Victoria Abbott Riccardi

My article on Blue Hill at Stone Barns restaurant ran in yesterday’s travel section of The Boston Globe.

THE ARTICLE: http://www.bostonglobe.com/lifestyle/travel/2012/05/12/blue-hill-stone-barns-restaurant-pocantico-hills-inventive-dishes-keep-coming/UDbIMwjS1jXoxjImfqQT3H/story.html

Stone Barns Center for Food and Agriculture is an extraordinary nonprofit organization that aims to help children and adults understand the value of eating healthy, sustainable food and learn how to grow it in an organic and sustainable way.

The restaurant brings this mission alive by offering multi-course meals made with local, organic ingredients.

Imagine if schools, hospitals, and businesses across America believed in this same concept, thus enabling children, the sick and healing, and working folks to enjoy a natural, healthy diet that comes from yet  safeguards the earth.

It started with the icemaker, which after 9 years decided to stop producing cubes. So much for John’s “extra-cold” martinis.

That was one month ago. I went on-line to see what the problem might be and based on reading numerous discussions, concluded that a plug of ice was blocking the water line. “Hello, Mr. Plumber, could you come check out the water line?” The plumber came and the line was fine. Still no ice.

About two weeks ago the freezer began making funny noises–a fast whizzing sound, followed by a few seconds of silence. More whizzing, more silence. The next morning, the milk in the fridge had turned sour. The freezer was warm. I had to go to Utah for 4 days. When I returned, I called a repair person, who replaced the start switch. Still no ice. The refrigerator was humming away, but not cold.

Clearly, it was time to buy a new fridge. But what kind to buy?  The Whirlpool model we bought 9 years ago was a top pick for value and quality on Consumer Reports. Admittedly, we’d never had a problem with it, until it conked out. Since I wasn’t ready to buy fancy foodie fridge, I went on-line and looked at mid-level models with a top freezer. I needed it in a certain size. I wanted it immediately and in black to match our dishwasher and stove.

Yesterday, I drove to my local Lowes store. Mark was on duty and showed me the various models. When he told me he was a part-time fire fighter in my town, I felt we’d reached a new level of understanding. “Okay, Mark,” I said lowering my voice, “what’s the best fridge? Honesty.” Mark brought me over to a line of refrigerators and pointed to several that fit my criteria–Whirlpool, Maytag, and Frigidaire–all the right size, with a top freezer, and black.

“They’re pretty much the same,” he said, gesturing to the line. I told him about the second fridge in our cellar that came with the house when we purchased it over 15 years ago and still worked like a dream. 

“Yup, I know,” he said, shaking his head. “They just don’t make ‘em like they used to. Nowadays, they break all the time.” Great, I thought. Gotta love the American economy. Build things cheap so they’ll break.

This afternoon my new black Whirlpool fridge will arrive.  I’ve emptied out the contents of the old fridge–seems my husband, John, and I live on condiments–and look forward to filling the new one. 

Mark told me the icemaker would be free. I also could get a $50 rebate from Energy Star. I thanked him for everything. “See yah later,” he said smiling. “Let’s hope not in Newton!” I said with a nervous laugh.

Well, that was last week. Friday afternoon the delivery truck broke down. The delivery was delayed. At 6:30pm on Friday I cancelled the delivery because I had a dinner to attend. Back into the old, warm fridge went all my condiments. I put the milk, yogurt, and eggs in the basement fridge and the fruit and veggies in a box outside, since it’s been in the low 40′s recently. This morning–Monday–the new fridge arrived. Yay! “But we don’t install the icemaker,” said the delivery man. “It’s not in our contract.” Oh, no. I called my friend, Mark, at Lowes.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “Can you help?” Mark told me they don’t install icemakers. Had I known that, I would have bought a fridge with the icemaker already installed. “Please, could you send someone?” Mark, paused, and then agreed. A few minutes later Mark’s supervisor called the delivery man. Suddenly, the delivery man was attaching the icemaker!

“For you,” he said. “I’m doing this for you and my boss (at Lowes). He’s a good guy.” Four hours later, I have a new fridge. It’s smaller than my old one–despite being the same model–and the holding bins are more flimsy. However, just a few minutes ago I just heard a sweet sound–the kerplunk of an ice cube dropping into the holding bin. Tonight, I just might have to celebrate with a martini.

One of the unexpected pleasures of writing about food is the occasional goodie that arrives in the mail. Last week the kind and talented folks at Rainier Fruit Company in Selah, Washington–founded in 1888 and one of the largest apple, pear, blueberry, and cherry growers in the country–sent me a box of Lady Alice apples. Oh, my. Hard, crisp, and juicy with a winey, tart-sweet flavor, these apples have become a new favorite. They’re beautiful too–pinkish red with a soft yellow blush.

Although Lady Alice apples were discovered in 1978 by an apple grower in Gleed, Washington, Rainier introduced them only three years ago. They spent decades working to propagate the seedlings best characteristics and then named them after the company founder’s mother, Alice.

What’s special about these apples, aside from their rich flavor, is their availability. Supermarkets nationwide sell them from February through April, which means you can enjoy a snappy, fresh apple during a time when most other apples have become soft and mealy. That’s because most supermarket apples are harvested in the fall and then held in cold storage throughout the rest of the year.

While these apples can be cooked, I think they’re best enjoyed fresh. You can smear them with roasted almond butter, add them to plain goat’s milk yogurt sweetened with pure maple syrup, or toss them with slivered endive, crumbled aged goat cheese, toasted pistachio nuts, and a balsamic vinaigrette for an early spring salad. Then, again, you can savor them plain and simple–just cut into wedges, as I did this morning.

Nothing like a trip to Manhattan to nourish one’s passion for art, culture, and great food.

John and I took the fast train to New York City, whereupon I kicked off the morning with coffee and conversation with my wonderful VIV magazine editor. Next came lunch with friends at A Voce Columbus, a fresh, light Italian restaurant in the Time Warner Center. A walk through Central Park brought us to The Frick Collection, where we saw the Renoir exhibit (small, but delightful). I had forgotten how beautiful the Frick is what with that tranquil, white marble pool area lined with flowers and plants and the various rooms filled with exquisite decorative arts. (Photos are off  The Frick Collection’s website.)

That night we supped at Felice Wine Bar (65th and 1st), a candlelit nook, where we ordered excellent wines by the glass and small plates, like shaved raw artichoke and arugula salad; oily Brussels sprouts with bacon; and various crostini topped with sauteed mushrooms, burrata, prosciutto and other goodies. It was homey Italian comfort food at its best.

Saturday brought warmth, sunshine, and excellent morning coffee at Joe the Art of Coffee, which I’d read about in a New York Times piece about the best new coffee spots in the city. The basic drip was earthy, rich, and deeply satisfying. We went to the one in Grand Central Station, which has been renovated since I last saw it and has an impressive food hall, enticing restaurant stalls, and several cute shops. From there, we strolled up to the MET to see the American Wing–wow! So many treasures, so well organized, so informative. More walking and then a so-so dinner at Dovetail on the west side. Not only were we given the least attractive table in the house (cramped and next to the kitchen), but it wasn’t even ready when we arrived. The food was good, not great, and extremely pricey. Suffice it to say, I won’t recommend Dovetail or go back.

But I will return to Chinatown, a bustling part of the Big Apple that’s fragrant with incense and grilling meat and ripe with the anticipation of a great meal. It reminds me of Hong Kong, one of my top three favorite cities in the world (along with Paris and Kyoto).

After a long wait, we finally got a table for two at the Golden Unicorn Restaurant, where we ordered a flurry of dishes from the rolling carts: steamed buns filled with BBQ pork; sauteed Chinese broccoli; bean curd rolls; shrimp shumai; fried calamari and cashews; crescent rice flour dumplings filled with watercress, round rice flour dumplings stuffed with veggies, pork and peanuts, and round rice flour dumplings crisped in oil and filled with veggies and shrimp. Yum! It was the perfect prelude to an afternoon performance of War Horse, which won five Tony awards. And, for good reason. It’s a moving story and the choreography was superb.

We left the theater and walked down 9th Avenue to 43rd for dinner at Esca, the seafood-centric restaurant owned by Mario Batali, Joseph Bastianich, and Dave Pasternack. Done up in tones of cream and dark wood, it has an elegant, yet casual feel. Over a bottle of crisp white wine, we shared grilled octopus over white beans (smoky and robust), creamy sea urchin spaghetti (unctuous), tuna belly “bacon” with a farm egg (too salty), grilled bass, and a chocolate-hazelnut ricotta cannoli (heavy, but good).

Sweet dreams and then the train ride up to Boston the next day, during which we reflected on the fullness of our weekend.

Dinner has always been my favorite meal of the day. It represents a closing of the loop–a time to leave the frenetic outside world and come home, change into something soft and comfortable, create a wholesome meal, and enjoy it with those you love, even if it’s yourself.

So an evening art course has thrown me for a loop. For the past several years I have been taking classes in printmaking, which I adore, as I do photography. Thus, when the Museum of Fine Arts School in Boston offered a class called Photo and Digital Applications in Printmaking, I had to take it.

It’s been fabulous and I am learning so much. The teeny, weeny problem is what to have for dinner. The class begins at 6:30pm, but everyone arrives around 5pm in order to use the various photo and printmaking machines, which are limited. There isn’t any time for a break and eating when I get home around 10:30pm seems a tad unhealthy.

Ergo, the small culinary conundrum. Big breakfast, late lunch? Normal breakfast, tiny lunch, early dinner?

Thus far, my strategy is to bring some snacks–something veggie related, like these crispy seaweed sheets, which taste like potato chips!

I also bring Japanese rice crackers, like this big one studded with black sesame seeds.

A piece of fruit, like an orange, is a nice option, as are plain, unsalted roasted peanuts for protein.

Look at the hole in the plastic bag! See that the bag is empty.

Note the mouse droppings (the tiny black rice-shaped things) in the blue bag.

When I came home last night I left my art bag on a chair in the kitchen holding my unfinished bag of peanuts. Guess who ate them in the dark of night?  Not me. Not John. Hmm….

What does a food and travel writer eat for a birthday breakfast? It depends upon the person, of course, as well as the day’s flow. I wanted something that would feel special, but light, since I was having dinner at my absolute favorite Boston restaurant–Mistral. I adore their crisp-skinned duck and order it every time I go.

In putting together this morning meal I was reminded of how lovely it is to place your food on nice dishes. You also want to arrange it artfully–not just plop it down in a big, fat heap. I learned all this in Japan, where I came to appreciate that every bowl, plate, or platter has a story, based on how you acquire it. Using certain dishes evokes specific memories and taking the time to arrange your food in a delicate way creates a more thoughtful and pleasing moment at the table.

So, here is what I made. I began, as I always do, with a large mug of coffee. I usually use an equal mix of Starbucks decaf Sumatra and Gold Coast blend (both dark roasts), ground at six, and dripped through a paper filter. Having just returned from Costa Rica, where I drank some excellent organic coffee, I’m on the hunt for a syrupy, robust organic bean and new brand. The mug comes from a pottery store in Deruta, which I visited this summer.

The rectangular ceramic plate holding the various tidbits was a gift my husband gave me several years ago for Christmas. It looks Japanese and he knew I’d adore it. I do! On the left of the plate sits a tiny dish I bought in Japan. I usually use it to hold soy sauce, but felt it would be perfect holding a few chunks of pineapple (from Costa Rica, no less). If you look closely, you’ll see a crack at the top of the dish. I broke the saucer several years ago, but glued it together because I love it so much. The Japanese believe a mended item is actually more precious than the original because it shows scars of survival. I love that. The middle of the plate holds a piece of homemade whole-wheat cranberry bread that I toasted, cut into thirds and stacked. On the right rests a Chinese teacup filled with goat’s milk yogurt, some toasted sunflower seeds, and a dollop of spiced pumpkin butter from Trader Joe’s.

The tiny fork that I used to eat the pineapple was a gift from my husband. It’s an antique cake fork he bought at Portobello Market a few years ago on a business trip to London. The small spoon–I am embarrassed to say–made its way into my purse on my first flight to Japan in 1986. It was small, rounded, and begged me to take it home. Nowadays, I know better and would politely ignore its plea.

It was a perfect little breakfast–tasty, satisfying, and poetic. Oh, and as you can see, Abner chose a banana. 

I just had the good fortune of visiting Costa Rica, an impressive little country that got rid of its army in 1948, aims to be carbon neutral by 2021, and has a 95% literacy rate. Along with extremely friendly people, the country offers jaw-dropping flora and fauna, lovely beaches, challenging outdoor activities, like jungle hikes, and surprisingly good food!

My husband and I began our trip in the mountainous region of Alajuela near La Paz Waterfall Gardens, a nature park and wildlife refuge, which we briefly visited one day because one of the resident jaguars got loose!  

At Monte Azul by the Chirripo River south of San Jose we made monoprints in the hotel’s art studio with a resident printmaker. We also hiked around the property, did yoga, and enjoyed the most scrumptious food! The owners grow their own veggies, make goat’s milk cheese, bake bread, and even craft goat’s milk soaps for all the rooms.

At a beachfront villa on the Nicoya Peninsula we did yoga, ate spiny lobster, and went to sleep and woke up to the rumble of the waves. Then, we wrapped up our visit at a hotel near Arenal Volcano,

where we soaked in the famous hot springs, hiked through the jungle to milky azure pools, and rode horses past the cloud shrouded volcano–ready to return home relaxed, rejuvenated, and centered–Costa Rican style.   

I just got back from visiting Costa Rica–more on that in another post–and went into our coat closet this morning to retrieve my winter boots because it snowed last night and I needed to shovel our walkway and front porch stairs. I pulled out my mitten box and noticed lots of dried ziti on the floor! What the heck? Then, I immediately knew: ABNER!

You know how they say, “When the cat’s away, the mice play.” Well, this seems to be the case. Somehow, and this is what I can’t figure out, Abner and his posse got into some dried ziti and had a field day in our coat closet. What’s so bizarre is the number of ziti in my husband’s winter boots! I even had a few ziti in my boots, too.

The reason I know Abner created this mess is because of the droppings in the back of the closet. What mystifies me is how or why the pasta traveled from our kitchen to our front hall closet. And why put the ziti in our boots? And where is the pasta box?

Our Abner is such a mysterious little fellow…and endlessly amusing.

Recently I have been making batches of dark chocolate roasted hazelnut spread to give as holiday gifts to friends and family. I decided to make it myself because I was disappointed with the commercial versions that are available. Nutella was the first chocolate hazelnut spread I ever tried. I enjoyed it, until I read the label and realized it contains palm oil, which is extremely high in unhealthy saturated fat. Nutella also contains artificial vanilla flavor. I prefer real ingredients.

This summer in Umbria Italy, where I was on vacation, I spotted a jar of dark chocolate hazelnut spread in the tiny town of Norcia. The contents almost looked black (compared to Nutella, which is pale brown) and I couldn’t wait to try it. This past fall I cracked open the jar one afternoon to enjoy the Italian Nutella with my tea. I spread the slick brown paste on a lightly salted cracker and–darn. The flavor of hazelnuts was weak, as was the chocolate flavor, despite the spread’s rich, chocolate color.

The good news: it’s incredibly easy to make dark chocolate roasted hazelnut spread at home. What’s more, my version is healthy. Yes, it contains fat from the nuts, but they are protein rich and contain heart healthy monounsaturated fat (the “good” fat that helps reduce the level of LDL or “bad” cholesterol). The chocolate flavor comes from unsweetened cocoa powder, which is fat-free and high in antioxidants. I added some pure hazelnut oil for smoothness, confectioner’s sugar for sweetness, and a pinch of salt to round out the flavors. That was it!

So what do you do with this spread? Well, it makes a tasty little snack smeared on a lightly salted cracker (love that sweet and salty combo). It’s also very good dolloped on banana chunks and spread on ripe pear slices or tangy apple wedges. If you’re feeling French, you can spread it on a fresh baguette. Or, simply eat it straight from the jar on a spoon. Mmmmmm.

Dark Chocolate Roasted Hazelnut Spread (Makes about 7 cups)

You can save time and energy by buying skinned hazelnuts. Simply follow the directions for roasting at the same temperature for the same amount of time.

4 cups raw hazelnuts (or raw skinned hazelnuts)

2 cups powdered sugar

1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (I like Valrhona)

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

4 tablespoons pure hazelnut oil

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Scatter an even portion of hazelnuts (or skinned nuts) on two baking sheets. Roast nuts in oven, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, about 20 minutes. Let cool.

2. If nuts have their skin on, wet a clean tea towel, ring it out, and lay on a counter. Place a few cups of nuts on one half of tea towel. Fold other half of towel over nuts and rub towel back and forth over nuts to remove skins. Place skinned nuts in a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Continue rubbing nuts under towel until most of nuts have most of skin removed. (It’s okay if a few nuts have their skin on.)

3. Grind entire portion of nuts in a food processor until mixture becomes gooey, about 5 minutes. Add powdered sugar, cocoa powder, and salt. Pulse to blend. Add hazelnut oil and process for 1 minute to create a smooth paste. Transfer mixture to clean, dry jars. Stays fresh in refrigerator for up to 3 or more weeks.

My dear friend K’s mother passed away last week. She was a very special person and much loved. I wanted to bring K’s family some food, but what to bring? This was not a time to impress. This was not the moment to use fancy ingredients, although high-quality ones were a must. I needed food that would taste deeply comforting. Food that would say, ” I love you and am so sorry for your loss.” It also had to be vegetarian.

After much pondering, I made a lentil soup with root vegetables and my husband, John, made a vegetarian lasagna. I also made some triple chocolate cookies because K’s father is especially fond of chocolate.

I didn’t follow any recipe for the soup; I simply made it the way I always do, starting with a big glug of olive oil in my soup pot and then adding chopped leek (or onion) and celery (or fennel). I shook in some dried Italian seasoning, along with dried thyme, and some pepper. I much prefer to use dried herbs in my soups because they impart a more intense flavor than fresh. The vegetables sizzled until soft and brown at which point I added some diced celery root, sliced parsnips, and carrot chunks. Next came a few cups of Puy lentils, which are the small green ones, not the common brown, followed by three boxes of Imagine vegetable broth. Imagine is my favorite brand, since it has the most intense flavor. After the soup had simmered for about half an hour, I added about 6 cloves of minced garlic. This is my trick. I add the minced garlic toward the end of my cooking to yield a sweet garlic flavor. The soup cooked for about thirty minutes more, after which I seasoned it with sea salt. Then I let it cool and refrigerated it overnight to let the flavors meld.

John and I brought our goodies to the family the day after the funeral during shiva. They seemed pleased. In fact, we joined them for dinner. I am not Jewish, but I love the idea that food can bring people together for a joyous moment during such a sad time. As a Christian, many of the memorial services I’ve attended end with a lunch or afternoon tea. But usually the atmosphere is very somber and the food mere sustenance. The lentil soup was homey and warm and made people smile. The lasagna, plump with kale, ricotta, Brussels sprouts, mushrooms, tomato sauce, and mozzarella, was earthy and soulful. The cookies? They seemed to be a hit.

J and I have thrown many dinner parties and received our fair share of compliments for elaborate restaurant-quality menus. But when K’s father saw us to the door as we were leaving and said, “You have no idea how much this meant to me,” I realized it was the best meal we’d ever made.