Nothing quite prepares you for New England’s fall foliage. Here and there along stretches of the highway, you can see strikingly brilliant red leaves, interspersed with shades of yellow and orange. One area for 'leaf-peeping' on the locals' radar is Lake Winnipesaukee. Found in New Hampshire, Lake Winnipesaukee is a popular destination for summer retreats. In autumn, the fall colours are quite something else. 

Many idyllic small resort towns dot the landscape surrounding the lake (Please don't make me type out Winnipesaukee again), and the numerous places for photography makes the trip a worthwhile one, even if it is the next state over. 

We visited the Winnipesaukee Scenic Railroad, snacked by the lake, ate some of the best ice cream I've had over at Kellerhaus Ice Cream, and caught the sunset at Abenaki Tower. I've had a blast going a circuit around the lake, driving past the most beautiful fall scenery. 

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Even in the suburbs itself, incredible fall colours can also be seen. Just a quick drive away is the Minuteman Historical National Park. Along this stretch of the land, the first armed conflict of the American Revolution raged between the Colonials and the British forces. The annual Patriots' Day commemorates their fight for independence every April, with reenactments of the key events of the battle.

  

There are a few hiking trails in the area, and we spent a pleasant afternoon exploring the area. 

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Near the tail end of my Boston trip, we made a spur-of-the-moment trip to Shelburne Farm, and that was  one of the best part of my trip. Fall season brings with it the annual harvest of apples and pumpkins, and there's no shortage of either in this farm.

The minute I walked in, I knew I was in for something wonderful. As we approached the orchard, there’s a sweet apple scent in the chilly autumn air that only got stronger as we got closer. The apple farm produces a couple dozens of varieties of apples, and we could pick any that catches our eyes. We were given a cloth bag to collect our apples, but between the seven of us, we hauled back a giant IKEA bag filled of apples by the end of it. 

Unlike the rest of the rubes who picked apples willy-nilly, I went in with a clear apple-picking strategy, one that had been refined from my years of berry picking in Melbourne. I ignore the appearance of the fruits, no matter how and red and enticing they look (and believe me, they pretty much all looked great.) I just sample the apples as I walk through the orchard, until I come to a tree that produces particularly sweet apples, then I try to pick that tree clean:)

I could scarcely believe how much apples they were growing. Apples were produced here in such abundance, it seems that there were more apples than anyone knows what to do with. For every one apple that we picked, there must have been hundreds lying on the ground under the trees. After we finally brought in our apple haul, I spotted they were also selling apple donuts and apple cider (both hot and chilled). And out of their unassuming shed, I’ve eaten the best donuts in my life - not a hyperbole. Their apple cider donuts had a beautifully crisp exterior and a soft pillowy interior, and generously powdered with cinnamon and granulated sugar. We ate a dozen of their intensely-fragrant cider donuts between us, and washed it down with mugs of apple cider. 

Playground made from repurposed farming equipment

I went for a hayride with my nephew and niece, which involves sitting on bales of hay at the back of a pickup trailer as it meanders through the farmland. This ride brought me past the most beautiful autumn colours that I'd seen. It was plenty of fun, and sitting on hay, as my niece and nephew informed solemnly, was much more pleasant while you have on thick clothing on at this time of the year than while you're wearing shorts in the summer. 

Shelburne Farm, a truly magical place

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The apples sat in the living room, with the sweet fragrance of just-picked apples waffling to all corners of the house, smelling like yellow sunshine, fallen leaves and the turning of the season.

As it turns out, we picked and brought back about 10 kilos of apples. But no fret, because I had the perfect dessert in mind: there's nothing quite as American as apple pie. I tried three different recipes: from David Lebovitz, Jacques Pépin, and Bill Yosses. The chilly weather makes rolling out dough easy as … pie. I'd not tried any of the recipes beforehand, but with a dosing of good ol' American optimism, I went against all common wisdom and doubled the amount of dough I was making for all three of the recipes (don’t be like me). But I figured, since I I had to measure out all these ingredients and knead the dough together anyway, so why not make twice as much, and freeze the other halves for use at a later date? Lady Luck is on our side this holiday, all went along quite smoothly. And the second set of dough sure came in handy, when I whipped up an apple pie for breakfast using leftover filling and dough one weekend morning. Fresh apple pie, all day everyday, available on demand. 

We spent a lot of time in my sister's kitchen throughout my holiday, which was a joy to work in. It was chilly enough, where mulled wine was a perfect accompaniment at night. The immense quantities of short ribs that we hauled back from our frequent Costco trips made great Sticky Spare Ribs, which I’d braised the previous day and finished into a glaze over a fire. The spare ribs went fantastically with Ashley Pooles’ Mac and Cheese; I did this mac and cheese true to form with no alterations - heavy cream, broiler on, the whole works. It's truly the best mac and cheese that I had. 

And I wouldn't have been able to say that I came to Boston if I hadn't taken every opportunity to indulge in its fresh seafood. I ate my fill of freshly steamed lobsters over the weeks. Lobsters at Market Basket were going for $8 a pound, or roughly $10 each. We ate lobsters several times a week, and each lobster was just as juicy and fragrant as the last. Unlike my California trip where I clocked in ample amounts of fast food (I wanted to try every fast food chain once), I didn't go to any in Boston. When each lobster costs just as much as a McDonalds meal, it's hard to justify stepping foot into a fast food restaurant. 

A day without desserts is a wasted day. There’s a huge Italian community in Boston, as Italian immigrants have settled in Boston since the 1800s. Today, North End remains a significant Italian enclave, and all the best food that the Italian cuisine has to offer. On the days that we were in the city, we would pick up boxes of cannoli and Italian sweets from Mike’s Pastry and Modern Pastry, which makes some of Boston’s best cannolis. Every flavour of cannoli that I’ve had from them were delightful, with a shattering pastry shell and a cold ricotta-filled interior. Mike’s Pastry’s fluorentine cannoli, made with a sweet lace-like fluorentine cookie instead of the standard cannoli pastry, was a particular delight.

Like clockwork, we prep a nightly cheese platter for after the kids have been put to bed. We paired our nightly platter with Costco wine (like the wine connoisseurs that we are), and also anything that we could scourge up, such as fruits and biscuits (also from Costco), cured meats from Italian delis, local beers and once, a half-eaten apple pie. 

A particular memorable occasion one supper was a blind-tasting of the whiskies from the "Travel-size" section of a liquor shop, which sent the best of us groping for our cups of water. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been quite so adventurous, although it was interesting to compare how the composition of grains in the mash bill affects the final outcome from the same maker. Bourbon, with its slight notes of sweetness, came mainly from corn. Wheat was surprisingly smooth and easier to drink, while the rye was particularly harsh.

It was a dream holiday, and before I was ready to say goodbye, it was already time to go. 

The joy of visiting the US in October means you get to partake in Halloween, and I for one am all for it. What’s not to like it about candies and chocolate, spooky-fun decorations and dressing up? 

This was my year to do everything Halloween: I wanted to go trick or treating of course, but also, I wanted to visit Salem, dress up and take pictures of our Halloween costumes, and carve a pumpkin. With a can-do attitude and an a great sister (and brother-in-law!) that indulged in all my whims for the holiday, we did all of these, and more. 

We had a couple of road trips planned, but for Halloween, the town of Salem is the it place to be. Salem's macabre past makes it a Halloween mecca; just the weekend before our visit in mid-October, out-of-town tourists outnumber the town's population three-to-one. 

Welcome Center: No Entry. Go away, peasants.

The history of this town is a tragic one. Salem in 1692 was gripped in the midst of a brewing supernatural hysteria. The niece and daughter of the village minister, the Reverend Samuel Parris, were behaving indecorously for good Puritan girls. They were shrieking, running around, going into convulsions and alternating between barking like a dog and purring like a cat. He sought the help of the village doctor who made a damning diagnosis: witchcraft. 

In that era, it was dangerous to be diagnosed with this affliction. One may have been an innocent martyr afflicted by a curse from a witch, or this could just as easily be a manifestation of their own guilty dealings with the Devil. The teenage girls pointed their fingers towards three unpopular elderly ladies in the village, claiming that they had seen their apparitions before their fits. It was just the testimonial the village minister needed to absolve his kin and to instead string up the unfortunate three.

When other girls started developing similar symptoms, the hunt for other witches continued. Notably, many of the accusers came from the Putnam family, and their accused had run afoul of them in some way before. Leaders of the witch hunt were ecstatic with the numbers of “witches” that they caught; the witches’ presence amongst their flock were doubtlessly proof that the Puritans was God’s chosen people, after all, why else would the Devil had seek to beguile their people so? The more witches they found, surely, the more righteousness their lifestyle was.

Several townspeople criticised the trials, but they too were cast as witches and were hanged in turn. There was no end to this horrific miscarriage of justice, until one fateful day, the governor's wife was accused of being a witch. That prompted the governor to finally step in to put to an end to the madness. But the damage was done. Over two hundred people had been imprisoned; twenty innocent people had been executed and at least five others had died under interrogation. The last words of several victims were recorded, with many protesting their innocence to their dying breath.

Dorothy Good was 4 years old when she was arrested for being a witch. Her younger sister, less than a year old, was similarly accused, imprisoned and subsequently died in jail. Two dogs were also convicted and killed. The wantonness of the convictions, the lacklustre allegations that counted as evidence and the brutality of the questionings and executions led to the infamy that is the Salem Witch’s Trials. Accusations of witchcraft may have common, but actually organising trials and executing people for witchcraft had already become “vanishingly rare” in all parts of the world in that era, until these events in Salem.

The dark stain of the town’s history captured the attention of folk culture. Over the years, Salem had leaned into its history and became associated with witches, the supernatural and all things Halloween. Cynics may call this the great American reinvention at work, but I think to Salem’s credit, its willingness to own up to its past is a solid mark in its favour. Their wrongdoings enter the public memory and conversation, and this way, much like the Holocaust, is a mistake that the country had acknowledged and vowed to never repeat. The small town displayed more grace than certain entire nations.

We had a hearty carb-laden diner meal at Red's Sandwich, and pastries at Coffee Time Bake Shop, and left the town of Salem sated and happy. 

Same costume, but clearly much more practised than me :)

Matching cowboy and cowgirl attires

Parents with young children may ask: where the heck can one get the energy to look after four children, prep for a picnic and also do a photography session? Well, as someone who is comfortable navigating his way around a home kitchen, it's time for some real talk: forget cooking for a picnic. There's nothing that you can cook and box up for a picnic that wouldn't taste much better at home. It's much simpler to just stop by a sushi place along the way. Sushi is the ideal picnic food: a sushi platter can be shared, and you can eat a lot more variety of food compared to a burrito or burger), it's healthier, it can be eaten with your hands and is good at any temperature - warm, chilled or at room temperature. So we took it easy and just packed some drinks and snacks and fruits. And that leaves a lot more time and energy for more productive things for the picnic: walking around the park, playing frisbee and (for one particular rambunctious little boy) chasing squirrels. 

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It came as a surprise to me to learn that for all the American fanfare surrounding Halloween, it isn’t a public holiday. On the day itself, my nieces trotted off to school, leaving me to deal with this absolute unit of a pumpkin that we bought from Costco. We meant to carve it much earlier, though my procrastination tendencies meant that we only got around to it on the morning itself. Better late than never; I stuck a knife in my first jack-o-lantern and got to work. A scant couple of hours later, and ta-da!

The malls start celebrating Halloween early in the day, giving out candies to people who are not going to school (think young toddlers and their parents). In the evening, when the shops close up and school-going children return home, marks the start of the actual festival. Homework laid forgotten because of how packed the rest of the evening was. A quick change into our costumes, and we were ready to go. 

The general rule of thumb when trick-or-treating, is that if the lights are on in the house, they're expecting children to come up to the house for candies. And if a house is all decked out with flashing lights, fog machines, laser light display, dozens of moving mannequins (each section with its own music theme, like a Disneyland ride), and even a guy lying in wait in an army Ghillie suit? They'll be giving out full-sized candy bars. 

It truly was an over-the-top experience, and everything that I thought Halloween would be.