As it’s been our tradition the last few years, we gathered with dear friends, neighbors and perfect strangers to watch the explosions in the sky over Prospect Park – Brooklyn’s version of the ball drop. It was a fine show on a cold and clear end-of-year night, but it wasn’t punctuated with that powerful punch of chaotic bursts.

Slightly disappointed, the chilly onlookers began heading back to their homes, but just as we’d turned our backs on the park, the sky erupted with a burst of pops and flares – a delayed, but no less daring grand finale to the year. Just when we thought it was over it wasn’t – there was still some magic left to be had. I thought that a fitting way to end 2104, a year heavy with loss, a year which reminded me to be more conscious about remaining open the good surprises and unexpected delights, too.

Wishing all clarity, brightness and magic when you least expect it in 2015.

For the past two years we’ve lived in the garden apartment of a sturdy, thoughtfully restored brownstone on one of those quintessential Brooklyn blocks. A leafy stretch where a perfect kick-line of brawny brick homes crowned in regal cornices lead to the park. It’s been a charmed run, and we know it.

We’ve been lucky enough to have more than landlords living above us, but friends, too. Even if we are an unlikely match. Us: hailing from the Midwest, writers and vaguely Christian. Them: Russian-born immigrants who are doctors and Jewish. There’s a sitcom in there somewhere, complete with an episode where the parents come downstairs to raid the honey baked ham and shrimp cocktail we had on offer at our Christmas Eve party.

We share the usual neighborly provisions of sugar or eggs, and we watch one another’s children in a pinch. Having doctors on call was helpful when our toddler took a temple-leading leap into a coffee table. And they appreciated help from an in-house editor to review speeches for their oldest son’s bar mitzvah.

Beyond that though, the above shots are a glimpse at just how much we’ve blended lives and learned from one another’s stories, traditions and cultures. One holiday evening we lit the Christmas pyramid and two menorahs in the window as we discussed the significance behind those stories and the importance of light. We popped open Christmas crackers (a UK tradition) and swapped the silly jokes inside as we passed around plates of latkes (three glorious kinds), pickles, Russian herring salad and my new favorite: pirozhki.

And despite the fact that the house is being sold and we’ll all be moving, I hope that we can make this gathering a holiday tradition for years to come….

People brought their A-game. I contributed a savory tomato and zucchini pie (a recipe I’d share, but it needs some perfecting). My offering, however, was no match for the rhubarb beauty with ribbons of doughy latticework; a thick egg and kale quiche; the wild blueberry with a buttery crumble top; a delicate apple galette, a bacon, egg and onion dish or the layered coconut number that I sadly didn’t even have room for after sampling most of the others.

It was an excellent way to spend the first official chill-in-the-air fall day here in New York, and I’ll be practicing my technique for the winter session.

Exchanging a dozen of your fresh eggs for a jar of your neighbor’s honey was once standard practice in small towns and rural communities. This friendly and practical barter of goods is now experiencing a revival in cities across the country by like-minded food enthusiasts through highly organized food swaps. BK Swappers, founded in 2010, is one such group that my dear friend and fearless-home-cook, Jane Lerner is behind.

I got in on the action last month, and discovered how this pantry-stocking-swap works. First, you have to show up with something to trade, and everyone brings up to 10 jars, bags, bottles or tins of whatever they’ve preserved, pickled, baked or stirred up. This being my first swap, I went with a safe bet and just made a giant batch of spiced nuts. However, this event is not for those shy around the kitchen – there was kimchi stuffed sausage, Meyer lemon limoncello and orange bitters in amber-hued tincture bottles, to name a few items.

Everyone snags a space to display their wares. They also fill out a swap sheet with a description of their goodies, and then others can write in a proposed trade for your treat (for example: My jar of Sichuan chili pepper oil for your bacon-infused vodka). Trick of the trade: having a little tasting sample set out to entice fellow swappers.

It’s a very social affair. In addition to all the nibbles on the swap table, people bring pot-luck style dishes to share, and one swapper had even set up a knife-sharpening station. Just as if you were at the most delicious (and ambitious) cocktail party ever, folks stand around chatting and clinking beer bottles in-between bites of lavender shortbread or a scoop of pepper-infused jelly. All is casual and friendly… until the call to swap.

This is where things get serious, and a bit hectic. Seasoned swappers circulate quickly to pounce on those chocolate-covered pretzels or tangy pickled Brussels sprouts they’ve been eyeing. The uninitiated (ok, me) hung back and tried their luck after the initial rush. No matter your swap style though, no one walks away empty-handed or without something new and different to try. After all, who couldn’t use a jar of peppery giardiniera or homemade butternut squash butter?

Does your pantry need a spring re-stock? The next BK Swappers event is Thursday, April 24 at the West in Williamsburg. Spaces can be reserved starting this Friday, April 4. Join their mailing list for the full scoop. Happy swapping!

With whipping wind, sideways-falling snow and ice slicks on every block, it’s been important to keep in mind that there will be life after winter. In New York, that also means remembering a tidier time – before sidewalks were hedged with diminutive mount trashmores (complete with Christmas tree husks) covered in snow, ice and slush.

Right now a little bit of sunshine goes a long way, blue sky days are that much better and best of all is when the forecast calls for a chance to leave the house in something other than clunky snow boots. So I’m even more appreciate than ever of the friends who preserved, canned and bottled summer’s sweetness and shared it with us. Our pantry is stocked with bright marmalades and dark fruit jellies that give us hope for the possibility of budding trees, picnics in the park and far less trash on the sidewalk.

Here is my friend Sarah’s recipe for her red currant jelly so you can have your own spot of brightness on a cold day. We’ve been slathering it on toast and mixing it into plain yogurt.

2 pounds currants (washed and stems removed – can be frozen until ready to use)
1 cup sugar

Place the currants in a large pot, add the water (about 1/4-1/2 cup) and sugar (1 cup + to taste, some people so equal parts but I like it more tart than sweet). Cook over medium heat. The currants will start to release all their juice and pop out of their skins. Once you have a more liquified consistency, about 20 minutes, drain the currants over a bowl. I did this using cheesecloth and the help of a mesh strainer. Be careful not to squeeze the cheesecloth or you’ll get more of a cloudy jelly. Once all the liquid has been drained, you can pour into canning jars and process in a water bath (water bath canning instructions here).

Our pals Sara and Andrew never roll up to any event empty-handed. In fact, they are too generous with their gifts of homemade marmalade, sugary cakes and my favorite of their specialties – cranberry shrub. It’s a refreshing way to toast the new year, and here are five ways they suggest to mix up your shrub.

* Pour over ice and top with club soda.
* Mix with sparkling white wine.
* Muddle with an orange slice Then add ice, bourbon and top with club soda.
* Mix equal parts orange juice, tequila and shrub.
* Shake with ice and equal parts shrub, gin, sweet vermouth and strain into a glass.

Oh, and cheers!

Wishing all peace and a good bit of magic, too.

The latter is usually the way those things go over here. But there are those rare moments when I become this resourceful (not wasteful) keeper of the kitchen. And so I had to share this recipe for a lemon buttermilk cake that saved me from dumping the creamy remains of this icebox lurker. 

It’s spongy, lemony and all-around delicious – the only thing I would change is to double up on the glaze. With the dairy-heavy ingredients, I have this vision of this recipe as one handed down between the generations of a farming family. Somewhere out in the Midwest, on a green patchwork of well-tended fields, the creamy batter would be stirred with love and efficiency in a farmhouse kitchen, and placed in a window to cool only just until a small hand couldn’t resist crumbling off a corner any longer.

Agrarian roots or not, this is a darn good cake, and perfect excuse to use the leftover buttermilk taking up space in your fridge.

The towers of dark berries have returned to the farmers market and that calls for berry crumble. I will take chocolate anything over a fruit pie, always. But, there is something about the jumble of raspberries, blackberries and blueberries with that buttery oatmeal cookie-like topping that I can’t pass up this time of year. Oh, and it’s super easy to make too, which only helps the cause.

Ingredients:

1 cup blueberries
1 cup blackberries
1 cup raspberries
1/4 cup sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2/3 cup flour
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
6 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
3/4 cup old-fashioned oats

Preheat oven to 375°. Adjust oven rack to upper third. Rinse and drain berries. Toss berries with sugar, lemon juice, and 2 tsp. flour and pour into 9″ glass pie plate. In medium bowl, blend remaining flour, brown sugar, butter, cinnamon, nutmeg and oats with fingers until crumbly. Sprinkle topping over berries. Bake 30 to 35 minutes until fruit is bubbly and top is browned. Serve warm with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.