost now. The annuals in the little herb garden have taken on super- intense flavors and watery textures. I will cover them up nights for a while if there is a threat of frost. The thyme thrives, and the sage is more stalwart than ever, reining in its own corner of the garden. They will infuse the wintry fare ahead: roasted root vegs, pumpkin, burnished chickens, rich pasta sauces.

There is basil, adamantly flowering, now acrid and reminiscent of clove and licorice. There is the mysterious, perhaps- toxic rue, with its tiny yellow berries and grand sea-green oval leaves, all meaty and medieval. It guards the garden and enshrouds that stone ram's head, also a guardian. I know not from what evils. The rosemary is most intense and can easily overwhelm and ruin a sauce. The lavender, which now winters over well, is a cloud of silver with a smattering of late, pale blooms. There is a large, industrious bee that has labored here all summer; she labors still at the lavender in the gorgeous waning light. The oregano and tarragon have fought for space all summer and it appears that the Greek oregano has won the battle this year. I no longer feel compelled to control them. It's nice that the cilantro has now become the coriander.

There are the playful and peppery marigolds, guardians in their own right. So many people complain about their pungency but seem not to mind their petals tossed nonchalantly into a salad. It's cheering to ruminate here, observing these tatterdemalion yet trusty herbs. The odd rosemary spike might calm a touch of wintry angst, or a troubled liver; the tarragon and cilantro may keep the cholesterol down; the prodigious sage might forestall the ineluctable aging process, as it once preserved meat for the winter. Plus- they all can transform your dinner into something special. I will leave the sage unpruned this year, as it seems to come back better from its woody, substantive stems, and it provides the chickadees a place in which to hide and play. Summer memories are most bittersweet, perhaps because the endless potential of spring went somehow untapped. But hopefully you will get another stab at it- a long border of red salvia, a small field of borage. Next summer is already on the way, but there are wintry ways to relive this ones generosity. 

Christopher K. makes us lunch on Saturday. He is the best farmer-- his salad greens profoundly flavorful, his many tomato varieties somehow capturing the intense sun of high summer, his late spring peas sweet as candy, but better. (We relished a favorite salad many nights this past May: a couple handfuls of baby spinach, the same amount of fresh peas, tossed with a lemon vinaigrette and sprinkled at the last minute with a good amount of crumbled feta, or our fetiri, feta imbued with Greek oregano and mint. In other, less verdant seasons, blanch some frozen peas briefly, shock them in ice water, and proceed). Chris K. is also a great cook, making food that you really want to eat. He made us glorious panzanelle during August this year. Panzanella, a cucina povera bread salad, was the rage about five years ago, when every East Side trattoria had it on the menu (sometimes at more than 20 dollars a pop. That's uptown for ya). It is the simplest salad, and the most reliant on the quality of its ingredients. Imperatives: ripe, about-to-split-theirseams tomatoes, crusty day- old bread, green-gold olive oil, a good scattering of basil. Such fare must retire for another ten months here, making it all the more savored next August. Till then, we have this wonderful new Pomodorracio Antipasto di pomodoro, tomatoes roasted and preserved with garlic, that is just the ticket if you are craving tomatoes in the dead of winter. Their summer sweetness concentrated, these resinous, expensive little treats are superb with any sheep cheese, bread and olives. They kick up a plate of orrechiette with anchovies and parsley or a toasted focaccia salad with smoked chicken. Use their flavorful oil to dress your salad. Believe me, I have done the research.

We also proudly purvey Buddhapesto now- the best prepared pesto we know. Made with basil from Slack Hollow Farms (during the season, otherwise they source from reputable and sustainable sources out of the area), good olive oil, parsley, and pecorino Romano, it is unctuous, deep emerald and available all year round. Its applications are myriad; don't hesitate to ask for suggestions. We sell out regularly. And, Maria and Greg and family are an utter delight to deal with. 

These autumnal Saturdays, Chris K. slices up his potatoes, anoints them briefly with Casa Pareja olive oil, peppers and sea salts them, centers a sage leaf on each perfect slice, and then roasts them at 425 degrees, laid out on a sheet pan. What a lunch, all gold and crusty and indulgent. (Do you ever roast a few whole peeled shallots along with your potatoes? And then make a potato omelette the next day? I'm just sayin'…) Chris K. serves his potatoes with that exceptional Cal Vals Organic Catsup from Spain. Curiously addictive. You might tweak this potato splurge further with a good sprinkling of Tanna's Tuscan Sea Salt- yet another way to recapture summer's flowers and herbs. We love Tanna, her chutneys, her garam masala, her humor, and the fact that she makes our lives so much easier. (You twisted up any garam masala lately? Or a fig chutney? I rest my case). Flavored salts have become so popular the past few years. We've tried our share, from hither and yon, but this remains our favorite. Sage of Tanna to deëmphasize the florid lavender and piquant garlic with just that- the wintry, brooding depth of sage. Tanna waited a long while to get the right organic garlic for her magic, salty amalgam, and we're glad she did. On potatoes, green beans, your next frittata, any gratin or grilled thing, we love it. We always find a new little nuance, a new little salvo of flavor. Like Coltrane, terrestialized.

Coltrane, for company, all the way to Burlington and back for the annual American Cheese Society throw down at the beginning of August. At Shelburne farms, we spent a couple of hours with the esteemed cheese maker, Brent Seward. Brent is indulgent, patient and generous with his knowledge. His obsession for beautiful cheddar is never didactic. I put on the required hair net and high rubber boots and went into the cheese making room for a spell. I watched as he carefully tended the vat of undulating curds as they developed integuments in their warm, milky bath. All is impeccably clean and white, but with warm smells of fermentation and fecund possibility. I learned plenty about cheddar that blazingly hot August afternoon, gaining new respect for the cheese, but also for those who make it their art. Drew studied with the esteemed Montgomery cheddar people in England, and works at Shelburne now with the head cheese maker Jaime Yturriondobeitia (those delightful Basques!) He expertly knows how to scald the rich (raw) milk, when to add the (vegetarian) rennet, what acidity to look for, when to stop the fermentation, when to add salt. Drew and Jaime's cheddar making is a meticulous process that goes on seven days per week from March though December. All this and so much more at the glorious Shelburne Farm-Estate- a "nonprofit, sustainable environmental education center." Shelburne farms, with Tudor-style stone outbulidings and slate-roofed barns, magnificent Brown Swiss cows crossing a summer pasture at dusk, the seamless tranquility of Lake Champlain at summer's height. Is there such pastoral grandeur elsewhere? Not that I've seen. In the "Breeding Barn" at least three hundred of us cheese mongers and East Coast food nuts gathered on a sultry night to taste the best artisinal Vermont cheeses and comestibles. A grand degustation, for sure. I was able to meet people, face to face, that I have bought cheese from for at least a decade. We found three new cheeses that will be gracing our case this winter. And we savored many old favorites, too, like Vermont Shepherd, Jasper Hill Blue, Willow Hill, Lazy Lady, Crowley. The intricately dovetailed barn interior was hot and crammed with cheese folks and flies, all vying for a taste of the waybeyond- room-temperature offerings. But in Vermont, everyone is affable. Shelburne Cheddar has long been a favorite here, and a lot of folks have been enjoying their two-year-old version with Tanna's Fig and Lemon Chutney. We also have brought in their award winning Smoked Cheddar, which is smoked by the monks over here at the New Skete monastery in Salem. If you happen to be up near Burlington some summer, hang out in Shelburne for a day. Take the horse and wagon farm tour, sample truly world-class cheese; get a baguette at the bakery. Observe the unflappable llamas guarding the pastures, the noisy chickens enjoying the whey from Brent's cheddar making. Watch the lake shimmering serenely. And go to Amandine, the local gourmet store, and pick up all the pistachio macaroons that they have, to devour on the way home. They taste intoxicatingly of pistachios as they deliquesce on your tongue. Pale green, exquisite. Like a dappled afternoon long ago in Paris.

Ask us for our favorite penne and cheddar recipe if you happen to need a new macaroni-and-cheese procedure: the Shelburne suits it perfectly, and always remember that you are worth it. 

We also went down to Old Chatham Sheepherders for the pure pleasure of it. We marveled at the row upon row of perfect, snowy white Camembert in the fastidious ageing rooms, admired the flocks (is there anything sweeter than a baby lamb?) and Shaleena and Will are some of the nicest people we know. They are also devoted to bringing the Northeast their outstanding sheep milk cheeses. The Ewe's Blue has been really en point lately. Try it with the pears that are just coming in. 

Speaking of pears, did you ever just serve a little spire of Parmagiana Reggiano surrounded by some Anjou or Seckel pears? Supply a paring knife. This time of year, it's a spectacular dessert or unique supper. You might try it with our new Australian Parmesan, just for kicks. It has surprised quite a few of our customers in its depth of flavor and crumbly texture. Our Gloria Boudreau has observed that it loses some character when cooked, so just enjoy it with an apple, pear or fresh fig- they are all superb lately. There is only one “king of cheeses” (to this palate) but let's please never get hide-bound….

Look this winter for two new European cheeses that quickly won our hearts: One is Le Fromage de Vigneron, an aged cow milk cheese from Switzerland. It is pleasantly reminiscent of a superb l'Etivaz in its complex taste of summer pastures, and it's bathed in good red wine as it ages. Leave this at room temperature for at least an hour before savoring this fall. Also try La Rossa, a little gem from the Piedmonte. So many of our favorite things come from up that way! It's a robiola- style cheese, soft, runny and complex, wrapped in cherry leaves. Kenezio took to its damp cherry leaf smell and quivering texture, recollecting precisely the smell of good pipe tobacco.

Remember, too, to try those little grilled green Italian olives we've been selling out of every weekend. Recently, near the herb garden, we listened to old Jobim tunes and made a meal of those olives, a wedge of the milky Panarello (another new northern Italian acquisition), a package of our Spanish tortas, and a nostalgic cherry tomato salad. The salad was comprised merely of a quart of Chris K's little Sungold tomatoes, some of his Black Cherry tomatoes, all halved; a little stream of Nunez de Prato EVOO; and a good handful of tiny “Pistou” variety basil, all unified with a smattering of Tanna's Tuscan salt. The tomatoes just this side of over- the- edge, super sweet, hinting of putrescence. A German plum torte, a fragrant brush against the sage. The supper a nod to the end of another summer and its gifts: the annual plum torte, sambas on the still air of twilight, the delight of new laughs and old loves.

Those little olives somehow work with pretty much any savory thing: chopped up in a pasta salad, in a braised chicken dish, whirred up with their oil for an instantaneous tapenade, tossed into Puttanesca, in a bowl beside a chunk of Manchego, etal. They ain't cheap, but we hasten to remind you that you are not payin' for pits. And they are yet another reason to thank the Italians. 

We have two new local sweets to embrace as colder weather sets in, too: April Zhang is making coconut macaroons that rival any we've encountered- all organic, brown, chewy, crusty. Some come dipped in dark chocolate, some do not. Both are exceptional, like everything the Zhangs take on. Their luscious Malt Ganache truffles are back (now that it's possible to dip truffles without losing your composure) and the Baker's Daughter provided our customers with their addictive brownies and Chocolate Decadence cookies all summer. We have also hooked up with Lucky Chocolates, down on route 212 outside Woodstock, at the Lucky Chocolate and Biscuit Shop, where Rae makes all organic and fair trade treats that are really worth the trip. Rae's a very accomplished foodie, bubbling with the humor one acquires in professional kitchens, and I'm looking forward to a tasting at her shop this fall, and to visiting the redoubtable Rick Orlando at New World Home Cooking right up the road. Rae's whimsically-wrapped chocolate bars are grand. The dark bar with nibs is as dark as Madagascar at midnight; the lavender is profoundly infused with that elegant herb, if you need to relax your nerves and titillate your palate; my personal favorite, if I had to choose, would be the specimen with the Spanish candied orange peel. It's like all the dark chocolate and oranges in the world concentrated just for your tongue's delight. And remember all the antioxidant potential, if you need to.

Visit us in the cheese department for a taste of some of these transition-to-winter treats. There might well be a little samba, a laugh or two. Certainly you are welcome to that Cheddar and Penne recipe; that often requested recipe for Romesco sauce; and a recipe for a pear and spinach salad dressed with Vin Cotto. We hope that your gardens sleep well and that your winter meals are nurturing in every way.