Cranberry Crostini

November and the dark that comes with it. The time change happened this week — the clocks going back, the four o'clock dark arriving without warning for people who weren't paying attention. I've been paying attention. After thirty-eight Novembers on a Vermont farm you know what's coming and you arrange yourself accordingly: more lamp light in the morning, the radio on earlier, longer cooking times that fill the house with warm smells through the short afternoon.

Made a cassoulet this week. The third time I've made it, the best result yet. The duck confit I'd done in October, the proper Toulouse-style sausage from a butcher in Burlington that Carol found and recommended, the white beans soaked overnight. Two days of work for six portions of something that improves for days. I ate one bowl standing at the stove — the cook's portion, the one you eat before you decide if it's ready to serve — and it was ready.

Thanksgiving is two weeks away. The plan has been confirmed: Carol and I drive to Connecticut on Wednesday, stay through the weekend, drive back Saturday. Sarah has the menu organized and has been taking calls from Jim's mother Barbara about the logistics of the Danish pastry, which will apparently require a specific kind of pan that neither of them owns. I told Sarah: let Barbara bring the pan. She said: I'm going to let Barbara bring the pan.

Called Ted Marchand on Sunday. He's going to his daughter's in Burlington for Thanksgiving — first time in two years. He sounded pleased in the particular way of someone who has been careful not to let his expectations get too high. I said: go and enjoy it. He said: I intend to.

The cassoulet took two days and will last most of the week — that kind of cooking earns its place. But Thanksgiving is coming, and Carol and I will be guests in Sarah’s house, not cooks in our own, which means thinking about what to bring rather than what to make. A cranberry crostini is exactly right for that moment: tart and quick and bright, something that cuts through the heaviness of November and travels well in a covered dish on the drive to Connecticut. It’s the kind of thing that requires almost nothing of you but gives back more than you expect.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 8 minutes | Total Time: 18 minutes | Servings: 12 crostini

Ingredients

1 baguette, sliced into 1/2-inch rounds (about 12 slices)
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 oz cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup whole-berry cranberry sauce (homemade or good-quality store-bought)
1/4 cup crumbled goat cheese or blue cheese
2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary or thyme
1 tablespoon honey, for drizzling
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Toast the bread. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Arrange the baguette slices in a single layer on a baking sheet and brush each lightly with olive oil. Bake for 6–8 minutes, until the edges are golden and the tops are just crisp. Remove and let cool for a few minutes.
Spread the base. Using a small offset spatula or the back of a spoon, spread a thin, even layer of softened cream cheese across each toasted round. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
Add the cranberry. Spoon about 1 tablespoon of cranberry sauce onto each crostini, spreading gently so it covers most of the cream cheese without spilling over the edges.
Finish with cheese and herbs. Scatter crumbled goat cheese or blue cheese evenly over the topped crostini. Sprinkle with chopped rosemary or thyme.
Drizzle and serve. Drizzle honey lightly over the assembled crostini just before serving. Arrange on a platter and serve at room temperature. These hold well for up to an hour before the bread begins to soften.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cranberry Crostini — Something Simple to Carry Into the Holiday