Winter comes — and with it some hoary traditions: bleak reports of cold weather, falling leaves, logs ablaze in the fireplace, snow in time for Christmas, presents (and the wrapping thereof), frozen pipes, tire chains, icicles and warm, nay hot food.

For Pascale Beale, brought up by a family of gastronomes in London and in Briançon of the the French Alps, on the Italian border, this season, particularly the sequence of feasts, starting with Christmas Eve dinner, then Christmas breakfast, followed by a long, long late lunch, Boxing Day and, grandest of all, the New Year’s Eve party — feasts of ever-increasing elaboration, conducted by a myriad of rituals — is symbolic of a way of life, a community of shared values in the simple act of sitting down to a hearty meal and a glass of fine wine surrounded by family and friends.

Up in the mountains, the short days and long nights of winter are seemingly always scented with the smell of wood smoke and ‘something’ appetizing, tantalizing, cooking. As they say in France, “Le nez est la boussole du gourmand,” (the nose is the trencherman’s compass!) In this, her fourth seasonal book, Pascale guides us through the feasts and beyond — for it is an oft’ forgotten fact that Christmas comes at the beginning of winter, with spring a long way off. As we delve into her hearty soups, succulent winter stews, and enticing desserts, we are reminded that this is a good time of year to ensconce oneself in the kitchen, relishing her wonderful seasonal foods