With the turning of the new year, House Special is going into hibernation. Fortunately, we’ve salted away a pretty solid back catalog of recipes and party ideas. Over the past few months, we’ve concocted cocktails, learned how to pair wine with vegetarian meals and everything else, cribbed a spaghetti dish from Isaac Mizrahi, picked up cheese and chile educations, mixed tempeh and tequila, figured out how to make our apartments look less like urban wastelands, and infiltrated the cocktail menu of one of New York’s best bars. Oh, and we’ve made a red velvet cupcake for Megan Fox. Before we prepare our departing toasts, we’ve got a last recipe for the cold months ahead. It comes to us from Brian Di Giorgi, senior sous chef with the Rose Group (Guastavino’s and 583 Park Avenue), who sat down with Stephanie Kramer and shared some thoughts about entertaining at home. Happy New Year!

I was home sick from work this week with a nasty virus and nothing but the television to keep me company. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the chance to browse daytime programming, and it’s just as bad as I remember. The only channel I could bear for more than thirty seconds was the Food Network. I dozed off to the soothing sounds of the Barefoot Contessa preparing a silky chocolate cake, and woke in the midst of a fever flash to the sounds of a Southern couple fussing over grilled Cornish hens and lobster mac ‘n’ cheese. What was this? Down Home with the Neelys? I’d never heard of it before but I was instantly hypnotized. “Ohh, honey. I just loooove me some lobster,” cooed Gina, her voice dripping with sugar. “I know, baby,” Patrick drawled back. “Now check this out, y’all...” as he proceeded to brush a sticky orange glaze over the smoking hens. Lordy.

It’s finale week on Project Runway. I’ve watched all six seasons, and the theme that jumps out at me this year is copycatting. Logan copied Althea’s zipper collar. Althea copied Irina’s slouchy sweater sleeves. Irina copied some Coney Island artwork. (Carol Hannah hasn’t copied, but she just makes boring dress-dresses anyway.) I understand when you spend all day every day in the same room with people they’re going to rub off on you, but you have to do a little self-editing. If you repeat what the person next to you did last week, you have to expect to be called on it. Personally, I was rooting hard for Gordana. She may not have had that “wow” edge, but her clothes were all so beautifully constructed. She never sent anyone down the runway not looking their best. I thought her final piece looked like a Georgia O’Keeffe.

What's the deal with vodka sauce? I certainly get the whole tomato-cream-parmesan idea, but I never understood what adding vodka is supposed to do for an already deliciously balanced combo. (Not that Patsy’s in midtown doesn’t pull off a pretty mean sauce.) Vodka trades in subtleties. Why waste it on a saucepan? You could be making a martini with that. A little research reveals that vodka sauce first entered our culinary consciousness in the 1980s. More cause for skepticism. Although the kids today may not know it, that whole decade was fraught with bad style choices and overindulgence. It's no surprise that some Reagan-era genius thought it was a good idea to dump half a bottle of vodka into red sauce. Have another line, chef. I've got a recipe and a bottle of Grey Goose and a quest to illuminate a waste of good hooch. I'll make two batches and we'll have ourselves a little taste test.

Last weekend I got a hankering for Thai food. I easily convinced my boyfriend to make the trek to Woodside for the ultimate: Sripraphai. Too bad everyone else in the whole damn city had the same idea. There were a hundred people outside. Hipsters, Thai families, locals in the know. Too hungry to wait, we headed up Roosevelt Avenue and had an amazingly flavorful meal at Zabb Zabb that quenched my thirst for Thai fire. Or maybe not completely quenched, because I’m still thinking about those beautiful steamed mussels with chili and herbs. And the crispy duck salad. Oh man, the crispy duck salad.

Reading over BlackBook’s "Top 10 Meals for Nursing a Hangover" got me thinking of my absolute favorite post-imbibing brunch dish: mini quiche. It may sound like something you'd daintily sup on in madras shorts and a blue Oxford with pinkie finger extended beyond the handle of a porcelain tea cup, but make no mistake. This is a full-on belly bomb, and you can up the ante by adding your choice of tasty mixin's.

It’s not September already. It can’t be. The summer flew by like it always does, and now, despite my best efforts to ignore the signs, fall is just around the corner. The days are shorter and cooler. Baseball is winding down, and football is gearing up. My boyfriend and I are bickering about where to spend Labor Day weekend, and I might capitulate because his team is losing and I feel bad for the poor guy. I’m not a sports-fan kind of girl, but I try to be supportive. When he can’t find anyone better than me to watch the game with, I’ll sit and parrot what the announcers are saying in an attempt to sound like I know what I’m talking about. “He’s really seeing the ball well right now, isn’t he, honey.” We’ve got tickets to watch the Yankees slaughter my sweetie’s team, and strangely, I’m looking forward to it. Mostly I’m excited to see the new stadium; I want to know what all the hullabaloo is about. Are the beers really $10? What kind of snacks do they have?

Farmer’s markets: they’re not just for unbathed hippies and granolas anymore. Uma Thurman shops at the Union Square Greenmarket. So does Adrian Grenier. The city’s top kitchens serve up the bounty as well, thanks to the likes of Alex Guarnaschelli (Butter), Mo Batista and Michael Anthony (Gramercy Tavern), and Wylie Dufresne (wd-50). Right now is the best time of year to be a Greenmarket forager. Harvest is coming in, and celebrity and home chefs alike are taking advantage. I’m hosting a Greenmarket party and asking six guests to bring one item each from their closest farmer’s market. I included a list of the best markets around the city on my Evite, along with categorical guidelines like “protein,” “green vegetable,” “starch,” and “grains.” When everyone arrives, we’ll look at what we’ve got, come up with a menu, and start cooking. And cole slaw is definitely going on the menu.

Only another week until Mad Men returns to AMC, and I am so ready. Cable bill is all paid up, liquor cabinet is freshly stocked, and I even managed to pick up a 60s-style cocktail set at a stoop sale, complete with swizzle stick. I can’t wait to mix up some hooch and kick back with Don Draper as he drinks, smokes, and womanizes his way through season 3. And seriously, how much is Betty Draper going to take before she goes bat-shit insane? AMC’s über-promotion of Mad Men is as stylish and decadent as the show itself; you’ve seen the titillating ads all over the subways and bus stops. You can keep tabs on the cast and watch clips using the Mad Men iPhone app, or create a Mad Men-styled version of yourself on the website and upload it to your Facebook or Twitter. Christina Hendricks, a.k.a. sexpot-cum-secretary Joan Holloway, is doing her promotional part with a recent Esquire shoot that borders on soft porn. If you’re not a fan yet, you will be.

No one's arguing the superiority of our beloved New York, but pockets of coolness are also speckled from coast to coast. Take Austin, for example. Even amid the honkeytonk wasteland of the Lone Star State, interesting things are going on. Award-winning mixologist Bill Norris, who can be found behind the bar at local fave Fino, takes inspiration from his surroundings. He shares some thoughts and a favorite recipe with us, featuring Zirbenz Stone Pine Liqueur of the Alps, an artisanal liqueur derived from the fruit of the arolla pine.