"Hunting the Cotaco Creek" by Charles Gigna + Butternut-Leek Soup from Whole Larder Love

Disclaimer: I was given an advance copy of this cookbook for the purposes of a review. All opinions are my own.

I've just emerged from being transported to a way of life and way of cooking that, living in an urban city, seems almost entirely out of reach. At first, I wondered if I'd be able to connect with the recipes. I don't hunt quail, kill my own chickens, or cure my own prosciutto. But Rohan Anderson doesn't mind if you're a city-dweller. Instead, he's just trying to nudge us all into a direction of eating more locally, sustainably, and getting off the hamster wheel.

"For many of us, life is jammed with rush, noise, convenience, and stress. There is little time left for contact with the natural world... Why are we living like this? Never in our history have we been so well off, yet living such poor quality lives. Is this all there is? Surely not." -Rohan Anderson

"Tomato Pies, 25 Cents" by Grace Cavalieri + Margherita Pizza

**In case you missed my announcement, Eat This Poem now has a newsletter! The Right Brains Society a digital club for creative-types. Stop by to join, and you'll get letters from me in the mail!

Andrew and I just had two cases of Zinfandel shipped to us from one of our wine clubs. You know, house wine for the holiday season... Obviously, we needed to test a bottle or two before serving it to our family and friends, so pizza night was in full force. And it got me thinking. Isn't pizza one of those quintessential childhood foods? So many memories of mine include dough, cheese, and red sauce. Pizza parties after soccer games. Ordering Little Caesars pizza every Monday night when my dad was teaching at the university. Sharing a pie at Woodstock's with my college roommates. Then I picked up the pre-made dough and sauce at Trader Joe's while my cooking muscles were still flexing. Today, there are gourmet pizza restaurants in every city, which I love, but making pizza at home is one of great pleasures of home cooking, I think. It's really not to be missed.

Objects Are Like a Mirror Held Up + Shepherd's Pie with Sweet Potatoes

I've had the same keychain for the past 12 years. I received it a few months after turning 18, when I accepted a job to be a lifeguard at my local pool the summer before I left for college. A lifeguard has a few things to carry around at all times, and the red rubber keychain fit around my wrist, keeping my hands free but the pool keys close by. After the summer ended, I put the rest of my keys on it. The key to my dorm room, the car (a white Datsun 280ZX) that I left at home, and the key to my parents house. Then just last week I really looked at it and realized how much time had gone by.

Objects do that. They just live with us, day in and day out, and never change. You might not give the ceramic bowl or shell on the shelf any thought, but then one afternoon you walk, tilt your head, and all the history hits you. How long has that dusty frame been there? What did your my look like when I picked up the shell from Moonstone Beach and tucked it into my purse. Why do I still have high school t-shirts wrinkled in the bottom of my dresser drawer? Suddenly, objects are like a mirror held up, reflecting a version of our former selves.