BOOKS: Massimo Bottura in-person & Never Trust a Skinny Italian Chef

Massimo Bottura is, for a chef who trained, lived, and worked in Italy for many years, like I did -- well, he's a deity. But for me, it's not just because he's a three Michelin star chef, with a CV that includes time working with Ferran Adria' and Alain Ducasse. And it's not because he hangs around with the current culinary hipsters like Rene Redzepi, or Wylie Dufresne and David Chang (both of whom were at the 92nd Street Y event I attended last week: Dufresne in the discussion with Bottura, and Chang in the audience, serving up some friendly heckling). For me, it's more of a big-picture thing. By that I mean that he's an excellent, creative chef who intellectualizes food but is also quite playful. He knows the parameters within which he's working (conservative, traditionalist food culture in Modena, Italy), and he pushes the limits to make these traditionalists reconsider what he's doing with Italian food. He's not the first or only chef to work this way, but he's among the very few who do it well, and successfully. He's also greatly inspired by art in its many forms, and is a great collector of modern art. Hell, he's argued his cooking philosophy with Bob Dylan. In some ways, he's the culinary counterpart to his buddy Maurizio Cattelan -- playful, sometimes cynical, counter-cultural, he strives to change what you think you know about his artistic medium (in this case, food). Bottura even titles his dishes, as if they're opuses -- and indeed they are: edible art.

Take, for example, his "Bollito Not Boiled," which is what he created after much thoughtful consideration of the traditional (northern) Italian dish, bollito misto, which originated in the area of his home town. This is normally a series of different boiled parts of the cow, often including tongue and other "off cuts," served with the broth and a salsa verde (green sauce) and sometimes a number of other condiments like mostarde and various piquant potions. When it's good, it's really good, and when it's not done well, it can be...off-putting, to say the least. But though it made sense centuries ago, economically, to boil meat to get the broth and extend the food for several meals this way, today it's often on menus as a matter of keeping tradition alive. Bottura wanted to challenge this. He'd worked in New York City for a time, and his wife is from New York, so he recreated this most traditional of Italian dishes as an ode to the time he spent in the city's Central Park. So. He takes various cuts of meat and cooks them sous vide to elicit the most flavor and best texture from the meats. He shapes these like little skyscrapers, placing them on the plate with a salsa verde (green sauce) foam for the trees, and a peperonata lawn with little anchovy people on it. It's cute and quirky and sticks to the core flavors of the dish while turning it on its head. He explained this all to us, an audience filled with New Yorkers, and his love of and enthusiasm for this city was clear.

I was lucky enough to meet Bottura in person and have him sign my copy of his book -- in Italian. He was very sweet and laughing and enjoying everything the whole time, which was really refreshing -- especially since he's on a mega book tour, and he's been running around for weeks like a crazy person, with engagements all over New York (cooking with other top chefs from Italy and the U.S. for Eataly NYC's

Identità Golose).

His book, Never Trust a Skinny Italian Chef, is filled with anecdotes about his most famous dishes, and the thought process and technical work that goes into them. It's not a cookbook in the traditional sense. And while I own many cookbooks, I don't read them for their recipes or accuracy in measuring out ingredients, and I don't recommend cookbooks based on these criteria. But I rarely follow recipes. Instead, I look to cookbooks for inspiration, for interesting ingredient pairings, for general procedures if there's some new dish or cooking method I'm trying out. I peruse the stories behind the food, the history of dishes in cultures about which I'm curious, places maybe I've recently visited or am longing to explore. And then I create, based on this information, co-opting it for my purposes, re-working a point of something I found of interest in a recipe or a food story. I realize I am not your average home cook, so if you're looking for practical recipes and time-tested accuracy, look to Mark Bittman or Julia Child, or Nigel Slater, all of whom are fabulous in their own ways. But if you're excited, like I am, to take a peek into the mind of a creative genius, then Bottura's book may interest you. There are recipes in the back for everything, but that's almost besides the point.

I'm loving it so far, though I have more to go. And I am looking forward to devouring some of his iconic dishes on my next Italian sojourn, when I will, per forza, eat in his amazing Trattoria Francescana in Modena. My stomach is already grumbling...

SEASONAL FOODS: All things Orange

It's October -- a lovely month, my birthday month, probably my favorite month of the year. The weather has cooled off from the steamy days of summer, but it's still great weather for walking and exploring the city (or country!). I correlate October with other "O" words, especially ORANGE. When I think of this month and the real beginning of autumn, I think of orange leaves, sunsets, sweaters, brilliant flaming fires in the fireplace, and above all else, delicious orange food. What does orange food offer?

Besides a great variety of delicious fruits and vegetables, many of them seasonal to autumn, orange foods boast carotenoids, which are fat-soluble nutrients that produce the orange, bright yellow, or red color in the foods that contain them. The best known carotenoid is beta carotene, which our bodies convert to Vitamin A when it enters our bloodstream. Orange foods are, on the whole, anti-inflammatory and full of nutrients that fight aging and skin issues, they help sharpen our vision, they aid in weight loss with a high fiber and low caloric content, and often help our digestive and immune systems. They help fight cancers and cardiovascular disease and basically amp up our systems to work at their most efficient. 

Trips to the farm stand this time of year are wonderful: this is when harvests are at their most bountiful, and a stroll through a well-stocked farmer's market provides a sensory explosion (more on this later in my seasonal "MARKETS" blog post). October offers a vast variety of orange and orange-tinged foods, many of which are outlined for you below, along with their key nutritional benefits, and some ideas on dishes to prepare with the excellent orange primary ingredients...

Carrots: Rich in vitamin A, they help ward off various types of cancer, they prevent macular degeneration, slow down cellular aging, and keep skin clear. I love roasting whole baby carrots, tossing them with olive oil and balsamic vinegar or pomegranate molasses and some sea salt, and baking them at 400 degrees until charred on the outside.

Papaya: This fruit is known for the wonders it works on digestive health, and serves as an immunity booster. It also contains digestive enzymes that make all food go down a lot easier. Try it out of hand, or in fruit smoothies. Green papayas are great in Thai salads, though they don't share the same healthful properties as regular papayas.

Butternut squash: This dense, orange squash is high in fiber and potassium, and helps build and preserve bone strength. It's incredibly versatile, and little do most people know, but the canned "pumpkin" sold across America for pumpkin pie? It's really a butternut squash puree. You can oven roast the peeled pieces of the squash for a homemade puree for baking if you're a DIY-type. Or use the roasted butternut in salads with vegetables, grains, and fruits.

You can whip the roasted squash in a food processor to make a topping for crostini, as in the photo here, where I've made many of my clients' fall favorite: butternut squash crostini with crispy pancetta, parmigiano, and sage. You can also boil the peeled butternut squash with some veggie stock until it's soft, and then use an immersion blender to turn it into a healthy and nutritious soup -- no cream needed.

Pumpkin: There are many varieties found across America and Europe, but the typical pumpkin that's good for eating is on the small side and is more squat than round, or cylindrical like the butternut squash. Pumpkin keeps your eyesight sharp, aids in weight loss, and its seeds protect us from heart disease - -and they're a delicious snack when roasted. One of my favorite dishes of the season is pumpkin ravioli (which can also be made with butternut squash), with the roasted puree filling hand-made fresh pasta dough. I cook them simply with a butter and sage sauce, and top with either parmigiano and toasted hazelnuts, or with a crumbling of amaretti cookies to bring out the sweetness of the pumpkin.

And speaking of sweetness, pumpkin sweets are a fabulous way to make desserts a tad healthier in the autumn months. Menus all over are stuffed with pumpkin donuts, pumpkin spice cupcakes and layer cakes, pumpkin panna cotta, and one of my personal favorites, pumpkin cheesecake. The photo at right is dressed with a cinnamon sour cream topping, candied rosemary, sugared pepitas (shelled pumpkin seeds), and pumpkin seed brittle.

Sweet potatoes: These tubers are rich in Vitamin A, which is anti-inflammatory and keeps skin clear. Roasted in the oven is a great, simple way to have them, and peeled and fried is a healthier alternative to french fries. But I love them peeled, grated, and turned into sweet potato latkes. Perhaps it's the innate Jewish mother in me, but I think these savory little pancakes are delicious, especially as I serve them at cocktail parties, with a chipotle sour cream and topped with wasabi caviar. They certainly lend themselves to sweet iterations -- hold the onions in the latke prep, and add a dash of cinnamon instead. Top with homemade apple sauce or pear butter.

Cantaloupe: Though this is mostly a summer melon, you can still find it into the fall. It's high in vitamins A and C, and in beta carotene. It's great on its own, blended as a cold soup, or sliced and wrapped in some prosciutto for a light lunch.

Apricots: These are also mostly a summer stone fruit, but you can sometimes find them into the autumn months, and you can certainly find them dried throughout the year (though obviously sugar content rises in the dried version). This fruit is high in iron, fiber, and potassium. And they work really well both with sweet preparations and as a savory accompaniment to meat and poultry dishes.

I make crostini with ricotta, herbs, and fresh apricots. I use fresh or dried apricots in North African meat tagines and a dish I make that my parents flip for, a Moroccan chicken I make with apricots, almonds, chick peas, and North African spices over couscous. I also do a brined, grilled pork chop that's juicy enough to stand on its own, but it's brought up to another level when served over an apricot-red pepper sauce, brightened with citrus and vinegar and a pop of spice. I serve it all with wilted kale for a delicious meal in the summer or fall.

Golden beets: All beets are wonderfully healthy for us, but golden beets are particularly healthy (and beautiful!) and full of fiber and potassium, and they prevent constipation. Another plus: their color is lighter and stains less than the traditional magenta beets -- an added benefit if serving them in a "white tablecloth" setting. They can be roasted, blended into a soup (golden borscht!), or served sliced raw into a salad. They pair well with bitter greens like arugula, and their sweetness also pairs well with cheeses, from goat cheese to a potent blue cheese.

Guava: This tropical fruit is orangey-pink, and has high levels of lycopene, making the fruit heart healthy and anti-cancer, particularly effective in preventing prostate cancer. It's also high in potassium. This is great as a juice on its own or mixed into smoothies.

Mangoes: This fruit is high in beta carotene, and helps to prevent prostate and skin cancers. It's great, when ripe, to eat out of hand, or to serve sliced with some coconut rice pudding. The sorbet is actually a really healthy treat as far as desserts go, and you can find mango in fruit shakes and Indian lassis (kefir yogurt-fruit drinks), which do wonders for your intestinal tract and also supply probiotics to keep the good bacteria in your tummy in good health.

Turmeric: Though technically not a food you'd eat on its own, turmeric is a rhizome (like ginger) that seems to be the wonder-food of the year. Its anti-inflammatory properties are well-established, and it helps to prevent kidney and cardiovascular disease, arthritis, and irritable bowel syndrome. In its powder form, it's a part of most curry mixes, and it's sometimes dubbed "poor man's saffron" because it lends its bright orange-yellow color to dishes like rice and stews where saffron is too costly. But it's also great used like ginger as a flavor base for meat and fish stews, soups...even juiced with some apples, lemon, and ginger to make a great post-workout replenishing drink. 

And of course, in speaking about orange foods, I'd be remiss not to name the one food actually named for its color: the orange. Fall is not prime season for this citrus fruit, but drinking a glass of orange juice has become how so many Americans start their days, and it is very versatile, especially when its season rolls around in early winter. It doesn't have the A-vitamins many orange foods have, but it's quite high in Vitamin C and folate, so it's great to incorporate into the diet of women who are expecting, or hoping to expect in the near future. You can use orange zest to liven up dishes, its juice to cook into sauces and soups, as a stand-alone drink, or as part of a smoothie or even a cocktail. The possibilities are vast.

I know I'll be getting my fill of ORANGE FOODS this autumn, and happily so. October is the peak month for so many delicious food items that if we remember to eat in season, we'll be that much closer to eating a healthy, well-rounded diet. Just remember: O. October. Orange. It's simple. Get it while you can! 

ESCAPES: Puglia, ITALY, Part 1: The Salento -- Lecce area

I remember a couple of years ago, while strolling the streets of London, a bus drove past me plastered with an image of a sunny coastline and a voluptuous, bronzed, Latin-looking model in a bikini, with the word "Puglia" written in large letters at the top. I chuckled at the idea of the region of Puglia spending countless euros on an advertising campaign touting the charms of a region I would prefer remain a secret -- especially from the masses of tourists looking for, as it's often been deemed, "The Next Tuscany."

No. No, no, and no! First of all, Puglia is nothing like Tuscany. I love Tuscany, and I love Puglia, but they're more dissimilar than they are alike. Tuscany is rolling hills and vineyards and farm land for miles, all central Italian greenery and picturesque landscape. Puglia is a different beast, more ancient Greek than Renaissance chic, more arid-by-the-sea than lush fecundity. Where Tuscany has diminutive olive trees planted alongside its grape vines, the land in Puglia is covered with large, old olive trees with craggy, knotty trunks that look like they've been around for millennia (and they likely have). The land is mostly flat, and you're never very far from the sea, whether it's the Adriatic on the east coast, or the Ionian on the west (interior) coast. So much depends on the wind for the weather, and locals are acutely attuned to it. 

The locals, in fact, are a very interesting facet of daily life in Puglia. They are deeply entrenched in tradition, and speak a dialect closer to Greek than any recognizable Italian. They are reserved with strangers until they get to know you a bit, and then they treat you like family. They are religious and superstitious, they celebrate countless festivals and holidays. There is a sense of civic pride and the streets are clean. And though there is some organized crime here, they say it never really took hold in Puglia as in other regions in the south, because la gente parla: people talk, and so secrets can't be kept so well.

As for the local cuisine, much depends on the wild vegetation and aquatic resources of the "heel of the boot" -- where, incidentally, about 40% of Italy's olive oil is produced. And this oil is good. Very good. It's used to saute' vegetables and to make breads and pizzas. It's drizzled on pastas and seafood fresh from the turquoise waters of the nearby Mediterranean. It's stirred into soups and stews, and even churned into gelato. For the most part, this is cucina povera (cooking of the poor) at its most innovative. The local grains are turned into world-famous breads -- the "Pugliese" loaf is even hawked as far away as Citarella in the east end of Long Island. Even the burnt flour from the process of prepping wheat fields after the "good stuff" has been cultivated isn't wasted on the less fortunate here, who have traditionally turned this burnt grain ("grano arso") flour into a darker, chewier, slightly toasty-flavored pasta. As fate would have it, this has become the newest, dare I say 'hippest' pasta for in-the-know italophiles and restaurateurs, though it's still fairly hard to come by stateside. So take advantage if you see it on a menu in Puglia, and try it. 

LECCE

This Pugliese town is known, outside of Rome itself, as the capital of baroque in Italy. It's also the unofficial capital of the Salento. The local sandstone is soft and therefore more easily sculpted, and artists have taken advantage of this to create intricate, elaborate carvings in the architecture. The piazza del Duomo is a breathtaking example: accessed by a narrow entrance, you enter and as the piazza opens up, you're confronted with a cathedral (12th century), a palace (15th century), and a seminary (18th century) that seem to shine so brightly during the day that they reflect the sun, and at night, seem to glow from within. The basilica di Santa Croce is another baroque gem in Lecce's town center. 

Also of interest is the 2nd century A.D. Roman Amphitheater in piazza Sant'Oronzo -- subterranean and excavated in the 1930's to expose a perfect horseshoe amphitheater with seating for 15,000. In the photo here, it's set up for a summer concert series, a unique experience if you happen to be in town. The city itself is a small, elegant, lively, laid-back university town with boutiques, bars, and restaurants aplenty.

There are a few elegant hotels in the historic center from which you can explore the area. The Patria Palace Hotel is a well-located traditional upscale Italian albergo with gorgeous green Murano glass chandeliers and a fabulous rooftop terrace overlooking the Santa Croce basilica. The Risorgimento Resortis a more modern and stylish spot with a restaurant, wine bar, and rooftop garden. Airbnb also offers a number of great options in and around Lecce, for those travelers who want to feel at home in an apartment or B and B without the services of a 4- or 5-star hotel. These lodgings can be a great value, too.

As for food in Lecce? There are plenty of great options, mostly for food that tends toward the casalinga (housewife) style. It's homey, it's hearty (pasta with beans, potatoes, and mussels is a delicious local specialty, but an Atkins nightmare), and it's often vegetarian-friendly.

Both Alle Due Corti and Cucina Casareccia are restaurants that seem like a relative's home -- albeit a relative who's superb in the kitchen. Dishes like orecchiette (the Pugliese regional pasta, "little ears") with cime di rapa (turnip greens), and the vegetable dish of cicoria e fave (sauteed chicory greens and pureed fava beans) are classics of the area. 

Seafood tends to be prepared very simply, either crudo (raw) as in a tartare or carpaccio, or a simple local fish like sarago, cooked in a salt crust and filleted and served with local, top-quality olive oil. For breakfast, try the deservedly-famous pasticciotto leccese, a sort of mini-pie with an almond-flour crust and a creamy filling, ranging from almond cream to Nutella. 

BEYOND LECCE

The small towns surrounding Lecce (many of which have "Lecce" in their names), range from charming hamlets to antique ghost towns, and many are worth exploring. Getting out of the city of Lecce allows you to see the countryside of the Salento, and out to the beaches -- both the dramatic, rocky eastern coastline and the western, interior Ionian coastline and its sandy beaches. I recently traveled to the Salento to attend the wedding of some dear friends of mine in Muro Leccese. 

They rented a few houses next to each other for their guests arriving from all over Europe, North America, and the Middle East. The houses felt more like they were plucked from a Greek island, or from the medina in Morocco, mazes of limestone and white stucco, narrow hallways and staircases, lemon trees and creeping bougainvillea. The wedding itself was held at the nearby Botanical Gardens, La Cutura, in Giugianello (province of Lecce). This gorgeous former estate is home to the largest collection of succulents in Italy, and was a truly enchanted setting for the wedding, with dinner and dancing afterwards.

The following day, I prepared a brunch for about 100 guests in the kitchen of those rented villas -- a task that was challenging, fun, and something I couldn't have done without the incredible help of my (mostly) willing help (grazie a tutti quanti)! We served both local dishes (orecchiette with sausage and turnip greens) and dishes from elsewhere in Italy and overseas. It was a sweltering, mostly-sunny, collaborative, memorable afternoon with my trusty crew/amore/dear amici. And of course, the days leading up to that afternoon in prep -- many market trips, searching, inquiring, schlepping, organizing, cooking, more schlepping...a true authentic experience in the mezzogiorno!

And where did we come to rest our weary heads after a long day trekking around the Salento? I wouldn't stay just anywhere. I prefer the likes of Salindia Boutique Bed and Breakfast. It's extremely personal but you are still "hosted" in a Pugliese home. My lovely friends from Rome, Monica and Marcello, run Salindia ("Sal-" for Salento and "India" for Monica's Indian heritage). The married couple set up shop in Caprarica di Lecce, a small village of 2,000 inhabitants roughly 15 minutes south of Lecce. They found a run-down 17th century farmhouse (actually two, which they connected), saw the potential beauty there, and painstakingly refurbished this plot of land in the center of town, turning it into a little heavenly oasis within old stone walls.

Their eye for detail is exquisite, and they've managed to stay true to the local whitewashed Greco-Roman aesthetic while intermingling with Italian modern and antique Indian craft. And it works beautifully. There are engraved wood four-post beds draped with Indian silk in the bedroom suites (there are 2), modern bathrooms with deep glass bowl sinks and counters, and stone spa showers with rainfall shower heads. In the common spaces, there are poured cement floors and B+B Italia leather sofas juxtaposed with the original stone fireplaces from 1685, Indian wooden antiques, and colorful mirrored poufs.

There is an enclosed back garden for relaxing among the fruit trees and caper bushes, and in the front off of the modern dining room and kitchen, there's the enclosed cortile with a turquoise pool and plenty of space for soaking in the sun. All of this is just steps removed from one of the main streets of the town, though you'd never know it from the inside. And speaking of, you'll get some great insider's advice for things to do and see in and around the Salento, from Monica and Marcello. At the height of the summer season, there always seems to be a sagra, or festival, happening in one of the surrounding towns, or in Caprarica itself. And throughout the rest of the year, there are seasonal festivals and always lots of music of the Salento in the air -- the famous tarantella dance and the pizzica music that accompanies it. (More on this in my next Puglia post).

A note to travelers: renting a car is a must in Puglia to get around, unless you're planning on staying for only a few days in the center of Lecce. But that would be a shame. Rent a car, explore, see the coast, see the city, see the small towns and countryside. It's not Tuscany, it's different. It's Puglia. And it's still, for now, deliciously under-the-radar.

PATRIA PALACE HOTEL LECCE, www.patriapalacelecce.com

RISORGIMENTO RESORT, www.risorgimentoresort.it

SALINDIA Boutique Bed and Breakfast, Caprarica di Lecce. 

www.facebook.com/pages/Salindia-Boutique-BedBreakfast/607730372580032 

**

Alle Due Corti, Lecce. Via Prato 42. (0832) 24.22.23. www.alleduecorti.com

Cucina Casareccia, Lecce. Viale Costadura 19. (0832) 24.51.78

Botanical Gardens "La Cutura", www.lacutura.it

SEASONAL INGREDIENTS: Basil... + Pesto alla Genovese

Quick, hurry! Before summer is officially over in a few (not-really-that-short) days! For anyone who has grown her own basil this summer, whether in the back yard or on a windowsill or -- if she's lucky enough -- in her own lush, expansive, dedicated herb garden: it's pesto time.

Pesto, as a sauce, originates from the Italian verb pestare (to pound or crush), which gave rise to the word pestle, as in mortar-and-pestle -- the instruments originally used to make the sauce. In Italian cuisine, pesto refers to any sauce made with a mortar and pestle, and has myriad iterations. From the northwest coast of Liguria, and the city of Genova, where pesto alla Genovese originates, to the island of Sicily, where the local pesto is most often red (from tomatoes)...a pesto sauce can mean many things to many different people. Today we're focusing on the world's most famous pesto. Made with only a few top-quality ingredients, at their seasonal peak, pesto alla Genovese is the essence of Italian cooking in a simple condiment. 

The basil pesto made famous by the Genovese uses the local ingredient par excellence: basilico genovese, a DOP item (denominazione origine protetta -- meaning the origin and varietal of the basil is protected under Italian law. Meaning it's the good stuff, the real thing). This is crushed with garlic and European pine nuts, plus a little salt. This paste is made into a sauce with the addition of olive oil -- in Liguria, it's the golden, relatively mild and fruity variety made from local taggiasca olives. A grated cheese is added at the end, either parmigiano-reggiano or a pecorino or both.

The cheese you use will determine how salty the end result is, so waiting to add most of the salt until the end is advised. In Genova, this sauce is most commonly served with a local pasta called trofie, a twisted short pasta, and often tossed with boiled potatoes and green beans as well. Of course, the traditional way of making it with a mortar and pestle is the best way to appreciate the process -- but it's the modern day food processor that allows you to make the sauce in a snap.

With the abundant crops of basil throughout the late summer, now is the time to turn the beautiful anise-scented leaves into a perfectly summery sauce that freezes well and lasts for a month or two even in the fridge, as long as it's covered with a layer of olive oil to seal it off from the air. Spread on late summer heirloom tomatoes, this pesto adds the perfect touch to a light September lunch. You can toss it with pasta, serve it with grilled meats, spread it on tomatoes or drizzle it on top and bake the tomatoes. You can use it alone or mix it with mayonnaise for a great sandwich spread or dip. And you can even stir it into vegetable soups as the French in Provence do with their soupe au pistou. Any way you use it, pesto alla Genovese is a great way to use your late summer basil, and to keep enjoying it for months after summer officially ends.

Arrivederci, estate!

(Farewell, summer!)

PESTO ALLA GENOVESE

(8+ servings)

8 cups basil leaves, washed and dried

2 cloves garlic, peeled

1 cup toasted pine nuts

Approximately 1 cup extra-virgin olive oil, very good quality (from Liguria if possible)

½ cup grated parmigiano or pecorino cheese, or a mix of both

salt to taste

- In a food processor or blender, turn the switch to on and drop in the garlic clove so it is finely minced.

- Turn off the blender and remove the top, and add about half of the basil leaves. Return top and blend, adding about half of the olive oil. Now add half of the pine nuts. Add salt to taste.

- Continue this process, balancing the flavors until you reach the proper flavor and consistency you’d like. It can be a bit more liquid rather than thick, because you’ll be adding the parmigiano cheese which will thicken it a bit.

- Remove from food processor/blender and pour into a bowl. Stir in the parmigiano cheese.

- When adding to cooked pasta, mix the pesto with some of the pasta’s cooking water to thin. Use also as a sandwich spread. Keeps in the refrigerator for weeks: cover the sauce with a film of olive oil to seal it from air (this way, it won’t turn black). Wrap/cover tightly.

MARKETS: Mercato di Pesce in Catania, Sicily

It's a wild and memorable stop on any giro in the historic center of Catania, Sicily's southeastern city-on-the-sea, in the shadow of Mount Etna: the Mercato di Pesce, or fish market. It encompasses more than just fish, but the daily catch from local waters is really the star of the show here in the mercato. And what a show it is, every day!

Catania is Sicily's second-largest city, with 300,000 residents in the city proper and 1 million people in the metro area. Much of the city's beautiful architecture, like that of the surrounding Val di Noto, is barocco (baroque) -- ornate and expressive with detailed facades and embedded sculpture. Like its surrounding towns in the Noto Valley, Catania was rebuilt after the great earthquake of 1693, and so these towns were redesigned in the popular style of the era, which happened to be Sicilian baroque, disseminated from its origins in Rome. The fish market's fortunate positioning places its entrance just off the Piazza del Duomo, with the gorgeous pale grey-blue facade of its baroque church. The market has been in its current location since the beginning of the 19th century, when the galleria for the market was dug from the site of the historic center's 16th century city walls. 

Once you enter the market, all the tranquility and beauty you just witnessed in the Duomo and the nearby fountain turn to chaos and shouting, hawking and salesmanship and showmanship. That Sicily was once the provenance of the Arab world, (and its proximity to North Africa) can be felt here, viscerally. The mercato di pesce is part Italian market, part souk. The fishmongers are yelling pleas of "buy my fish, it's the best!" and "There is no fish fresher than mine!" and some say simply "Signora, signora, what can I offer you? Best price just for you!" On the whole, these fishmongers are selling more or less identical products. As you wade through the fish stalls (and I do mean wade: wearing wellies is a better idea than wearing sandals or flip-flops), the prices are more or less on par, so the only thing separating these stalls is the quality of the merchandise...and the marketing skills of the sellers. In the photo here, you see some of the most typical seafood for sale: anchovies and sardines, and shrimp of all sizes, including the delicate and delicious gambero rosso, or red shrimp from the Gulf of Catania, best eaten raw. There are triglie and branzino and orata (various Mediterranean white-fleshed fish), and calamari and octopus.

There is famously fresh tuna in these waters, much of which comes from the west and north coasts of Sicily, between the island and Calabria on the peninsula -- most of which either gets cooked and canned sott'olio (in oil) for Sicily's famous high quality preserved tuna fish, or sold to Japan, where its vertiginous prices are paid by the Japanese sushi and sashimi purchasers. But you can find it here, its flesh a fresh semi-translucent ruby red. And you can find its white-fleshed steakfish friend, pesce spada, or swordfish, all over Sicily. It's particularly good here. I purchased some for our dinner later that night, to be composed of entirely market-bought items. I also bought some beautiful whole calamari.

I was ecstatic to find neonati, teeny-tiny "just born" whitings that, grouped together by the hundreds, would make the base for polpetti -- little fish "meatballs." Other interesting items in the fish market include bottarga (salt-cured tuna roe) and ricci di mare, sea urchin. Such items are typical in these parts of southern Italy, and we'd been gorging ourselves on pasta with sea urchin and pasta with bottarga since we arrived down south a week earlier. So I went for something a little different. With my fish gathered and a menu coming together in my head, I passed by a few stalls in the fruit and vegetable part of the market, and then we were off for a swim in the sea just down the street from our apartment. And then, and only then...to cook!

What did I make at the end of the day? My take on various Sicilian specialties and flavors, using locally purchased ingredients, of course. I made those polpetti with neonati, bread crumbs, egg, herbs, and spices, and deep fried them. I took the gorgeous swordfish from the fish market and sliced the steaks as thin as possible, then stuffed them with an eggplant caponata (sweet-and-sour ratatouille) I made from market vegetables, and rolled that into involtini. I made a sort of salsa verde (green sauce) with basil, mint, and parsley from the herb plants on our apartment's terrace, and spread that on top of the oven-cooked swordfish.

And I took the calamari, cleaned them, and chopped the tentacles up and tossed them with bread crumbs, parmigiano cheese, seasoning, and lemon zest, and stuffed the calamari with this mixture. I baked those in the oven as well, and in the meantime made a spicy sauce from the gorgeous local pachino cherry tomatoes and basil and garlic from the market. I served that with the calamari, on the side. It was a memorable meal that we accompanied with a chilled Sicilian white wine from grapes grown in Mt. Etna's volcanic soil, and finished off with some local fresh figs and wild fragoline, tiny strawberries. I found everything we used, except for the bread crumbs and the raisins and pine nuts, at the mercato di pesce and surrounding vegetable market. That's what I call a local meal.

Cin-cin to Sicilia and her gorgeous culinary gifts!

Footnote: If you're not lucky enough to be staying in an apartment with a kitchen, or aren't much of a home cook, there are some terrific, highly-recommended restaurants within a stone's throw (and sometimes inside) of the fish market. Three of these are:
- Ambasciata del Mare
- Osteria Antica Mare
- Trattoria La Paglia

RESTAURANT REVIEW: Red Bar Brasserie, Southampton, NY

Sometimes I review restaurants that have recently opened or that offer something new to the dining public. But just as often, I like to write about a restaurant simply because it gets it right, and often it has been getting it right for many years now. Red Bar Brasserie in Southampton is one of those places that falls into the latter category. There's nothing earth-shattering here, no molecular gastronomy or $100-a-pound lobster salad to set tongues a-wagging. Simply put, this is and continues to be a restaurant where I want to eat. Where pretty much everything on the menu appeals, and it's almost certainly well-executed. And it's been open for almost 18 years -- which, in the seasonal setting of The Hamptons, means it must be doing something right, both with summer tourists and with locals. That alone is a feat worth celebrating.

Restaurateurs Kirk Basnight and David Loewenberg have created a dining room that works equally well for a group of friends having a social evening or for a couple enjoying a romantic candelit dinner together (again, not an easy line to straddle). Chef Erik Nodeland has created a menu featuring local produce, seafood, and meat whenever possible -- and the East End provides an ample bounty for those chefs looking for delicious primary ingredients. His dishes pair French and Mediterranean technique with an American sensibility, and the results are generally excellent.

Appetizers to try (though they do change seasonally) include a fluke crudo with avocado, cucumber, citrus, and chiles, as well as a similar-but-spicier Hawaiian poke (pronounced POE-kay) with avocados, cashews, a spicy sesame vinaigrette and plantain chips. For those interested in rich meats, the braised pork belly with pickled rhubarb, baby arugula, and ricotta salata is a nice option. Or go for broke and indulge in the foie gras terrine with candied kumquats, pistachios, and crostini. The signature main is a truffled chicken breast with mushroom risotto and french beans, though I rarely order chicken in a restaurant (I reserve that for home cooking), so I'm more likely to go for the duroc pork chop or a savory steak, of which there are several to choose from on the brasserie menu.

But since I'm out in eastern Long Island, I'm much more inclined to get a fish dish. Recent temptations include the miso-glazed local tilefish (I'm seeing a lot more tilefish on menus lately, and it's great eating) with spinach, leeks, shitake mushrooms and meyer lemon. Also of note is the striped bass (also local) with littleneck clams, chorizo, potatoes, tomatoes, fennel, and white wine. Of course, Long Island duck breast is always a good choice in these parts, and Red Bar always has it on the menu. Right now it's the seared breast with lentils du Puy, butternut squash, braised kale, and bing cherries. 

I liked the Asian-inflected version I had last year even better, with bok choy and a tamarind broth that made me want to lick the plate. As for desserts, interesting options are a fresh fig and frangipane tart with vanilla ice cream and raspberry sauce, or the toasted coconut and almond bread pudding with a mango-pineapple sauce. Or, you could go for the ever-so-retro Baked Alaska. There's something about the showmanship of that dessert that makes it a perfect restaurant dessert choice. It requires some great service in the dining room to pull it off properly, setting the whole orb alight with rum and fire. Red Bar Brasserie is more than capable of this, since their dining room service is generally welcoming and top-notch. This, along with interesting and well-executed dishes from the kitchen, makes Red Bar Brasserie what can now be considered a perennial Hamptons favorite, and one of my go-to spots "out east."

Red Bar Brasserie
210 Hampton Road
Southampton, NY  
(631) 283.0704
www.redbarbrasserie.com

RECIPE: Concia, a Roman Jewish tradition

Rome's Jewish ghetto, 2 pm. I'm starving and sweating in Rome's midday heat and humidity. I don't want pasta, or risotto, or even any secondo that is served warm. I want room temperature and cold dishes, and something refreshing and flavorful with an acid kick. I want concia (pronounced "CONE-cha"). 

What is this dish exactly? It's one of many examples of cooked vegetables marinated in an acid (in this case the vinegar) to preserve the vegetable. That it adds interesting depth of flavor may be just a happy coincidence: like many dishes of Jewish origin, this was cooked and then eaten a day or two later, on the sabbath, when observant Jews are not allowed to cook or do work of any kind. Concia, a dish specific to the Roman Jewish ghetto, may have originated in Rome. But it may have been brought there by Jews fleeing the Inquisition at the end of the 15th century in Spain. Many Spanish Jews fled to Italy, and brought with them an interesting array of foods previously unknown to Italian palates.

 That this dish so closely resembles the Neapolitan "scapece" may be another link among Jewish cooks: once Naples was conquered by the Spanish a decade or so after the Inquisition began, the Jews in Naples may have fled to Rome, where "scapece" became "concia." Indeed, "scapece" is incredibly similar in sound and spelling to the Spanish "escabeche," which is the identical culinary concept. 

But whether we have the Spanish or the Romans to thank for this dish, it's definitely got Jewish roots. And it's definitely delicious. Enjoy this cooling dish on a warm night throughout the summer months -- and pretend you're sitting on the sidewalk of a trattoria in Rome's beautiful Jewish ghetto...

CONCIA DI ZUCCHINE

Ingredients
*6 medium zucchine, about 2 pounds
*1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
*6 medium cloves of garlic
*Half a bunch of mint, leaves pulled from the stems, and torn or sliced into a chiffonade {alternatives include flat leaf parsley and/or basil}
*2 teaspoons kosher salt
*Freshly ground black pepper to taste
*1/4 cup red wine or balsamic vinegar
*{freshly grilled bread, optional}


Directions
- Trim the zucchini at both ends and slice into discs or lengthwise strips about 1/8 - 1/4 inch thick
- Heat the olive oil in a pan, toss in 2 of the garlic cloves, and allow to infuse the oil for 30 seconds
- Throw in enough zucchini to cover the surface of the pan, but not so many that they overlap -- approximately 2 zucchini at a time. Salt and pepper to taste. Cook until golden brown. Repeat with the rest of the garlic and zucchini.
-  Once all the zucchini has been cooked, return it all to the pan to heat through. Add the vinegar and the mint, and stir to mix the flavors.
- Let sit for at least an hour and as much as one full day to allow the flavors to marry. Serve over grilled bread, if you like.

RESTAURANT REVIEW: Le Chateaubriand, Paris

"I know what I'm getting for dinner tomorrow night," professed my friend Kenny, then a 2-year resident of Paris. Then I had to explain to him that Le Chateaubriand is not, as the name might imply, some stuffy, starched-linen tablecloth, overpriced, old-school Parisian joint that specializes in its namesake hunk of beef. Not at all. When I told him that it's an experimental, prix-fixe modern bistro, headed by a young culinary wiz and autodidact, he rolled his eyes and said, "Oh no, a 'Drizzled Walnut'!" -- his term for any frilly restaurant that serves walnut-sized pieces of protein drizzled with a sauce that requires the waiter to invoke 4 verbs and 17 adjectives in describing it. "No, it's not like that," I reply. "You can wear jeans!" And so dinner, as they say, was on.

After enjoying aperitifs in a nearby cafe-bar, my 3 American, Paris-dwelling friends and I proceeded to Le Chateaubriand just after the designated 9:30 arrival time -- they take reservations up to their 8:30 seating, and it's a free-for-all from 9:30 onward. It was in line outside the restaurant that we met an American couple honeymooning in Paris, after hitting some traditional honeymoon hot spots in Italy. They, like many Americans, had seen the restaurant featured on the final season of Anthony Bourdain's food-travel show, "No Reservations." He and top toque Eric Ripert, of NYC's best seafood spot Le Bernardin, found Le Chaueaubriand's food to be exciting, fresh, and genial: high praise coming from as renowned a chef as Ripert, and as seasoned an eater as Bourdain. I suspect that episode fueled many a traveler like our Long Island honeymooners to show up in line here. And so we waited, but only for about 20 minutes: it turns out our group of 4 got seated more quickly than the several two-tops in line ahead of us. A happy circumstance. We were famished.

Le Chateaubriand offers a single prix-fixe meal each evening, and you can order wine and cocktails and beer by the glass, or go for the accompanying drinks menu -- which of course we selected -- for an additional 60 euros. I recommend this, not so much for value purposes (often times you get more bang for your buck by wisely selecting bottles from the wine list), but because here you get truly interesting pairings.

And it goes beyond wine to offer sparkling wine, cider, and beyond. Now, there are certainly repeat dishes that the chef puts on offer (to wit: his famous egg dessert. More on that later). But the menu is seasonal and changes with such frequency that you'd most likely be unable to order much of anything I'll describe here. This is more to give you a feel for power chef Inaki Aizpitarte's French cuisine that has been labeled "daring and challenging." I find it innovative, beautiful, often exhilarating, sometimes baffling...and the experience is a lot of fun, a memorable Parisian evening.

MENU

Amuse bouche:
-Liqueur de tomatoes L. Cazottes: This was a ceviche in fresh tomato and onion water with coriander flowers. Delicious and fresh.
Chambolle Musigny, 2010 (pinot noir) Bourgogne Fred Cossard

-Bonite de Saint Jean de Luz, fenouil, sauge: Bonito is a fish in the mackerel and tuna family, sort of a cross between the two. This one hailed from southwestern France, the Basque coast. Beautifully cooked to pink and covered in fennel, artichokes, baby carrot, and fried sage.

Anfora, 2007 (Vitobska) Venezia Giulia Vodopivec

We had a few off-menu courses that were tossed into the mix, gratis -- more like snacks, really. But these were some of the most delicious elements of the meal. They brought us a gorgeous little plate of teeny whole shrimp, shell intact and everything, which were dusted with a tamarind powder. These were lip-smackingly good -- an innovative take on peel-and-eat shrimp that left me wanting to devour several plates all by myself.
We also enjoyed an interim "salad" of sorts, which was a small, charcoal gray earthen bowl filled with a study in vibrant green. The flavors were vegetal but varying: tender early summer baby greens, sweet fresh peas (I am not a pea fan by any stretch, but these were raw and and sweet without the mealy starch I dislike), and sea asparagus or samphire, probably my favorite vegetable around.


- Barbue, sureau, beurre noisette: This is brill, a flat fish much like turbot, with elderflower, Japanese eggplant, and brown butter with sesame seeds. On the plate, it looks like a study in one-note pallor. The appearance belies the tremendous amount of flavor of the entire dish, not to mention the wonderful texture between the firm, flaky fish, the soft fleshy eggplant, the crunchy nuttiness of the sesame, and the floral sweetness of the elder. Unlike anything I've ever tasted.
Sous la Lune, 2012 (Grenache,carignan) Cote du Rhone Nicolas Renaud

- Ris de veau, pampelmousse de Corse, tournesol: These were delicious and delicate sweetbreads on a bruleed grapefruit, with sunflower and long, elegant baby onions.

Cumieres (Chardonnay, pinot noir, pinot menier) Champagne 1st Cru George Laval

- Citron de Sicile, concombre, liveche: This was a sort of palate-cleansing entry into dessert, with Sicilian cedro (citron) granita, cucumber, and lovage (a citrus-scented green). Apparently I enjoyed it so much, and so quickly, that I didn't take a photo of it. Pardonnez-moi!
Biere Blanche Philomene

-Tocino del Cielo: We're back to this signature dessert dish of Aizpitarte's. And it's light and lovely and a cute visual/gustatory "trick" of sorts. It's a candied egg yolk atop a meringue egg shell with yolk "powder." It's barely sweet and delicious. (I could have used some chocolate, however. This is France, after all.)

Palo Cortado Fernando de Castilla

The egg dessert as it arrives at the table

The candied yolk is broken

And so our wonderful, interesting meal was over. My Parisian-dwelling friends have returned several times since then, and they're always guaranteed a dining experience unlike any other in the City of Light. That summer evening at Le Chateaubriand, we were quite happy to have enjoyed it together. Bisous mon ami!

 












LE CHATEAUBRIAND 129 Avenue Parmentier 75011
Paris, France
+33 1 43 57 4595
www.lechateaubriand.net

The vlog: 4th of July Berry Mojito

July 4th is the perfect time to get exceedingly patriotic. And I do. I've made more all-American meals for clients than I can count, baked more red-white-and-blue cakes and pastries and tarts than I care to remember. And the 4th of July -- just an ordinary day for the Italians in Italy -- was always a favorite holiday of mine in Rome. I once gave myself an American flag pedicure for the occasion! Okay, maybe that was going a bit overboard. But it was the day we Americans could declare our American-ness, our patriotism, and our love for making fun of our beloved British friends. We got together for cookouts and pool parties, and ate hot dogs and hamburgers of our own making. And the drinks. Always, said the Italians, we knew how to make the most delicious cocktails. Of course, the mojito isn't exactly American. But anything and red (strawberries, raspberries), white (rum), and blue (blueberries) -- well, that qualifies. So here we have a "patriotic" berry mojito that's perfect for sharing with friends on July 4th, and throughout the heat of summer. The lime and fresh mint give the drink a zing and a refreshing bite that cut through the sugar and sweetness of the berries. Replace the rum with cachaça or vodka for a berry caipirinha or caipiroska, respectively -- a nod to the World Cup host country and a perfect drink to enjoy while viewing this exciting soccer tournament, live from Brazil.

Enjoy, and HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!

 

QUICK BITE: Empanadas and Leche de Fruta, Quintero, Chile

Why does food -- and drink, for that matter -- always taste better when you're beachside? It's true. Think spaghetti alle vongole while overlooking the Mediterranean at a beach trattoria in Ostia. Or devouring a spicy green papaya salad purchased from a seaside cart in Krabi, Thailand. Or tucking into a rich shrimp moqueca while your toes are in the sand at a restaurant on the island of Morro de Sao Paolo in Brazil. I've done all of those things, and loved every minute of it. And somehow, the excitement of seaside snacking does not abate.
   
For instance, while most of the northeastern United States was suffering through a frigid first few weeks of the new year, I spent an afternoon in the Pacific Ocean-side town of Quintero, Chile, just about an hour north of Vina del Mar. It was a bit of an odd, popular place...sort of the Jones Beach of Chile, it seemed. And the locals we encountered there -- and we encountered only locals, as we were certainly the sole gringas on the beach that day -- seemed dressed more for an autumn outing in the park rather than the beach on an 82-degree afternoon in southern hemisphere summer. But no matter. We soaked up the sun and the beautiful natural surroundings of a cove we found, and then before getting a ride back to Vina, we indulged in a snack sold to us by a lovely older Chilean woman whose Spanish I was able to understand (Chilean Spanish is...challenging, I'll put it that way), and who was able to understand my Spanish in return. As a result, we enjoyed a frothy fresh mango juice and a couple of empanadas, one filled with fresh crab and cheese, the other with ground beef, onions, olives, and pine nuts, all wrapped up in a flaky pastry shell. This was the perfect snack to give us the energy to make it to dinner -- which was sure to be seaside, and to include at least one kind of ceviche. And since it was all consumed seaside, it was, of course, extra-delicious.

The vlog: Composed Salad for Summer

It's finally here! The first in a new series of instructional web cooking videos on the Blu Aubergine blog...that's right, the vlog! (Sounds Slavic, no?)...Well, it's here to guide you in delicious food prep with simple, easy-to-follow instructions for making various seasonal dishes.

First up: this summer composed salad. Like other famous composed salads (think Cobb, Nicoise, et al), these salads are composed of several ingredients other than greens -- usually a protein, a cheese, a fruit, a vegetable, and sometimes a nut or a grain. Most dressings can be whisked up in no time, but the dressing I make here has a spicy-sweet-sour base which requires a bit of cooking to infuse the flavor. I mention straining the ingredients after cooking, though I never actually do that in this video -- but the diced rhubarb, pepper, and garlic certainly don't detract from the salad. They may even enhance it. What kind of interesting combinations can you come up with for a delicious composed summer salad? The possibilities are endless...


As always, we welcome your comments and feedback. Enjoy, and buon appetito! 

 

HOLIDAYS: Father's Day

My Dad didn’t want a daughter. As the story goes, he said he wouldn’t be a good father to a girl. He couldn’t play ball with a girl, didn’t know how to talk to a girl. Wasn’t much for pink dresses and bows and ribbons and such. And then he said he saw me (a jaundiced lump of a thing), and held me (the largest of the newborns in my family), and it was love at first sight. And a foretelling start to our relationship. I am today and have always been what can only be described as a “Daddy’s Little Girl.” I’m the middle child sandwiched between two brothers, and they remind the whole family all the time of the hold they believe I have on my Dad’s heartstrings, repeating their favorite taunt of “whatever Dana wants, Dana gets.” While this is patently untrue, there's no denying the special bond that we share. My Dad has always told me how "delicious" I was as a baby in my little orange bathing suit (

I'm wearing that famous suit in the photo above). And any time since then, when I've been sarcastic or snippy with him, he posits: "Where did that sweet little girl in the orange bathing suit go?" Even now, when I make a joke at his expense, or imitate my Dad -- which makes him cackle despite himself -- he wonders that same question. It's code for "when did you grow up so quickly?" and I think it's disarmingly sweet.

There's a lot of my Dad in me. I've got his long limbs and his gap-toothed smile, his skin coloring and his green eyes. And then some things are probably a hybrid: partly genetic but given a bump-up by learned behavior and emulation. Sarcasm and sense of humor? Check. An entrepreneurial sensibility? Yes. An ear for music and language? I think so. A friendliness and approachability that somehow attracts random strangers to ask for directions, or money, or even more bizarre requests? Indeed, people at home and even overseas seem to seek out both my father and me. My love of history and great storytelling (written or spoken) is an appreciation my father passed on to me. And certainly embracing my Jewish identity -- probably even more a cultural thing than a religious one -- my Dad really helped me with that, even when as a child, I struggled with it. When you're young, the last thing you want to be is different. My father taught me that not only is that okay, but it's a positive thing. Being different is being special, and what's better than that? It's a lesson and a conviction I've carried with me ever since.

I've got a lot of food memories involving my father, partly because my mother was the primary cook in the family, so on the less-frequent occasions on which my father cooked, his handful of "specialty items" were memorable. Often times on Friday nights, he would make a simple fried flounder, coated in breadcrumbs and pan-fried, with fried onions on top. I loved that dish. He also claimed to be the master of the omelette, which in reality was more of a protein pancake, with pastrami-and-eggs, ham-and-eggs, and salami-and-eggs as his Jewish deli-style specialties. This was his cure-all for pretty much anything that ailed us. And of course, though he didn't actually make the whole Saturday or Sunday morning spread, the process of procuring the best "bagels and lox" (a catch-all name for a variety of bagels, cream cheeses, and smoked fish) was something at which my Dad excelled, and still does.

I remember him bringing me along in the car to an appetizing store in Menlo Park, NJ as a little girl. All the guys in the shop knew him by name, but what stood out to me was the lone female among the smoked fish specialists, named Rita -- a sassy lady with short dark hair and a small mole on one cheek. She was so sweet to me, and always gave me a sample to taste the Nova lox she sliced paper-thin per my Dad's request. Then we'd go next door to the bagel shop to pick up a dozen warm, crusty bagels to go with the fish and cream cheese. The smell of that bagel bakery has haunted my senses since I was a young girl. So when my nose was caught off-guard one day, and I sniffed the exact same smell as that bagel bakery, more than 20 years later, I was surprised and giddy. It emanated from a famous forno (bread bakery) around the corner from my apartment, in the Jewish Ghetto, in Rome. I still adore that bakery, and I happily inhale as I walk past it when the ovens are on full-force, late in the afternoon or very early in the morning. To find pure childhood nostalgia, to be reminded of those father-daughter weekend morning treks -- in Rome of all places -- is pretty amazing.

And so, speaking of this Italian connection and the strong pull Italy has on me...it most likely has its roots with my father. He's a Jewish kid from Brooklyn, not Italian by heritage at all. And though Jewish and Italian cultures share a lot, especially the emphasis on family and food, it's more than that. My Dad always says he feels Italian. Maybe in another life, he was a peasant in the Italian countryside, he says. And: Francis Ford Coppola's "The Godfather" came out in 1972 -- not incidentally, I'm convinced, the year I was born. And ever since I was of a passable age to view the film, my father would watch it with me, almost coaching me on it. The significance of Sonny's outspokenness in front of his father, Michael's gutsy proposal to his Sicilian future father-in-law, Don Corleone's understanding that "it was Barzini all along"...it was like receiving a master class in mafia cinema. My Dad even gave a toast at one of my cousin's weddings in the manner of Luca Brasi! So imagine how thrilled I was when, a few years back, I was lucky enough to cook for the Godfather himself, Al Pacino. The irony of the actor (as kind and well-mannered as could be, by the way), suffering through a low-carb diet -- The Godfather, Il Padrino, unable to eat my pasta! -- was not lost on me, believe me. 

Nor is it lost on me that the one dish I grew up preparing together with my father turned out to be Pollo alla Romana. Of course, we called it "chicken with peppers, tomatoes, and onions" at the time. And my brothers still cringe at the thought of being force-fed this culinary creation that we thought we'd pretty much invented in the late '70s. My mother was more patient and accepting, as is her way. So she was quite game when I came home one summer while living in Rome, and my Dad and I decided to recreate this Sunday staple, but with a little more insight honed from my professional cooking career. I taught my father the finer points of knife skills and chicken-searing, and we all enjoyed a meal steeped in Italian flavor and nostalgia.

As a born chocoholic, the first dishes I prepared were sweets. My father taught me early on the importance of a perfect chocolate chip cookie, or a great chocolate cake, which I'd make for him with the help of my Mom. Dad often had these treats with milk (one word: "Milk'n'cake") as an evening snack between dinner and bedtime (not to mention his prolific consumption of Devil Dogs, Suzie Q’s, and anything containing chocolate that Drake or Hostess produced). As an adult, I've been able to steer my Dad's palate to a slightly more sophisticated chocolate dessert. My much-requested flourless chocolate cake uses so little sugar that even when I use Splenda instead (at my Dad's request), you can't taste the difference. It's pure chocolate decadence, something my Dad loves -- something I love, since the time I was Daddy's Little Girl in the orange bathing suit.

In Tel Aviv

With my parents in NYC

In the Scottish countryside

RECIPES: Pollo Al Mattone (Chicken Under a Brick)

Early summer is a great time for grilling -- either outdoors, where it's not too sweltering, or indoors in a grill pan, when the night may be a little too crisp for lingering outside. Either way, a great dish perfected by the Italians and beloved by everyone who enjoys a delicious, flavorful, juicy chicken dish (and who in their right mind doesn't -- vegetarians excluded, of course...though you really must know you're missing out)? Pollo Al Mattone, or chicken cooked under a brick, in English.

 Most likely Etruscan in origin (there are frescoes depicting the cooking of this dish in ancient Etruscan tombs), this dish in modern times is very Tuscan: simply prepared, using a few top-quality ingredients, with rosemary and lemon as prominent flavorings. Italians in central Italy have mastered the art of grilling, and this method is a wonderful way to create a crisp, flavorful, charred skin while keeping the meat juicy on the inside.Opening the chicken up by removing its backbone allows the chicken to lay flat on the grill or grill pan. The flattening of the chicken allows for even cooking. You can find terra cotta weighted covers for grill pans both in the U.S. and in Italy, but it's just as easy to use the weight of a cast iron pan, or an actual brick to weigh down the chicken. (If the brick is not used specifically for cooking, you can wrap the brick in foil beforehand). Even better is placing a brick on top of a cast iron skillet to really weigh things down. Just make sure to place the "bricks" on the chicken from the very beginning of its cooking time to flatten it -- this is essential for even cooking and crisping the skin properly.

And don't be shy on the seasonings. Lots of salt and pepper, particularly on the skin side, will offer great payback at the end of cooking. I love to add lots of dried peperoncino (chili pepper) flakes to make the chicken spicy, which then makes the chicken dish Pollo alla Diavolo al Mattone. Once you flip the chicken to cook the other side, adding some rosemary and lemon is always a good idea. Other tasty additions would include fresh thyme, a little chopped garlic, and even more peperoncino. Brushing with a good, peppery Tuscan olive oil helps to keep the chicken moist.

Enjoy the cooking process by sipping a chilled Vernaccia di San Gimignano, the Tuscan white of choice, or try an Orvieto Bianco from nearby Umbria. Since Tuscany's wine production is 80% red, however, you could also match the smoky fire and spice of the diavolo with a hearty red like a Brunello di Montalcino, a Sangiovese (the grape comprises the majority of Chianti Classico wine), or a Morellino di Scansano, a lesser-known wine from Maremma in Southern Tuscany. Nibble on some prosciutto and salame toscana, and maybe some piave vecchio cheese and wait for your chicken to cook. Serve with some wilted greens or a salad of arugula and tomato with great olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and you have a fantastic, casual meal. This is the bella vita...and the start of summer!

POLLO AL MATTONE (Chicken Under a Brick)

Serves 2-4

1 whole chicken, 3-4 lbs.

fresh herbs – thyme, rosemary, and/or sage

Extra-virgin olive oil

Salt & pepper to taste

Peperoncino (optional)

1 lemon, cut into quarters

-          Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.

-          Wash the chicken and dry thoroughly.

-          On a cutting board, with the chicken facing breast side up, cut along either side of the backbone to remove it and open the chicken up. (Alternatively, have your butcher do this for you, so you can lay the chicken flat).

-           Rub the entire chicken with olive oil, even under the skin of the breasts. Fit herbs into the cavity and under the skin if you like. Sprinkle generously with salt and pepper (and peperoncino, if desired).

-          Put a heavy skillet, large enough to fit the chicken when opened flat, onto a burner on high for 3-4 minutes. Add a glug of olive oil to the pan and allow to heat for another 30 seconds.If using a grill, heat on high so it's searingly hot when meat touches the grate.

-          Place the chicken, skin side down, into the skillet (or on the grill). Cover with another skillet, as heavy as you can find, and then place a brick or heavy stone or piece of marble or granite on top to weigh it down. The idea is to flatten out the chicken as much as possible while it cooks.

-          Cook for approximately 15 minutes like this (you can turn the heat down to med-high if your stove burns hot).

-          Remove skillet and weights from the stove, still in place, and put into the preheated 450 oven, or on the grill, for approximately 10 more minutes.

-          Remove skillet and weights from oven/grill, take off weight/brick and top pan, and very carefully turn the chicken over in the skillet or on the grill.

-          Return to oven without anything on top, simply in the skillet, and cook for another 15 minutes to let the skin side continue to crisp up.

-          Remove from oven and let rest for 5-10 minutes outside of the oven or grill before carving. Serve with lemon quarters if you like.

HOLIDAYS: Mother's Day

Being a mother, as the saying goes, is the hardest job in the world. But my Mom has always done it with such aplomb and such devotion to her kids and her family that she made it look almost -- almost -- easy. Since I can remember, my Mom spent a large portion of her time shuttling my brothers and me from school to activity to sport, to rehearsals and games and lessons and competitions. As grown adults, she's been our counselor and reference and moral compass, our confidante and friend. And as the only other female in our family of 5, my mother and I have had a special bond between us, planning girls' afternoons shopping or lunching, or nights at the ballet with just the two of us. I started ballet lessons at the ripe old age of 3, in part because my mother had studied throughout her youth and she thought I might love it too. (I did, and continued studying and performing dance over the course of 25 years).

Dance turned out to be one of the longest-standing and greatest loves of my life. But not only. I share much more than genes with my mother: my tendencies come both from chromosomes and from shared experiences. The part of me that enjoys chemistry and math, that's inborn, and that's my Mom. My love of art and culture and travel comes from exposure to these interests, from my parents. A nurturing nature and fascination with flora and fauna...a positive outlook and aesthetic appreciation and a love of travel to foreign places...a cackle of a laugh, and a devotion to mint chocolate chip ice cream...they're all aspects of me that I can trace back to my mother.

Then, there's what my Mom taught me about cooking. Or rather, about feeding people. I loved cooking from a very young age -- mostly baking. Desserts. I am still a devout chocoholic, and I love making sweet treats for myself and for others. There's something so personal and heartfelt about a beautiful birthday cake, for example. My Mom and I used to bake together about once a week, either over the weekend or after school, making chocolate chip cookies and fudge and cupcakes.

Her mother also had a sweet tooth, and was an excellent baker as well, so we were our own great audience and tasters. We loved baking. I remember some great dinner parties we'd host at our family home in New Jersey, and my mother always did all of the cooking from scratch. I loved to help her with this elevated dinner party fare, or for a family summer BBQ, or for a Thanksgiving feast. I remember sprinkling a chocolate glaze over a deep chocolate-mint dessert bar of some kind, thinking how elegant it was. I think I was 9 years old at the time. And so I learned not only about cooking, but about the joy that cooking for others can bring to families and friends. I learned from a young age how eating together brings people together, and I loved being able to have that positive effect on people. I found it intoxicating enough that I would one day make it my profession.

From a very young age, my Mom helped me to cultivate an interest in cooking, in culture, in nature, and in the plants and creatures that end up as our food. And so I thank my beautiful, sweet, intelligent, and loving mother for all that she's done for me, for our family, and for the many people whose lives she's touched over the decades. I thank her for her dedication and for her love. I thank her for letting me be my own person, even when I've taken paths in life she might not have taken, or made decisions she might not have wanted me to make for myself. I thank her for her support in all of my endeavors, for putting up with me when I was problematic or resisted her advice, and for giving me a shoulder to cry on when I needed it. And as much as anything else, I thank her for being my strong female role model.

I love cooking for my Mom now -- a little positive payback for all the meals she made for me over the years, all of those delicious grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, tasty dinner dishes, and decadent desserts. I recently made my first attempt at sauerbraten, one of her favorite all-time dishes. I am not terribly familiar with the dish, nor with German food in general (her favorite), but I pulled together what I thought would be the best ideas from many different recipes, and tried to combine them to make one great meal. I sauteed mushrooms with roasted potatoes, and I cooked red cabbage in apple cider vinegar, herbs, and spices. I'm not sure if I succeeded with this foray into classic German home cooking, but my Mom certainly gobbled up the food...for 3 nights in a row. I think it tasted better because she knew it was made with love. The perfect dessert afterwards? A cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream. With two spoons.

 

SEASONAL INGREDIENT: Watercress

I'm not a big fan of bitter. Bitter food, bitter drinks, bitter people: not my thing. Except for greens. I adore bitter greens in their many forms: from arugula to puntarelle, chard to endive to radicchio, they make me happy. I think I developed a palate for bitter greens with all my time spent living in Italy. Their bracing flavor can stand up to a powerful dressing or sauce, including the many versions of a "Caesar" dressing that are so often paired with crisp, bitter greens. A slick of olive oil, the bite of garlic and pepper, the salty, umami zing of parmigiano cheese, cut through by the acid of citrus juice or vinegar...well, I'll stop here. Because I want to name-drop my favorite of all bitter greens: watercress. It's not so much straight-up bitter as it is peppery, spicy. Perhaps that's why I adore it. And its versatility.

Spring is the perfect season for watercress and its varietals (try upland cress, sold still attached to its roots, and just snip and sprinkle into salads or over grilled fish or meat). It's so much more than a simple accompaniment for the classic English tea sandwiches of "egg and cress": egg salad bound with mayonnaise and spread on white bread, topped with watercress, and cut into crustless triangles. Don't get me wrong, these sandwiches have their place, and I adore them as part of a classic English high tea, or as cocktail nibbles at spring soirees. But watercress in a salad breathes life into an overused mesclun mix. I love the bite and plump crispy leaves when tossed with fresh herbs in a salad. I particularly love the salad pictured here, which I make with roasted butternut squash cubes, goat cheese OR gorgonzola, pumpkin seeds, and pomegranate arils. I like to bring it together with a sweet-tart pomegranate vinaigrette.  

One of my favorite dishes of one of my very favorite cuisines -- Vietnamese -- is shaking beef, a wonderful combination of vinegar- and soy-marinated beef fillet cubes cooked with onions and served on crispy watercress, which absorbs the sauce but doesn't wilt much (another benefit of this wonderful green). And speaking of benefits, watercress is an incredibly healthy green among greens, as well as among other fruits and vegetables. It boasts more calcium than milk, more vitamin C than an orange and more absorbable iron than spinach. It's rich in vitamins C, B1, B6, K, E, Iron, Calcium, Magnesium, Manganese, and Zinc. And it contains more potassium than apples, broccoli, and tomatoes. Not bad for a spring salad green!

 

QUICK BITE: CHEF, the movie

I love being a part of the food world, and I've always been a big film fan as well. Today I found myself at the crossroads of food and film at a screening of the soon-to-be-released movie, "Chef," starring, written and directed by local boy Jon Favreau. The film was screened as part of the Tribeca Film Festival last night here in New York, so Mr. Favreau was on hand after the screening today for a discussion and Q&A with Peter Travers of Rolling Stone magazine. The movie itself is a fun, realistic story about a chef in L.A. who's in a creative rut. Although he wants to break this rut with interesting, inspiring dishes, he still has to answer to "the man" -- as in the restaurant owner, played by Dustin Hoffman. New to social media and egged on by his kitchen staffers and his 10 year-old son, the chef joins the Twitterverse, which eventually takes a somewhat tragic turn (technology in the hands of the uninitiated!) as his rant against a hateful food critic goes viral. He eventually quits his job and decides to start a food truck, therefore feeding his soul as a chef, as it were. It's not a complicated conceit, and despite some prominent cast members, it's got an indie feel, harking back to Favreau's fabulous "Swingers" from the '90s. It's pleasant, and lighthearted, and anyone who's ever worked the back of house will recognize a lot of familiar sights, sounds, and situations throughout the film. Casting note: the kid who plays the chef's son in the movie, Emjay Anthony, is adorable, with real acting chops.

A few fun facts from behind the scenes? Roy Choi, LA's food truck king (and who happens to share a similar backstory to that of the chef in the movie), was the "trainer" chef on this film, demostrating to Favreau how to make his chef character physically, actively convincing. He worked in conjunction with the food stylist to make sure both the chefs' screen time, and the food shots, were realistic and enticing. To Favreau's credit, these scenes are gorgeous and really shot well. As a professional, watching the process, I could taste every ingredient and every dish as it was created and plated: truly mouth-watering kitchen visuals. Another fun fact is that actor Oliver Platt played the petulant critic with the make-or-break restaurant blog, a role with which he's somewhat familiar: his brother Adam is the food critic for New York Magazine.

CHEF hits theaters May 9th.

Trailer:
http://variety.com/2014/tv/news/jon-favreaus-chef-serves-up-first-trailer-1201153686/

ESCAPES: Charleston, South Carolina, Part 1

 

There's something about Charleston. It's a small, charming, typically Southern city on a Peninsula between two rivers that converge and feed into the Atlantic. Its pace is as languid and flowing as the locals' drawl. Even the way they pronounce their hometown echoes this: Chaaahhhlston, emphasis on the "ahhh." 

It's a town full of dichotomies: as charming and European as it is steadfastly American and conservative, firmly rooted in the past, but with a young population and a dynamic culture and arts scene that's moving the city swiftly into the future. It's full of classic Federalist architecture and churches aplenty, though its colorful "Charleston single" homes (one bedroom wide, long, with plenty of balcony and porch space to capitalize on any breeze) are built for the semitropical climate and rampant bourbon-soaked socializing of its residents. Its past is marred by its prominence in the propagation of the slave trade, though it's also historically known for its religious tolerance, particularly to minorities like Jews and Huguenots. It's where the Civil War began, quite literally, at Fort Sumter, though it's as peaceful and civilized a place now as you'll find in this part of the United States.

I love the south, I went to college in the south, and I know a lot of amazing people who hail from the south, including the state of South Carolina. Perhaps all of Charleston's dichotomies are what make this small southern belle of a city so interesting to me. Maybe that's why I've felt its pull for so many years. Nah...it's the food. The low country cuisine. Particularly the shrimp and grits. And the ham. Make that all pork products. And the fried chicken. And the fried anything. And the pickled, spicy, savory, sweet, delicious cooking of the Southern tradition. The whole country has been abuzz this past decade about the restaurant scene in Charleston. And I needed to get a taste for myself.

Where did I start? With Sean Brock, of course. One of the city's top toques and a staunch Southern foodways proponent, Brock owns both McCrady's, for many years an upscale staple in downtown Charleston, and Husk, a newer, dressed-down southern restaurant with fun, rustic charm and some seriously good food coming out of its kitchen. Brock believes in keeping things local, procuring from producers whom he knows and trusts, and looking to food history and products and dishes of a past era to inform his cooking. This is evident in the care he takes composing a dish, plating a dish, and in educating his serving staff as well so they can communicate this information to the diners. 

Our first night in Charleston we had a very enthusiastic and informed server (who was also a UVa. alumna with an English degree, much like yours truly!) at McCrady's, who walked us through her favorite dishes and ones about which we'd inquired, steering us towards a very delicious set of appetizers. We had the bay scallops over hominy, with butter peas and red mustard, and the sweetbreads with Appalachian red corn puree, green garlic and a lovage foam. Our fish courses were delicious and light, particularly the trout with brassicas (cruciferous veggies like broccoli and cabbage) and meyer lemon gel. The meat courses were a study in small portions of rich, densely flavorful cuts -- and not about making the protein the center of the dish, both literally and figuratively. Brock plates his food like no other chef I've encountered, often setting the proteins or the "main" of the dish off to the side, and letting what are often considered "sides" take center stage on the plate. 

The Wagyu beef coulotte with smoked potato puree and wild mushrooms was delicious, deeply tasty, and tender as could be. And the duo of Berkshire pork -- braised and seared belly, and tenderloin -- was marbled and crispy and tender in all the right places, with an interesting pumpkin brunoise (tiny dice) cooked various different ways and tossed together. The accompanying balsamic reduction and truffled honey sauces were the high and low notes of acidity and sweetness to both cut the richness and enhance the pork. Dessert was a local affair, too, with the better dessert a "frozen parfait of grits" -- that is, hominy ground so fine as to become a cornmeal powder, cooked like smooth creamy grits and then frozen like a semifreddo. This was served on a wild blueberry sauce and topped with a whisper-thin cornmeal biscuit, pressed into crispy perfection.

Husk is so immensely popular that the only meal for which I could nab a reservation was for lunch on Saturday. The line was out the door, regardless. It's a relatively casual spot, and a wonderful place to while away a few hours for brunch or lunch on a weekend, particularly if the weather is mild with a nice breeze. The outdoor balcony tables upstairs were made for that. But the inside dining rooms are warm and homey, too, a comfortable place to work your way through Brock's tasty menu. Drinks are given their own menu, so beyond the wine list, there are a few craft beers, as well as house-made cocktails featuring southern booze, like the "A Yard Too Far" with vanilla and ginger macerated bourbon, pecan orgeat, and pecan bitters: strong and smooth. Also of interest is the extensive cider menu, a reflection of a drink-making tradition that at one time outpaced beer production and consumption in the U.S. As for food, Husk will only work with ingredients that come from the South. Period. Of course, this leaves the kitchen with a lot to work with. The menu changes pretty much weekly, so you may or may not come across the same dishes we did, depending on the season and the creative whims of the kitchen. 

We started with some tasty smoked chicken wings with a honey mustard glaze, peanuts, and cilantro. Asian-Southern. That was accompanied by a "Southern Panzanella" -- a typically Tuscan bread and vegetable salad here using cornbread croutons and a roasted red pepper puree.We went with some fairly "traditional" dishes as mains, but they were prepared in quite non-traditional ways. 

Husk's version of shrimp and grits was a lot of smoke: there were the shrimp and Geechie Boy (local) grits, but also spring onions, sweet peas, homemade cotechino sausage, all brought together in a smoky tomato broth. Served in an earthenware pot, this was an earthy, soupy one-bowl meal that would work for breakfast, lunch, brunch, or dinner. I also had a perfectly-prepared cornmeal-crusted catfish fillet -- not something I'd usually select from a menu, mind you. But this was light, with a thin but crunchy crust encasing a firm, white flaky fish. This was nestled on a bed of sauteed cabbage, red beans, and a roasted Appalachian tomato sauce. It was so much more flavorful than I could ever make it sound, but just know that this is the essence of simple ingredients coming together and shining in a way that is much greater than the sum of their parts. A side of broccoli in a vadouvan curry sauce (a French-Indian hybrid) with shallots was just the shot of green we needed among the seafood and starch. 

Some suggestions for where to stay and what to see while in Charleston? I highly recommend the lovely Vendue Inn for a cozy, authentic, warm welcome and possibly the most comfortable king size bed I've ever slept in...and the fireplace, exposed brick walls, chandelier over the bed, and the wood beam ceilings didn't hurt. It's a gorgeous place to retire at the end of a long dinner and some post-prandial drinks, perhaps at the super-casual pub next door, The Griffon. Or try The Gin Joint, another small spot around the corner serving handmade Prohibition-style cocktails and "nibbly bits" to line the stomach. There are plenty of bars and local spots with live music, and East Bay Street south of the market is chock full of places to drink, eat, and listen. 

The Gibbes Museum of Art is a nice choice for art enthusiasts, with mostly American pieces, many relating to the South and its history. Try a carriage ride from any one of several companies offering them, many leaving from North Market Street. They'll give you an overview of the city and its layout so you can check out points of interest later, on foot. Speaking of on foot -- which is, by the way, the best way to see much of Charleston's downtown -- the Waterfront Park (Vendue Range at Concord Street) is a lovely stretch along the Cooper River where you can meander on a waterside path, look out over Charleston Harbor, visit the two famous fountains including the iconic pineapple fountain, and take a break in a shaded swing looking out to the water. Head to the southern tip of the peninsula and take a stroll along The Battery, where the gorgeous homes of Charleston's elite overlook the convergence of the Cooper and Ashley Rivers. It's a great place to jog or walk a dog, or just soak in some southern spring sunshine. 

More delicious dishing on Charleston to come...

Mc Crady's

2 Unity Alley

(843) 577-0025

www.mccradysrestaurant.com

 

Husk

76 Queen Street

(843) 577-2500

www.huskrestaurant.com

Vendue Inn

19 Vendue Range

(843) 577-7970

www.vendueinn.com

The Griffon

18 Vendue Range 

(843) 723-1700

www.griffoncharleston.com

The Gin Joint

182 East Bay Street

(843) 577-6111

www.theginjoint.com

Gibbes Museum of Art

135 Meeting Street

(843) 722-2706

www.gibbesmuseum.org

QUICK BITE: Salmon with Mustard Cream Sauce

It's been a long winter. Yes, the understatement of the year. I'm writing now in New York City, where it's a cool 33 degrees and almost April. This makes everyone in the city a little stir-crazy, itching for the thaw of spring weather and fresh green anything. Personally, I've had it with "restorative" soups and stews, braised meats and root vegetables galore -- much as I love these items in the thick of winter's cold. So, what to make when the mercury says it's still winter but our hearts, minds, and palates are aching for spring? Salmon with mustard cream sauce is the perfect "bridge" dish between the seasons. 

We all know by now that salmon boasts lots of Omega-3 fatty acids and that it's one of the most healthful varieties of fish to consume. A tangy mustard-cream sauce is a classic accompaniment that really brightens the fish and cuts its strong flavor and richness with zing. Adding a bit of freshly chopped dill to the sauce is a classic herbal touch, though not necessary. Pairing the fish with some winter veggies -- we do have to clear out our fridges of beloved winter greens somehow, don't we? -- grounds the meal in the now while we look towards the coming spring with open arms (and full bellies!). Roasted beets, sauteed brocoletti (with plenty of garlic and chili pepper), and a long grain and wild rice combo are the perfect sides to make this a well-rounded dinner. A mix of color is the easiest way for you to create a balanced meal without much effort.

How to make the sauce? Simple. You can use the same pan you use to cook the salmon.

First, heat some olive oil in a saute' pan (nonstick is best). Sprinkle the salmon fillet with plenty of salt, and place in the pan. Note: if you have the skin on the fillet, you can place it skin side down in the pan first, to crisp it up. Otherwise, put the top side down.

Second, sear for 3-4 minutes on the first side so it releases from the pan easily. Flip, and cook on the other side for another 4 minutes or so. Salmon is best served medium-rare to medium (if you like it cooked through, you can place in a 350-degree oven to finish).

Third, remove salmon fillet from pan, and pour about 1/2 cup heavy cream into the pan. Add 1-2 tablespoons of grainy dijon mustard, and gently whisk to mix completely. Cook for 2-3 minutes until the sauce thickens a bit. Add salt to taste, and if you're adding chopped dill (chives or parsley work well, too), do that at the very end. Mix, taste for seasoning, and then  pour the sauce around the salmon fillet and any sides you like. Come spring, this salmon-and-sauce works extremely well with simple seared asparagus, as in the photo above. 

Enjoy, and here's to a tasty, soon-to-arrive SPRING!

ESCAPES: Chile's Central Coast: Valparaiso and Viña del Mar

At this point in the winter season, when we've all had our fill of snow and frigid temperatures, our sights turn to warmer climates and waterside escapes. One appealing antidote? Chile. And specifically, Chile's Central Coast featuring the towns of Valparaiso and Viña del Mar.

After a long holiday season filled with seemingly endless work hours for both myself and my friend Jessica (a dear friend of mine from my time in Rome who returned to her childhood hometown of Providence, Rhode Island when she left Italy), we were looking for an escape. She's a jewelry designer in constant search of quirky keepsakes from her travels, which she then "translates" into original pieces of wearable art. I'm a chef in constant search of new flavors and cultures from which to draw inspiration in the kitchen. We travel well together. And we decided Chile would be the perfect spot: it offered warm weather in December and January (southern hemisphere summer), good food (ceviche!), good wine (more on that in another post), and interesting and eclectic culture and history (always a good thing for market trips, sightseeing, and interesting travel). An added bonus for me? The beach! With the help of suggestions from a dear high school friend who'd moved to Chile a few years ago, we were able to cobble together a nice 10 day vacation with work benefits built in. We began and ended our journey in the Chilean capital of Santiago (look for my Santiago dining post to come soon), but spent New Year's Eve, and several relaxing days afterwards, kicking off the new year in sunny, 85 degree weather on the Pacific. And though these two sister towns are right next to each other, they offer visitors a yin and yang of Chile's central coast.

Valparaiso

Valparaiso ("Paradise Valley") is historically a port town -- until the Panama Canal opened, it was South America's busiest -- a working class city-on-a-hill. Actually, it's built on more than 45 hills, or cerros, which are covered with colorfully-painted houses, often constructed out of the corrugated metal torn from shipping containers, that look like candy confections tossed on undulating hills tumbling towards an azure sea. "Valpo" as it's called, is Chile's second-largest metropolitan area, and though it's on the sea, it's not a beach town. It's a somewhat chaotic jumble of South American culture and topography, Caribbean color, Germanic and Slavic immigrant influences in architecture and food, and a summertime climate that mirrors L.A. in the daytime and San Francisco at night. Confusing, yes. Eclectic, of course. And it's a lovely place to pass a few languid days recovering from New Year's Eve.

First off, I must mention Valpo's impressive fireworks display. Until the last couple of years (when a certain Middle Eastern city decided theirs needed to be the biggest and brightest on the planet), Valpo's fireworks show was the most expansive and explosive in the world. After having seen it, frankly I'm not sure I'd want one larger or longer. At just under a half an hour, and done over the C-shaped bay that runs along the Pacific coast to several towns north, the fireworks display was synchronized so you could see the grand fireworks right in front of you as well as those in the distance, all themed the same with the same colors displaying at the same time: really something to behold. We celebrated at a restaurant/bar/music hall called La Piedra Feliz, right on the water in the Errázurizneighborhood. 

It was probably the busiest area in the city that night, and knowing public transportation was sketchy for the holiday, forewarned was forearmed: we walked from our lovely apartment across town to the restaurant, and were able to see most of the waterfront area of Valpo in the process. Once we (finally!) arrived, we enjoyed a prix fixe dinner with plenty of champagne and pisco sours. We watched the fireworks out of the window of the restaurant on the second floor, and many locals were gathered on the street below us. Once we toasted to 2014, we wandered around the place -- live music and dancing were everywhere, but of course as a chef, I found my way to hanging out at the bar with the staff: our waiter and the Uruguayan chef, and some locals who were friendly and fun...and made sure we never saw the bottoms of our glasses of delicious Chilean red wine.

We were excited to eat the fresh seafood for which Chile is justly famous, so our dinner hours were spent seeking out great fish spots -- and of course for me, this trip was the "Cevichepalooza" I'd been craving, so I had it at every meal I could manage! At Oda Pacifico, we had the place practically to ourselves, and enjoyed the view out over the hills down to the water (it got windy and chilly the night we went, though it would normally be lovely to sit at a table outside on the back patio). Service here, as in most places we went, was slow but extremely warm, and our waiter advised us on what was fresh that evening. We started with a massive portion of mixed seafood ceviche with passion fruit -- two of my favorite things in the world, together in a big bowl! It was delicious, and perfect with our crisp Chilean sauvignon blanc.

Main courses couldn't live up to the ceviche, but I enjoyed a local specialty: conger eel, here grilled and served over a stew of tomatoes, corn, and peas, topped with peppery watercress. Jess had tilapia cooked in a banana leaf, with a coconut-laced sauce. Again, the portions were huge and we couldn't come close to finishing them, but we did manage to wash it all down with more vino blanco. We were on vacation, after all.

Valpo has countless great vistas from which to view the port and the water below, but one destination on a hill, and viewpoint not to be missed, is poet Pablo Neruda's local home, La Sebastiana. The cozy multi-level house resembles part of a ship and fits in perfectly among the pastel houses surrounding it. The decor is often nautically themed, and is quirky and built to entertain, much like the man himself. It's filled with glasses and plates and artwork and bric-a-brac from Neruda's world travels, and like all of his homes, there is a dedicated bar area where he would mix libations for his guests after a day of writing. The view from his home is undoubtedly inspiring.

Viña del Mar

Just next door is Valparaiso's louder, more social sibling,Viña del Mar. It is the Miami Beach of Chile, to put it in U.S. terms, and it's bustling and full of life while Valpo is relaxed and laid back. The shoreline is both rocky and sandy at turns, and the lawns and flower beds are as manicured as the high-rise hotels and condos lining the beach. There is a downtown as well, and boulevards lined with shops and malls and churches and outdoor arcades. This is no sleepy beach town, and it's been the place where locals and the wealthy and famous from Santiago come to play, where they have second homes. It lacks the character and vistas that Valparaiso has, but it makes up for that with the beauty of the coast and the lively, infectious atmosphere in its streets.

As for the food scene in Viña? Again, seafood is king here, but the variety of dining options is greater. Chile has great primary ingredients, great wine, great pisco. But as for a native cuisine, its neighbor Peru is better known. Case in point? All the ceviches. Seviche, as it's usually written here, comes in so many varieties that it makes sense to go for a sampling of types. At Sazon Peruana, we indulged in the trio at left, which included an octopus seviche with aji amarillo, the spicy Peruvian yellow pepper, as the base. We had local white fish with sweet potato and choclo, the ubiquitous oversized corn kernels. And we had salmon and shrimp with leche de tigre (the citrus juice and spice base of most seviches) with red pepper. I could have bathed in the stuff. We enjoyed mixed grilled seafood atop a salad.

Jess had the seafood soup, a slightly spicy stew of local treats from the Pacific made more substantial with yellow potatoes. And I pushed the boat out, as it were, with a light-as-air fried seafood platter (shrimp, squid, Chilean sea bass) with yucca, tartar sauce, and salsa criolla -- a topping of thinly sliced red onion, cilantro, and fresh chile pepper. The meal at the Peruvian restaurant turned out to be one of the best meals of my trip to Chile!

In Valpo, we lived like locals, renting an apartment in a residential area with a gorgeous view of the entire city from our balcony. In Viña del Mar, we went touristy -- but sometimes, you need to splurge. 

The Sheraton Miramar is perched on a rocky curve of the coast, on the way into town, and it jettisons out into the bright blue-green Pacific. All glass-and-steel, with soaring ceilings, this location was clearly built to allow guests the greatest appreciation of the sea. The shot above was taken from our balcony: the seats to the left are outdoor restaurant tables, as scenic for a seaside lunch as they are in the evening for dinner and drinks, to view the sparkling lights of the bay surrounding you. The pool overlooking the sea is a dramatic spot for sunbathing, by water both salty and fresh. Attached, there is a wonderful spa and gym where you can work up a sweat and then relax with a massage or facial. Not a bad way to pass an afternoon in January!

All in, we had a wonderful time on Chile's central coast -- not enough time, in fact. There were so many small beach towns lining the coasts both north and south of the Valpo area and we weren't staying long enough to explore them. Places like nearby Reñaca, surfer's paradise Concón, former whaling town Quintay, and the beautiful and aristocratic town of Zapallar: each offer a different taste of this stretch of the Chilean coast. We did make it to Quintero for an afternoon of lazing on the beach and eating empanadas, though it took a mini-hike to discover some less-trodden beach paths. Most of the beaches are rocky, and it's hard to get out of sight of the huge tankers that seem to be permanently parked in this part of the Pacific. But the water is beautiful and the trees and topography are stunning. Another positive? We were the only gringas in sight, always a good sign.

La Piedra Feliz

Avenida Err 1054

Valparaiso

+56 (32) 225.6788

www.lapiedrafeliz.cl

Oda Pacifico

Condor 35

Valparaiso

+56 (32) 223.8836

www.odapacifico.cl

La Sebastiana

Ferrari 692

Valparaiso

www.neruda.cl

+56 (32) 225.6606

SHERATON MIRAMAR

Avenida Marina 15

Viña del Mar

+56 (32) 238.8600

www.sheraton.cl

Sazon Peruana

3 Norte 370 Esquina 3 1/2 Poniente

Viña del Mar

+56 (32) 319.1160

www.sazonperuana.cl

RECIPE: Mid-Winter Grain Salad

This has been one loooong winter for the United States, and it's been a freezing, incredibly snowy one for those of us in the Northeast. I've been cooking lots of soups, and will continue to do so, and to enjoy their warming comfort until I can no longer stand to ladle a spoon of hot broth to my lips (a word to Mother Nature: that day is coming soon!) And I love my seasonal winter foods and comfort meals -- stews, roasted meats, root veggies, a nice afternoon tea with accompanying biscuits. But to brighten up my winter repertoire, a seasonal mid-winter grain saladis just the thing to give my palate a much-needed lift.

To start: pick a grain. I chose bulgur wheat here, as it's inexpensive, nutritionally sound, and one of the many bags of grains I had on hand in my pantry. Bulgur wheat has already been parboiled and dried when we purchase it, so technically it doesn't need to be boiled again to be reconstituted. But one excellent trick I've learned over the years, to add flavor and zing to this grain and eventually the dishes in which it ends up, is to cook the bulgur in a juice that will add flavor and color to the grain when it's cooked. Here I use a beet-carrot-green apple-lemon freshly pressed juice to give the wheat character and a bright color, not to mention added nutritional value as the grain absorbs the juice.

A second element that makes this salad soar is its use of various textures. The grain itself is nutty, chewy. Most grains are. I add crunch with a small dice of celery and green apple. Ditto the pomegranate arils. A softness comes from the roasted cubed butternut squash.

The third element is flavor. There's a great interplay between nutty (the grain) and vegetal (celery, parsley), sweet (the squash) and sour (pomegranate, apple). The vinaigrette, which contains rice vinegar as well as lemon juice, brightens everything with an acidic kick. The beauty is that the elements can be substituted and played with, according to what's on hand and what's in season -- and of course, what you like. 

I often add some red onion chopped finely, or shallot. I also sometimes add nuts for additional crunch, like pine nuts or chopped pecans, hazelnuts, almonds, pistachios, or walnuts. And in spring and summer I add seasonal veggies and fruits, swapping out the butternut squash for zucchini or asparagus or cherry tomatoes, the pomegranate for summer berries or stone fruit. Parsley can be substituted by abundant summer basil, and so on. And the vinaigrette can be played with, so instead of rice vinegar, use white balsamic, or raspberry vinegar, or sherry vinegar. Use avocado oil, or try pumpkin seed oil with pumpkin seeds as the nut in the salad. Use your imagination! And enjoy a healthy grain salad, mid-winter or any time. 

MID-WINTER BULGUR WHEAT SALAD

1 cup bulgur wheat

2 1/2 cups beet-carrot-apple-lemon juice

1 butternut squash, peeled and cubed into 1/2-inch dice

1 green apple, chopped into 1/4-inch dice

1/2 cup pomegranate arils

1/2 cup celery, chopped into 1/4-inch dice

1/2 bunch flat-leaf parsley, chopped

1/8 cup rice vinegar

1 TBSP. dijon mustard

2 TBSP. ponzu

1 TSP. lemon juice

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

- Preheat an oven to 375 degrees F. Place the diced butternut squash on a baking sheet, sprinkle with salt and drizzle with olive oil, and toss with hands to coat evenly.

- Roast the butternut squash in the oven, tossing occasionally to cook evenly, until browned and starting to caramelize on the outside, about 30-45 minutes depending on the power of your oven. Set aside to cool.

- In a pot, bring the bulgur wheat and juice to a boil and cook covered until fully absorbed, about 8 minutes.Dump in a bowl and set aside to cool.

- Whisk together rice vinegar, dijon, ponzu, lemon juice, and salt and pepper. In a slow stream, add the oil and whisk to emulsify. This is your vinaigrette.

- Once the bulgur and butternut squash cool, mix together in a bowl with the celery, pomegranate, green apple, and parsley. Toss to mix.

- Drizzle the vinaigrette on top and toss again to mix.

*This salad is delicious right away, but as it sits in its dressing, the flavor improves, making it another example of a dish that gets better with age.