The First Taste of Fall
Some seasons announce themselves softly, in scent, in flavor, in the way the light begins to change.
The first sarma of the year is simmering, and with it, fall has officially arrived in my corner of Croatia. The kitchen smells of cabbage leaves, smoked meat, and the slow kind of comfort that comes from food made the same way for generations. It’s a dish that belongs to this season, hearty, familiar, and made to last.
Outside, the orchard has begun to quiet. The quince glow golden in the trees, the air carries a hint of woodsmoke, and the light softens as the days grow shorter. The garden, too, is changing. This week I planted my maćuhice, hardy little pansies that bloom through winter, refusing to surrender to the cold. I love their quiet defiance, their color against the gray, a reminder that beauty doesn’t always wait for spring.
Sarma is much the same, food for the colder months, patient and enduring. I always make enough to freeze, knowing it somehow tastes better after resting awhile. Perhaps that’s what I love most about it. It’s as though time deepens the flavor, the way distance deepens appreciation when I travel.
Soon, I’ll be on the move again, country number 131 (not that I’m counting 😉). It’s a place filled with history and light, a destination I’ve long wanted to experience. But for now, I’m exactly where I should be, in my office and in my kitchen, between orchard and sky, grateful for this beautiful season that reminds me how good it feels to stay still for a while.
Fall has arrived, reminding me that beauty doesn’t always come from what’s new, but from what continues to grow, even in the cold. 🌿