Autumn in New England 2022: The Fall Colours and What We Ate (Part 3)

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.