I'm from California, and I am still easily impressed by some of New York's wonders. Take fall, for example. It came on Friday, maybe Saturday -- snap! Just like that. Like somebody just flipped the fall switch. Like we were on a crowded subway train, and as we pulled into the station, fall just snatched summer's still warm seat from right under our noses. And I went from wishing the berries, peaches and tomatoes could last 4ever to remembering, hey, you know, I miss the taste of hot coffee. And cinnamon sugar. And won't that walk be nice tomorrow?

Tonight, I made a late dinner of a cold roasted sweet potato. I ate it on the subway on the ride home, its skin and flesh the colors of New England autumn and the D train. I enjoy these kinds of selfish/monastic meals most in the fall. I'm not in a rush to go from summer's sensual bounty to winter's sluggish fat padding. I'm just taking a break and fortifying myself for the long haul, thank you very much.