The taxi dropped us off at a remote Tuscan bed and breakfast, weeds and wildflowers lining the driveway. As we got out of the car, we saw a tall woman in a pristine white chef’s jacket walking towards us, carrying handfuls of fresh herbs. She introduced herself as Gina and led us into an old mill which had been converted to a one room kitchen/rec room for the family that owned the bed and breakfast. Exposed stone and high ceilings greeted us. We introduced ourselves to the others: couples from Minneapolis, New York, and Austin.
We snacked on fresh lava beans and soft, fresh pecorino cheese while waiting for the class to begin.
Fava beans and pecorino
Conversation flowed easily among us. We prepared dessert first, a “sweet salami” that contained crushed crackers (like animal crackers), sweet and unsweetened cocoa, butter, sugar, sweet wine, which we mixed all together and refrigerated. When we rolled it out, it looked like salami, though certainly didn’t taste like it. Each of us volunteered for tasks as we prepared what would turn out to be an amazingly delicious, yet simple, lunch.
Everyone had jobs –
butterflying the turkey breast
chopping the fresh herbs – rosemary, parsley, basil
preparing the asparagus
sautéing the mushrooms
preparing the artichokes for stuffing
slicing artichokes for the pasta sauce
making a bread crumb mixture to stuff in the artichokes and to put in the stuffed turkey breast
making homemade pasta dough (so simple!), rolling it, and cutting it on guitar pasta cutter
Danielle making spaghetti
There were enough tasks to keep people busy, but not too much work to prevent us from chatting and enjoying wine as we cooked. A few hours later, we sat beneath a covered picnic table and enjoyed the fruits of our labor.
Stuffed turkey breast (with prosciutto and artichoke bread crumbs) and asparagus – delicious!
A former neighbor, Frederic, recommended a rooftop restaurant in Prague. I discovered, quite by accident as I was wandering one evening, the hotel where the restaurant was located was quite close to my apartment. Knowing Frederic’s exquisite taste, I decided to have my last dinner there, because I knew it would not disappoint. Except, that it was closed because of the cold weather. Sigh. The concierge recommended I try a restaurant, Terasa, in their sister hotel not too far away.
I walked through the winding streets, sure I was lost, then came upon the hotel. I took the lift to the top floor, then climbed a narrow staircase to the small restaurant. The maitre d’ greeted me.
“Do you have any availability for dinner?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, we are a small restaurant and completely booked for the evening.”
Disappointed, I sighed. “Oh. Okay. Can you recommend another restaurant?”
“Please try the rooftop restaurant at Aria, our sister hotel not too far from here.”
I started laughing. “They sent me here. They’re closed for the winter.”
He laughed too. “One moment, ma’am.” He left and came back a few moments later.
“The kitchen says if you would like to eat right now, we can serve you.”
It was only 4 pm, but I was starving. I had been sightseeing all day and had not stopped for lunch. “That would be lovely.”
He escorted me to a table for two to a window overlooking what seemed to be all the rooftops of Prague.
View from Terasa restaurant
He took my coat and pulled out the chair for me. After I sat down, he lit a candle on the table. Being the only person in the restaurant, I felt like a queen. As I perused the menu, I realized that no matter what I ordered, it would be delicious. After two plus weeks of eating heavy meat dishes, I was ecstatic to see several seafood dishes on the menu. After I ordered, he returned with an amuse-bouche of salmon terrine. I love the concept of amuse-bouche. I’ve never taken French, so I don’t know the direct translation, but in my mind it means, “A little kiss of food. Just for you.” It’s always a surprise when it arrives and I’ve never been disappointed by what the chef offers.
salmon terrine amuse-bouche
The first course was a goat cheese and sun-dried tomato mille feuille. When I saw it on the menu, I liked all the ingredients, but, have never taken French, was not sure how to pronounce it. “I’ll have the mmmmm….” I said, pointing at the menu. “Ah, the mille feuille. An excellent choice,” rolled off the waiter’s tongue.
goat cheese and sun-dried tomato mille feuille
It had a delicious pesto on the side, which complemented the richness of the goat cheese nicely. For my main course, I ordered a seafood risotto. When I ordered it, the waiter described a special of the day, which I assume was also seafood. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, even after asking him to repeat it several times. In my head I was thinking, “I don’t want to be *that* American. The one that says, “Huh?” “What?” So I smiled and said, “That sounds delicious, but I think I’ll try the seafood risotto. Thank you.”
And I wasn’t disappointed. It came, a plate of creamy seafood with a light garlic sauce surrounding it. Grilled John Dory, a huge tiger prawn, a few tender scallops, crisp snow peas, and grilled baby squash sat upon the clouds of risotto.
seafood risotto
At this point, I was watching the sun set and the lights start to flicker on in the town. I was thinking about how my vacation couldn’t have been any better. For five days, I had been surrounded by beautiful music. I had eaten delicious local cuisine. I had been surrounded by beautiful design, almost everywhere I went. I had ridden a train through Hungary, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic. I was feeling very lucky, and very grateful.
And then he offered me the dessert menu. I guess sometimes life can get better. I asked him what his favorite dessert was. He grinned, then said the creme brulee sampler. Creme brulee? My favorite dessert of all time? Four individual ramekins of deliciousness, all different flavors? Yes, please.
The creme brulee was perfect. Tiny ramekins, a couple of bites each, of deliciously flavored sweetness – lemon-thyme, pistachio, coffee bean, and saffron. Somewhat to my surprise, the saffron was my favorite. The savoriness of the saffron contrasted nicely with the sweetness of the creme.
And that was my last supper in Prague. A perfect way to end a perfect vacation.
My favorite part of Thanksgiving is making pies. For the past ten years, I’ve gone to my friend’s mom’s house for Thanksgiving, and for the past ten years, I’ve made one pecan pie and one apple cranberry pie for all to share.
There’s something immensely satisfying about baking. How you follow simple instructions, and walla! you have something insanely delicious. My favorite part of making pies is rolling the dough for the crust. It’s the transformation that amazes me. You take a cold ball of lumpy dough, and with a few strokes, it magically becomes a lovely, thin, round pie crust. I love the weight and the smoothness of a solid wooden rolling pin, sliding the silky flour over it before rolling the dough. Feeling the stretchiness of the dough, the give and take as I roll, roll, roll the pin back and forth.
I also love the slowness of it. The time that each step takes, as well as the waiting in between steps. Of making the dough, letting it chill, rolling it, preparing the filling, assembling the parts, and then the baking. The warmth and aromas that fill my small apartment as deliciousness is forming.
And it’s a treat. I don’t make pies very often, maybe once or twice a year. The process in itself has become a luxury, something I look forward to, a signal that I’ll be with loved ones soon.
LoriLoo 