Carrots are a year 'round item at the Hollywood Farmers Market. But this time of year particularly beautiful carrots can be found in an array of colors, sizes and shapes. I love the little round French carrots; so sweet and carroty. They are the perfect size to pop in your mouth like a little carrot bon-bon, and that’s exactly what I do with them.

So this week I chose carrots for my Market Matters post. Not just any carrot however, I chose a variety of the most unusually colored carrots I could find. Because once you get out of the PigglyWiggly you will discover that there is way more to a carrot than orange. There are red carrots, purple ones, even yellow, white, and two-toned varieties.

You needn’t be frightened of these carrots. They are not some mutinized hybrid with a lot of genetic hanky-panky going on. Nope, most of these carrots are heirlooms.

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Cranberries are one of those foods so associated with a particular meal that you seldom (probably never) consider making them except for that particular meal. And I know you know to which meal I allude. Because it is right around the corner.

I have decided to start my week of Thanksgiving recipes with cranberries, because they are essential to the Holiday table. And as promised I am bringing you 2 recipes. One traditional and one a little less expected.

Like I said cranberries tend to find their way to our table during the holidays. They are rightfully a special occasion food because they dress up a plate up like no other dish I can think of. They always look spectacular; they always hold their gorgeous crimson color no matter how tortured they are. Be they overcooked, drained from a can, or just plain neglected, they reward you with a deep ruby red no other food can match.

And it’s not just any red. It is, without a doubt, the most gorgeous shade of red existing in this over-produced Technicolor dream that is modern society.

I want to talk burrata today. Burrata is a soft Italian cheese. It comes in balls similar to mozzarella, but it has a soft interior that oozes around inside its cheesy casing. It is one of the 7 wonders of my culinary world. It’s an Italian cheese and a specialty of Puglia, a smallish region in the heel of Italy's boot. It is as close to perfection as anything that exists.

Though oddly, it is rather new gastronomically speaking. Being an Italian product, you might assume it was part of some ancient cheese making tradition. But actually it is a modern invention. Lorenzo Bianchino Chieppa developed burrata in the 1920s; the source I read says that "[He] had the idea to create a kind of flask of cheese for preserving a mixture of cream and cheese in the center."

Despite it’s might, burrata is not commonly found outside of Puglia, even in Italy. Though it seems, as its popularity here in the United States grows, there has become greater demand for the cheese all over Italy.

This morning at breakfast Ken (my hunky BF) and I were discussing the day. You know, getting the lay of the land for the next 24 hours. All couples do that… Would there be business stuff tonight, or no? Would he be around for dinner or not? The man works and works and works, so I always gotta ask.

He mentioned his day included meeting people for coffee and dessert sometime after 8pm, but dinner at home was on the agenda (goodie, I thought!).

So, (more to myself than anything) I said: “That’s great I have a pound of broccoli florets that need to be eaten while they are still fresh and green.”

To my surprise, he not only heard me but he answered.

He said: “Oh you should make that super lemony, crisp broccoli and garlic salad like we used to get at Fab’s in the valley”.

First off, by “we” he meant he and his old (I mean previous) BF. But I let that pass. After nearly 20 years of coupledom I figure I’d know if he still held a torch for an old flame. No need to be dramatic, though I am perfectly capable of being dramatic if need be.

Of course, the recipe was another story. That I could not be so sure about. I mean, I was working at a disadvantage here, I was not a part of the “we” that “liked” said “broccoli salad”, was I? No I was the “me” that had never had this salad before. Oh, wait... I am getting dramatic. Scale it back, Greg.