Most people do it this time of year: Look back at what we accomplished (or didn't) during the past 12 months, and gaze forward into those 365 new promising, mysterious days ahead.

I'm not much on food trend prognostication. I laughed at low-carb and cling to my Krispy Kreme stock. All I will say is that I hope that the "family values" tossed about during the election means more families will value meals at the table together.

Flavors and events are linked. Recalling a soup or dessert brings back the evening and people present like a photograph. Yes, Proust and his madeleines went there first, but anyone who loves food has experienced the same thing.

I can see the otherworldly chocolate-coconut cake a friend created for my husband's 50th birthday, decorated with bunches of grapes fashioned from hand-made chocolate truffles and chocolate grape leaves. Then, I see how everyone stood mesmerized by this cake when it was unveiled, hesitant to plunge in the knife. When my husband did, it was worth it.

Was it around Valentine's Day or my anniversary? I'm not sure of the date, but I still see the tiny jewel of palest purple gelatin on the after-dinner sweets plate at Fearrington House. Lavender flavor, filling my head with giddy perfume, and oh, so romantic.

In May, the first breath of the first plate of steamed clams of an Outer Banks vacation; aromatherapy for instant relaxation.

It was a year of discoveries and delights -- but, isn't every year?

A trip to Puerto Rico underscored that freshness is the most important ingredient in any dish. A mango or papaya here tastes little like one on the island, and the same goes for mojitos. (I wasn't sure which I needed more after the trip, Weight Watchers or AA.)

The best party can be two (or three or four) friends getting together to cook -- in this case, gatherings to make gyoza, Japanese steamed or fried dumplings. The friend leading the way would never call herself a gourmet, but she has the heart of one, always looking for a better twist to flavors.

When she tucked her wrappers around the filling, they were as crisply tailored as haute couture; my first ones looked like a home-ec project gone bad. Fortunately, looks don't necessarily count.

Besides the dumplings, other cooks had hands in two big personal triumphs: edible biscuits and pie crust.

Thanks to encouraging e-mail from a biscuit-baking reader and Shirley Corriher's Touch of Grace Biscuits recipe from her book "CookWise," I now feel like a true Southerner.

Two neighbors let me invite myself to their annual pre-Thanksgiving apple pie baking session. I discovered I was doing pretty much everything wrong in the pie crust department, from the texture of the dough (I was overhandling it) to rolling it out (I was beating it into submission). In the future, I will take a deep breath and think of their cool, competent hands with, I hope, positive results. Perhaps next Thanksgiving, I won't have to convince my guests that, yes, I really did make the pie.

Julia Child's death this year reminded me how much she contributed to -- created, really -- the modern approach to food. She embodied the fundamentals but never stopped learning, or going out on a limb. Like many other food fans, I went back to her books and rediscovered a world blessedly free of trendiness and celebrity, with just good food.

I began using her roasting technique for chicken (15 minutes at 425 degrees, then reducing the heat to 350 degrees for the rest of the cooking time) with much improved results, including more of the coveted crispy skin.

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