Fall 2025 Publisher’s Letter

There’s a lot of terrible stuff going on in America right now. It’s been a steady stream of rotten news, actually—day after day, month after month, since late January. At this point, I think you know how I feel about it. I’m still not sure what we can DO about it, though, but that’s not why we’re here. 

We’re here because once every three-ish months you join me on these pages to learn about local food in Massachusetts and the extraordinary people who feed us, and so that’s where I am going to focus my energy at the moment—on supporting and promoting our growers and cooks, foragers and entrepreneurs, volunteering on farms and in food pantries. Digging into this work feels right, spending time in nature with my hands in the soil and in community with the folks who will, with all our help, keep the Commonwealth’s food system functioning and robust, no matter what happens at the federal level.

Okay, enough of that. On to my dual-garden saga, and the very odd season that was. 

If you planted anything at all this year, you know how it went: May and June were cool and damp, but by mid-July it was hot-hot-hot with high humidity and very little rain. When I arrived in Falmouth for the summer, the beans and sugar snaps I’d planted there in spring were full and lush and laden with blossoms. But a few weeks later the drought had kicked in, the voles had nabbed all my beans and the peas were afflicted with some sort of blight: edible, but ugly. The tomatoes took their sweet time to ripen their very minimal fruit, and although the cucumber vines were strong and productive, I’d planted thick-skinned picklers by mistake, not the glossy snacking cukes I’d wanted. It’s lucky we love pickles.  

But the tarragon! I’ve never seen anything like it. Bushes and bushes of tarragon, blocking out the marjoram, the parsley and rosemary. It just grew and grew and no matter how much I cut, it just kept getting bigger. It went into sautéed corn, chicken and tuna salads, on potatoes and striped bass and melted into butter with beans, its anise-y fragrance scenting just about everything we ate, including the pickles. And still it grew larger! I cut some big branches to dry and bring home so we can crumble it onto steak and stir it into bernaise and I’ll make a few bottles of tarragon vinegar, too. 

Back in Wayland, the spring baby greens I left behind have matured—all on their own—into quite a substantial plot of rainbow chard and curly kale. Bonus! The butternut squash seedling I threw into the garden box in June has grown so large in my absence that it’s taking over the yard, bearing six ginormous fruits and counting. The once-tiny Sungold is now massive and produces more sweet little tomatoes than we can keep up with, which is lucky because the birds and chipmunks love them, too. The raspberry canes are laden with fall fruit and the wildflower seeds I scattered at random have grown into a jungle of color over six feet tall—with cosmos and sunflowers and zinnias thriving in the dryness of the season, alongside an abundance of weeds. For the first time in my dual-garden history, the one I abandoned has turned into a triumph, while the plot right under my nose—aside from the tarragon—was a bust. 

Spending eight glorious summer weeks by the seaside with my family filled my cup to the brim—despite the gardening challenges—but I’m so happy to be home; I’m ready for the change of seasons, for chilly morning hikes under a canopy of fall leaves, for brisk afternoons filled with cider and pre-dinner sunsets. Bring on the winter squash, apple crisps, pots of stew bubbling away on a cold evening. It’s time.

And this beautiful issue has just the recipes for me—and for you! Laura Imhoff celebrates fall with five flavor-packed dishes making the most of the colors and textures of in-season vegetables. Mass Farmers Markets does the same, with three delightful recipes using market fruit and veg created by veteran chef and caterer JJ Gonson. Aidan McGee, chef-patron of The Dubliner, shows off what real Irish cooking can and should be: comforting, country-style food made from the highest quality ingredients. And Bèatrice Peltre reminds us that with a few subtle tweaks you can add more protein to your diet, increasing energy and stamina in all age groups.

This season’s Edible Food Finds bring us all over eastern and Central Mass: to a Sundays-only farmers market in Worcester; a high-styled Vietnamese cafe with locations in Burlington and Somerville; a family-owned cider farm in northern Essex County; a sourdough bakery in Cambridge helmed by a Jordanian baker with a savory sensibility; and a gourmet burger joint in Gloucester tucked inside a popular music venue.

Longtime contributor Margaret LeRoux toured a Worcester mushroom farm providing nutritious fungi through the Southeast Asia Coalition of Central Massachusetts; Celina Colby trekked up to Beverly to see a regenerative farm in transition and hear about its founders’ search for new land. Barefoot Books’ offering this season is based on Ayo’s Adventure, with recipes from across the African diaspora. Alison Moore went inside a prestigious boys’ school in Belmont where an acclaimed chef (and dad) is making positive changes both in the kitchen and the classroom. Cheryl Fenton got the background scoop on Fancypants Bakery from its fabulous founder, Maura Duggan—a baker, entrepreneur, environmentalist and longtime supporter of this magazine. And as fall classes begin, Shayna Scott visited the popular food pantry at a local community college and discovered that even in an affluent city like Boston, students often need help finding their next meal.

This back-to-school season is hitting a little differently for us now, with two kids off to college. By the end of this week, the house will be quieter, the weekends freer and I’ll be missing them desperately. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll have time to tackle that giant tangle of weeds, the best kind of distraction. 

Peace,
Sarah