IT'S THE SEASON when I miss Los Angeles. Latkes just aren't a food I want confined to an eight-day period, but in these parts, I have to settle. Down south, where they have 24-hour Jewish diners (Izzy's Deli on Wilshire being my personal haunt, though I admit I had to Google it to make sure it still exists. Sigh. And then some misguided soul listed its cuisine as American and Caribbean. Caribbean? Since when is matzo ball soup Caribbean? But I digress), the latke, with its delightful handmaidens, sour cream and applesauce, is at my order, 24/7. And don't tell me to get hash browns at Andy's, or Sparky's. That just makes me feel extra-alienated and misunderstood. There are differences, which I've been pondering lately, between the hash brown and the latke. Most salient: for latkes, the potato is shredded, not grated. Shredded means smaller, mushier threads of potato, which creates a more substantial, and cushier, pancake than the long, grated strings of potato that go into hash browns.

I've had potatoes on the brain lately, since I ended up at the Union Square farmers market in Manhattan the day before Thanksgiving, dutifully fulfilling the shopping list my friend had left by my sleeping head that morning. It was definitely potato season in New York. Spuds of all colors, shapes, and sizes. And also many apples, and a cornucopia of romanesco, which I'd always erroneously called broccoflower. Romanesco is the startling and gorgeously green poster child for the Fibonacci spiral. It may be the most beautiful vegetable in existence. But even the romanesco couldn't distract me from potatoes: Where did all these varieties come from? What makes a potato purple? And what's the difference between sweet potatoes, potatoes, and yams? And what exactly is a "new potato"?

By now you're probably thinking this whole column is about potatoes. Actually, I'm saving them for next time. An edible that has a book written about it, subtitled "How the Humble Spud Rescued the Western World," deserves our undivided attention.

I asked a (vegan) friend what she was doing for Thanksgiving. She replied she was going north to a certain farm, with a cousin, to pet rescued farm animals, feed turkeys, and eat a scrumptious vegan meal. Thanksgiving has passed, but turkeys are still being eaten; 45 million are slaughtered annually for Thanksgiving and 22 million more for Christmas, according to the Farm Sanctuary Web site (www.farmsanctuary.org). The Farm Sanctuary has been in the news lately, as it's at the forefront of the campaign to ban foie gras. It has two locations: a 300-acre farm in Orland (about 100 miles north of Sacramento) and a 175-acre farm in upstate New York. Tours of the California farm are available April through November.

In addition to the Thanksgiving-time "Celebration for the Turkeys," the Farm Sanctuary offers an adopt-a-turkey program. Looking for that last-minute gift for your rebellious niece? Want to make a statement to the whole family? Each adoption sets you back a mere $20. And you don't actually have to provide a home for the turkey. It's kind of like those sponsor-a-child programs that were popular in the 1980s; as the "adopter," you get a color photo of "your" turkey, an adoption certificate, and a yearlong subscription to the Farm Sanctuary newsletter. You even get to choose your adoptee from an array of photographed turkeys when you adopt online! I'm having a hard time choosing between Abraham, who has an incredible wattle, and Cinnamon, whose long neck makes her resemble a turkey supermodel. Monthly sponsorships are available, if you'd like to be able to visit your turkey anytime. If a turkey doesn't titillate you, consider sponsoring a goat, a cow, a pig, or a number of other farm animals. Qualified adopters can even adopt an animal to take home – actually, though, you're required to adopt in pairs of the same species. I don't think you have to be a certified vegetarian to adopt, but you no doubt have to sign something pledging not to eat the critters.

But let's say you also want to have a turkey, or maybe a duck or a goose, or a ham on your table this "holiday season." You still make choices about the kind of farming and animal treatment you choose to support with your cash. I must admit I felt pretty good lugging home an organic, free-range turkey that had been brining in an herbed concoction for two to three days at my friend's catering/restaurant job in Chelsea Market. It's true what they say: brining really does do wonders for turkey meat. That righteously raised bird was succulent and moist beyond any expectation. Whatever you choose to eat for the various holidays this year, put your money where your mouth is and support better farming practices.

E-mail Masha Gutkin at lydialeapfrog@yahoo.com.