Rainy days and crisp, fall nights can only mean one thing — it’s time to break out the wassail!  Derived from the Norse phrase “ves heill” or “be in good health,” wassail can be a toast to good health, the alcoholic drink with which one is toasted, or the festive event where drinking and toasting occurs. In my household it’s all about the hot, mulled drink. Yet, for my English ancestors, it was all about the apples. During medieval times the English believed that if they toasted their animals and crops with drink, prosperity would be theirs in the upcoming year. Eventually this tradition focused specifically on apple production with British farmers dousing the roots of their oldest or most prolific apple tree with cider. Some went so far as to place cider-soaked bread in the tree limbs to ward off bad luck and encourage good crops. Others simply sang songs to the health of their trees. All imbibed in the warm, punch-like drink known as wassail. By the 17th century wassailing had moved beyond …

For me one of the best parts of travel is experiencing how and what other cultures eat. When I’m away from home, I try not only to eat like the locals but also to pick up the ingredients needed to cook like them. By the end of a trip I’ve invariably weighed down my bag with hastily jotted recipes, odd cooking pots, rare spices and exotic edibles. Out of the countless things that I’ve dragged through U.S. customs, the warm, zesty zahtar (also spelled za’atar or zaatar) remains a particular favorite. Originating in the Middle East, zahtar is an aromatic herb and spice blend. Its name likely comes from the Arabic word for wild thyme, zaatar. In fact, dried thyme is one of the main ingredients. Ground sumac, sesame seeds and sometimes dried marjoram likewise appear in this seasoning. People use zahtar to spice up an array of foods. Some cooks sprinkle it over labneh, a strained yogurt from the Middle East. Others mix zahtar with olive oil and slather this over breads. Then there …

When I was in my twenties, I became a wishy-washy vegetarian. You know the type — won’t eat meat but still wolfs down cheese; won’t touch roast chicken but has no problem with soup made from chicken stock. Unsurprisingly, my mother was outraged. What infuriated her most was my refusal to eat bacon. ‘How can you eat eggs/pancakes/French toast/waffles without bacon? It’s unheard of.’ In retrospect she should have been pleased that I’d kept eggs in my diet. As one of my main sources of protein, they sustained me far better than a few strips of bacon ever would have. And, yes, even back then I knew that they were high in cholesterol; one large egg contained as much as 213 milligrams. However, the amount of protein, percentage of Vitamins B, D and E, and versatility that they provided far outweighed their downside. Plus, when I withheld the yolks, I still ended up with a darned nice omelet. Regarding eggs, the late author and food historian Alan Davidson said it best: They are ‘. . …