My old census partner, Eva, turned me on to Rossman Farm, what the Brits call a 'fruit & veg' and it's amazing. In New York, 'amazing' is a cliche, but really, let me prove it to you. Yesterday I spent $20.44 and got: 4 big peaches, 4 small avocados, 4 Italian peppers, a clamshell pack of arugula, a bunch each of cilantro, parsley, and basil, a stalk of Brussels sprouts, a giant onion, four foil packs of roasted chestnuts, a pound of asparagus, a yellow summer squash and a zucchini, a pack of alfalfa sprouts, and five big radishes.

Tomorrow I'm making Thanksgiving dinner por deux, my friend Andy who usually comes over is visiting a sick friend in Colorado. So, because Mr. Cantor doesn't care for turkey, here's the menu: "Cheater's Duck Confit", recipe from Anne Burrell, for which I'll pick up three duck legs at Chelsea Market later today (the legs get poised atop an arugula salad), garlic mashed potatoes, stuffing from a box, pumpkin pudding, and heck, maybe I'll prune some of those Brussels sprouts. Oh, and we're starting out with a crudite tray, hence the radishes, squashes and asparagus, with guacamole dip.

Today I'm seeing Mrs. Warren's Profession with Cherry Jones. The seat-filler club has been good to me lately--Sunday I saw La Bete, with an unbelievable performance by Mark Rylance (really, when was the last time you heard speeches in rhymed verse applauded?), last Tuesday Play Dead, a gothic written by Teller that had me shrieking and clutching at the poor woman beside me, two weeks ago Lombardi, which was worth it for, surprisingly, Judith Light's performance as drunken Mrs. Lombardi, and Saturday I'll feed my writing brain with some Pinter.

And my sweetie bought me a bag of roasted chestnuts on 6th Avenue Sunday, so it really is the holiday season in New York!