Victoria Abbott Riccardi

For the past two days I have been on a candy-dessert caper, scooting around Boston sampling the best sweets for a 2012 article I am writing for Boston Common magazine. This is the part of my job that turns people purple with envy and causes them to say, “God I’d love to do what you do!”

I like dessert, but it’s a treat, as are confections. So spending two consecutive days munching on cupcakes, cake pops, ice cream sundaes, crepes, bonbons, fruit tarts, filled chocolates, macaroons, truffles, shortbread, cookies, and dessert cocktails was incredibly fun, but a tad overwhelming. I suppose an avalanche of anything special can change your view of it.

I was lucky to share my sweet sojourn with a local chocolate maker, Alex Whitmore of Taza Chocolate in Somerville. He’s incredibly talented and exceedingly nice. He makes bean-to-bar stone ground chocolate in the Mexican style. Very artisanal. Very authentic. Very good.

Alex rode his bike to meet me both days. I worked out extra hard before our tastings. He and I ate lots of leafy greens for dinner in-between our sugar blitz.

Now we’re back in our separate worlds. A box of cupcakes will arrive tomorrow. Cookies and chocolates sit waiting on the counter.  But I have a story I must write. 

Yet more sweets to taste before I do.

Yet more sweets to taste before I do.

Who knew that the art of creating a fragrance resembles cooking a special dish? I learned this the other day when I got together with my sister to create my own perfume as a birthday gift, followed by an elegant lunch.

The perfumer was Neil Morris, who has been developing fragrances for over 30 years for stores like Henri Bendel in New York and individuals like me. His Boston studio contains over 700 oils derived from flowers, roots, tree moss, spices, musk, fruit, and herbs. The scents lie waiting in dark brown bottles and, frankly, contain the memories of life—the smell of favorite flowers, attics, the ocean, baking cookies, and even Christmas. After two hours of sniffing and choosing favorite aromas, Neil began to create the scent, first starting with the anchoring base notes, then the middle notes—the heart of the perfume (which for me was white flowers, like jasmine)—and finally the top notes to add sparkle. It’s a warm, floral perfume with a mysterious, elegant allure.

An hour later, Frank McClelland, chef-owner of L’Espalier was doing a similar thing, only using foods, not oils, to create his masterpieces. His “A Walk through autumn with Apple Street Farm vegetables, almond-honey vinaigrette, toasted seeds and mustard greens” was a symphony of tastes with base notes of bitter greens, pickled fennel and radish, middle notes of shaved carrot and micro-greens in the honey vinaigrette, and finally top notes of toasted pumpkin seeds and almond. A salmon entrée followed the same concept. Bitter braised endive served as the base note, succulent, oily salmon was the middle note, and a swoosh of lemon-pignoli sauce added the bright top note.

An artist, whether a writer, painter, perfumer, or musician, touches people in profound ways. To savor the work of two artists in one day? What a gift.

Do you have a favorite dish or perfume that evokes certain memories?

As I mentioned, we have a small guest in our house, Abner the mouse. He likes to eat all kinds of people food, including bananas. They appear to be a favorite fruit. Here, you can see how he’s nibbled off the end of a banana.

I know, it sounds revolting to have a mouse in your house, let alone notice its eating habits, and name it. Friends and family tell me I should set traps. The problem? I love animals and have become rather fond of our little friend. He has good taste. He’s discriminating. He likes whole-wheat pasta over white. The other day he got into my dark chocolate chips. Ah, a creature after my own heart.

So in lieu of traps, I have elected to cover, seal, wrap, and box anything Abner could nibble through. Each night I usually cover our fruit bowl with a huge wooden salad bowl. To Abner’s surprise and delight, the other night I forgot.

Late fall on Cape Ann offers the most glorious skies…this one appeared on Thanksgiving Day late in the afternoon. Shortly after our meal, I headed outside for a walk and came upon this enchanting swath of butterscotch, persimmon and rose behind a silhouette of trees. Nature never ceases to awe me.

Speaking of persimmons, I currently am writing a story about this orange-red fruit for the November-December 2012 issue of Vegetarian Times. The magazine needs to photograph my recipes this year, while persimmons are in season (October through February). These ones are the sweet Fuyu persimmons, which look like tomatoes and are firm when ripe. The Japanese Hachiya persimmons are less squat and have a more pointed bottom. They also must be jelly-soft before eating or they’ll pucker your mouth. You can eat the skin on both kinds of persimmons and the fruit has a mild sweet flavor and slippery-soft texture.

I love them in salads, particularly cut into thin wedges and tossed with arugula, aged goat cheese, toasted pistachio nuts, chopped fennel, and a balsamic vinaigrette.

They’re also tasty as a salsa to enjoy with grilled pork or chicken. Simply dice one and toss it with some chopped avocado, minced fresh cilantro, fresh lime juice, hot sauce, and sea salt.

Hello friends,

This is my first post to my new blog!  Here I will share with you a sneak peek into the life of a food and travel writer–the funny, crazy, exciting, messy, and inspiring behind-the-scenes things that occur in my kitchen and elsewhere.

Joining me on occasion will be friends and family, including my husband, John. Oh, and also Abner, an adorable, walnut-colored mouse, who has decided that nothing is more tasty than the ingredients tucked away in the pantry of a food writer.

I appreciate your stopping by and look forward to getting to know you.

Fondly,

Victoria