There’s a wind blowing and I can feel its chilly breath on my bare toes as it weasels its way through the gaps in our French windows despite the thick draught excluders.  You’re never very far from meteorological elements in an English house.  

This wind curbs my hopeful rowan saplings and buffets the other infant trees on our balcony: the cypresses, the olive tree, the hazelnut and all nine baby oaks grown from last autumn’s acorns.  It ruffles the manes of the tall pines in the distance and lifts the seagulls that surf on its gusts.  Every wind is different and I know this is no ordinary wind.  It’s friendly, but it says, Don’t push me, don’t underestimate me.

It toys with the clouds, chases them, fluffs them up, shoos them off the sun’s face, scatters them, then makes them huddle together again, merging them before separating, sculpting them.

I step out on the balcony and it tousles my hair and pats my face, teasing me, but I know there is a serious message behind its jocular tone.  I throw my head back, close my eyes and open my arms.  If the neighbours don’t like it, they can look at something else.  

Every wind has its own personality and I am always sorry English winds have no names.  They’re just northerly, southerly, westerly, easterly, etc.  Breezes, gales or storms.  Italian and French winds are called scirocco, ponentino, tramontane, mistral, to name but a few.  For want of anything more poetic, let’s call this the autumn equinox wind.  It’s no ordinary wind.  It’s purposeful, encouraging, urging.  It’s time to collect all the pieces of yourself you scattered over the summer, it seems to say.  It’s time to put yourself back together.  Today, when night and day are identical in length, balance your yin and your yang.  Get ready to embrace the darkness that will start growing from tomorrow: like the rich, dark soil, prepare to sow in it all the colours of your imagination.

I’ve always loved this time of year, when autumn, after its shy first steps in early August, comes into its glorious own and tells you that it’s time to start planning, preparing, building.  And, first and foremost, dreaming.  Autumn always feels more like a new start for me than spring.

I stand with my arms open for a few seconds longer, then take a deep breath, let it fill every cell in my body and feel myself becoming whole again. 

Chocolate Notes have just reopened after six weeks of building work to install a larger kitchen.  They will be now serving some more food.  I decide to stop work for the day, in honour of the equinox.  Back from her concert tour, Fiamma is behind the counter, writing the day’s menu in coloured chalk on the glossy blackboard.  Her handwriting is full of swirls.  Jan is wiping the gleaming new counter top.  Pandolfi‘s violin sonatas give fizz to the atmosphere.  

“My favourite!” I say.  “Why does no one ever play Pandolfi live?”

“Because he’s extremely difficult to play and not many people know him,” Fiamma replies, still writing on the board.

“Bah,” I protest, reading the menu.  “Baked eggs with prosciutto and herbs…”

“It’s just the weather for it,” Jan says.  “There’s a chilly wind out there.”

BAKED EGGS WITH PROSCIUTTO AND HERBS

(all measurements are approximate, see https://scribedoll.com/2023/01/15/new-blog-feasts-fancies/)

For this you need an deep-ish earthenware or oven-proof dish, like a large ramekin.

Ingredients (per person):

❧ Two fresh eggs

❧ 1-2 slices Parma ham

❧ Extra-virgin olive oil (or, better, olive oil flavoured with truffles)

❧ Black olives

❧ A small handful of fresh, washed herbs (parsley, tarragon, mint, chives, basil, oregano, thyme or whatever you fancy)

❧ A few spears of asparagus

❧ Carefully washed alfalfa sprouts (optional)

❧Salt and black pepper. 

Oil the bottom of your ramekin,  line it with the Parma ham and break two eggs on top, taking care not to tear the yokes (not a tragedy if you do).  

Add a few olives, a tiny bit of salt (the Parma ham is salty already!) and some black pepper.

Sprinkle with the herbs, finely chopped and drizzle with more oil.

Bake in a moderately hot oven until the egg whites are firm and the yokes are still quite soft (or well done, if you prefer).

Serve with steamed asparagus spears and alfalfa sprouts – or any other accompaniment you prefer.