NEW YORK CORNER
Adour Alain Ducasse by John
Mariani
Champagne on
the Rocks? Moët
says “Pourquoi non?”
by John Mariani
❖❖❖
THE ROAD TOMOROCCO
Part One
by John Mariani
"Essaouira, 2012" Photo by John Mariani
Whether
it’s Hemingway’s Paris, Canaletto’s Venice, or
Dickens’ London, every traveler to a new
land carries with him images and reveries from
art, literature, and film. To Morocco we bring
with us ideas from the Beaux Art genre painters,
Paul Bowles' novels, and, indelibly, the
black-and-white images of the movie “Casablanca,”
which, despite its being filmed entirely on the
Warner Bros. studio lot, gave a portrait of the
twilight zone city of Casablanca, a crucible of love
and honor, intrigue and bravery play out within the
arched walls of Rick’s Café Americaine, where
in the shadow of the Vichy government, people come
and go and disappear as the political winds blow.
Of course, there never was a Rick’s
Café (right)
in Casablanca--although there is a tourist bar there
now by that name--but Morocco itself has always been a
country tied to Arab, African, and European cultures,
lying along both the Mediterranean Sea and
Atlantic Ocean and spreading south into the mountains
and deserts as barren and beautiful as any on earth.
A visitor to Morocco invariably
flies into Casablanca, usually in early morning, when
the sun has not yet warmed the earth and the sky glows
violet and orange. As most Moroccans will tell you,
there is not really much to keep you in Casablanca for
more than a day or two, but spending a morning in a
café along the Mediterranean coast, with its
shores foaming from the assault of the sea, it's a
good way to warm up by sipping coffee and nibbling
sweet pastries. And they make a pretty good namesake
beer in Casablanca, too.
The requisite visit--and
quite an extraordinary stop it is--will be to the
gigantic new Hassan II Mosque (left), the only
one besides the Tim Mal Mosque that non-Muslims are
allowed to enter, partially set on the sea, as
it was said in the Koran that "The Throne of God was
on water."
It took six years and close to a
billion dollars to erect this monument, from 1987 to
1993, designed by French architect Michel Pinseau and built with the help of 2,500
workmen and 10,000 craftsmen, sot that it stands as
the largest mosque in Morocco, the seventh largest in
the world. For an important religious event, the
building can hold 25,000 inside and 80,000 outside.
Pity the latter who during Ramadan must stand out in
the blazing sun without taking as much as a glass of
water for most of the day.
As imposing as it is in size from
the outside, the true wonders are within, from its
glass floor and sliding roof to vast expanses of cut
and decorated marble. The prayer hall alone covers
20,000 square meters, and there are two hanging
mezzanines reserved for women. The ablution hall,
where devotees ritually wash themselves has 41
fountains, along with two huge hammam bath
areas.
From
Casablanca we headed to El Jadida for lunch at a fish
restaurant called Le Bistro, of a kind that dots the Mediterranean
coast. Our guide told us that the seaside cities are
best for seafood and that we should save our appetite
for meats until we got to Marrakech. We were
well rewarded at this charming true bistro with colors
and fabrics that might well have come from Pierre
Deux, some travel and movie posters, and a chef who
displays his fish of the morning's catch in a box at
the open kitchen, so that you make choose whatever you
wish. We wished to try the tiny shrimp called crevettes in a
hot pil pil
sauce, then a mixed grill of fish and large shrimp
drizzled with olive oil.
That evening in El Jadida, we
checked into the new Mazagan
Beach Resort (right),
set on four miles of sea sand, with a golf course and
spa that show clear evidence that this spectacular,
very large hotel intends to attract an international
crowd. English is spoken by most everyone on the
staff. Many of the rooms have an ocean view, and the
hotel wraps around and up and down four floors with
semi-circular hallways that take time to navigate to
the central part of the hotel, all in flickering
light. It's one of
the best hotels in Morocco by far and as modern as
anything in the Mediterranean right now. There
are several dining options here, including Morjana,
where they serve traditional Moroccan fare, and Sel de
Mer, whose name tells you that seafood is the
specialty in this gorgeously lighted, long dining room
with a horseshoe bar glowing with translucent blue
light and hanging cocoons. It draws a well-dressed
crowd--the women tend to dress up for the
evening--and there are roomy banquettes and
thick-pillowed tables for four and six
throughout. Since the dining room was packed the
night I dined there alone, I happily sat at the bar,
sipped a cocktail, ordered a white Moroccan wine
called President, and enjoyed a bowl of linguine with
saucecrustaces, a
juicy bar fish with crispy skin, and raspberry nougat
for dessert.
The next day we departed for the
city of Safi, which has a sizable population and a
thriving fishing industry, as well as a high
reputation for fine ceramics and pottery within the
walls of the medina. Here we ate at a restaurant built
on several levels, Au Riyad du Pecheur, just a half
mile from the ocean. Its walls are rife with
ceramics of fish and fishing (below), its roof is a violet blue,
and there are a nine rooms to lease for the night,
too. We began with a chickpea soup, harira, served
with sweet dates and honeyed pastry, then a mix of
fried fish--sardines (for which Safi is famous),
prawns, sole, and shrimp, then our first tagine--the
beloved stew-like dishes cooked in a ceramic casserole
with a tent-like pointed top that captures
the flavorful steam within. Ours was made from
chicken with olives, a bit stringy but tasty. Sadly in
Safi that week, no alcohol was being served under some
blue law edict, and Coca-Cola does not do much for
this kind of food.
Onward down the coast we drove, to
Essaouira. Once known by the Portuguese name
Mogador, Essaouira lies along the Atlantic coast and
takes its Arab name from "the small fortress," which
still encloses the city. An ancient harbor, the
city has traded with every nation in the Mediterranean
since the Roman era, and the fortress here has been
razed and re-built time and again as a bulwark against
invaders who always seem eventually to breach its
walls. By 1631 the French had gained preferential
treatment from Abd el-Malek II, and it was in the 19th
century the city began to take its present form under
French engineers at the directives of Mohammed III,
with other foreign architects adding to the harbor and
fortifications, making it Morocco's principal port for
two centuries.
A Franco-Moroccan war broke out in
1844, and Essaouira became a French protectorate from
1912-1956, so still today many of the residents speak
French as well as they do Arabic. In the early 1950s
the city had one of its most famous visitors, Orson
Welles, who filmed much of his movie of
Shakespeare's "Othello" (left) within the fortress walls from which you can see the ocean rage and streets of Essaouira,
earning the director a bust, now much degraded,
just outside the medina wall. Inside those walls
are crafts stores of great variety, including wood
working and furniture at very good prices, assuming
you are willing to bargain. This being
Morocco, it is critical to do so, an endeavor I
am miserable at, always thinking the first response to
my awkward haggling is as far as the merchant will
go. In fact, I learned that anything but a
staunch refusal will result in a price well above what
you might otherwise pay.
I did buy some
beautiful jewelry and long scarves for my wife at what
I figured was a good price, but then, nudged upstairs
to see the "real" antiques and the woven rugs, my
friend and I were put in the hands of a master haggler
at work. After we told him we didn't have any interest in
buying a rug, he went into his routine, saying he is
making no
money on anything anymore. He then unrolled one of the
most beautiful carpets I've ever seen, priced at a
thousand US dollars. My friend suddenly announced that
his dog had eaten its way through his living room
carpet, and maybe,
if he called his wife, she might want him to buy it--at a
reduced price, of course. (He lives in Tucson,
so his wife wouldn't even be awake for several hours.)
The rug seller immediately unrolled
a dreadful imitation of the thousand-dollar rug, and,
having voiced our opinion of the two, he sallied forth
with compliments: "Ah, you are obviously men of taste
and can see the difference!" He then dropped the price
to $800. But my friend decided he really didn't want
the rug. "How much would
you pay?" My friend said he had no interest.
The dealer asked me how much I would pay. I shrugged and said
$500--"If I
were interested, but I'm not." The dealer let his
shoulders collapse and sighed, "Sir. . . sir, I
give you the rug for $400. I make no money at all."
The end of the story, which went on for 15 more
minutes, is that we managed a slow escape, having
learned than the first price in such dealings is
always exorbitant, and there never really is a set
price.
That evening, after a long day, we
checked into a particularly romantic 33-room boutique
hotel, Heure
Bleue Palais, like all buildings in Essaouira,
only four stories high. Formerly a rich man's home,
then a 19th century orphanage, its courtyard (left) is now set
with lighted plants, mahogany, and singing
birds. After a refreshing tea and cookies, we
retired into a bedroom set lavishly with antiques, throw blankets, slatted windows,
fireplace, rattan chairs, and every modern
amenity. We dined that night at the hotel's
restaurant, named Bleu d'Orange (below), guided by
the suave, French-born general manager,
François Laustriat to Chef Ahmed Handour's
finest dishes, which share French, Italian and North
African flavors. The room, evocative of the 19th
century, with candlelight and fireplace, had tables
covered that night with gold cloths and brass show
plates. It was St. Valentine's Day. We toasted
our wives.
As much as possible, ingredients
here are as local as may be found, even the fine
goat's cheese. We began with a salad of calamari
with a bread-and-tomato condiment called pappa al pomodoro,
then rich foie gras of duck with Moroccan spices and
chutney; there was veal sliced cold with a
creamy tuna mayonnaise; ravioli came stuffed with
ricotta in a sauce of butter and sage, and our fish
dish was a fillet of branzino with a cream of peas
scented with ginger.
Osso buco milanese was delicious, served as
by tradition with saffron risotto. The classic pastilla of
Morocco was here crispy folds of pastry around chicken
with almonds, perfumed with cinnamon. Our desserts
were a nougat ice cream with cherry confit, and a warm
chocolate torta
with pistachio ice cream.
The next
day, after a fine breakfast at the hotel, we visited
Marjana (below),
a co-op of women who produce argan oil products for
everything from cooking oil to facial creams. In one
room the women sit on the floor, cracking the
nuts, crushing them to extract a tiny bit of
oil. Some are pureed and enriched, others left
in their purest state, said
to do everything from curing
ailments to making one's skin beautiful, soft and
blemish free. We bought some as late
Valentine's presents.
Of Agadir, there is nothing to say
except that it is a brand new, white city built on the
total ruins of an ancient one destroyed on February
29, 1960. Lasting just fifteen seconds, the
quake toppled everything in Agadir; a year later
reconstruction began, and today it is a completely
modern city with nothing of historic interest
left. Still, its population has grown to 200,000
people, and it's become an important commercial port,
within sight of the beautiful Atlas Mountains to the
north of the Souss River. Down in the Souss Valley
lies Taroudant, sometimes called the "Grandmother of
Marrakech" because of its resemblance to the much
larger capital city. It was once an important stop
along the caravan route, and its bazaar teems with
vitality, both inside and out, with souks at each of
its main squares, one Berber, where one finds the best
spices and household goods, one Arab, which
specializes more in handicrafts, rugs, and jewelry.
We headed up into the Atlas
mountains that night where we found one of the most
remarkable inns in Morocco. Of that evening and of the
wonderful food served there, I shall have more to say
about next week in Part Two of this report.
FOR YOUR INFO
By the way, I must recommend our guide, a young man
named Younes Darif, as knowledgeable, personable and
well spoken as any I've depended on anywhere in the
world, accompanying us for a week with information on
every aspect of Moroccan history, religion, culture,
cuisine--not to mention bartering--we could ask
for. If you go, I think you should try to hire
him and hope he's not busy:Younes
Darif, Hay el Farah2 BD Ibn el Athir N 26 Res Salim
Appt N 14, Fes, Fes Agdal Maroc, Morocco; younesdarif@hotmail.fr
❖❖❖
NEW
YORK CORNER
ADOUR Alain
Ducasse St. Régis Hotel
2 East 55th Street (near
Fifth Avenue)
212-710-2277 www.adour-stregis.com
Adour Alain Ducasse NY is now almost
five years old and has settled,
after a few changes in chefs de cuisine, into one of
New York's finest French restaurants, with all that
implies in elegance, grand luxury, genteel
service, and, of course, haute cuisine. Ducasse himself (below), now a global
entrepreneur, seems to change chefs at Adour more as a
refreshment than a departure. New to the kitchen is
Julien Jouhannaud (below,
left), 33, who had been exec chef at the DC
branch of Adour for three years. Born in France,
Jouhannaud went through the usual trajectory for young
cooks, working at Michelin-starred restaurants
like La Balette in Collioure, Jacques Maximin in
Vence, and Le Buerehiesel in Strasbourg, joining
the Groupe Alain Ducasse in 2001 at Le Louis XV in
Monaco, then heading for miX in Las Vegas. He
returned to Europe to serve as sous chef at The
Roussillon in London, before joining Ducasse’s Bar
& Bœuf restaurant in Monaco, then became chef de
cuisine at The Harbour Grill at the Hilton Hotel in
Singapore. That's quite a résumé,
one filled with global influences of a kind Ducasse
has always been open to.
Yet the power and precision of
French training is in every dish: My wife and I put
ourselves in his hands to cook two different tasting
menus, which began with an amuse of egg en cocotte in a
deliriously rich sauce périgueux. We could have
stopped right there and felt blissful. But still
to come was a dish of thinly sliced daurade and
dollop of caviar from Siberia (who knew?) with a
confit of lemon (below,
right), and a deceptively simple Alaskan King
crab cocktail with which lush avocado, tangy-sweet
grapefruit and a dash of coriander went splendidly.
Turbot with wild mushrooms and the crunch of almonds
followed, along with a glorious take on old-fashioned
lobster Newberg--a dish that originated in NYC more
than a century ago--with new potatoes. This once
ubiquitous dish, made in the past by rote, shone
bright and new in Jouhannaud's rendering, all based on the idea
that, indeed, the perfect ingredients can be
transformative.
The
meat courses were down-the-line classics revived:
squab "en crapaudine"
(a ill-sounding name for a dish, usually made with
chicken, in which the bird is flattened, marinated,
then cooked crisp), with peas, artichokes and a salmis sauce of
the bird's juices, wine and demi-glace. Then came that
old canard (pardon the pun), duck à l'orange (below, left), an
impeccably cooked breast--not sliced and bloody as
became the fashion under la nouvelle cuisine--with its skin
intact in an orange sauce only
faintly sweet, its caramelization adding a slightly
bitter edge, served with glazed turnips.
For dessert, in addition to an
array of bon bons and candies, we enjoyedpoached
rhubarb in a light yogurt cream with an intense
strawberry granité; a hazelnut
soufflé with grapefruit sorbet; and a
dark chocolate tart with superb vanilla ice
cream.
The wine list at Adour is one
of the best selected in the U.S., and while so
many of the wines are so expensive, ask the
sommelier for a comfortable price range and you
will be very happy with the choice. Indeed,
while the price of a meal here is not cheap
neither is it exorbitant compared with those
new, slovenly,
inhospitable places around NYC where you can
spend just as much for far less. Indeed, a
three-course à la carte meal at Adour can
run under $100, and the five-course tasting menu
is only $115. As they say in Hollywood of
certain movies, every penny is up there on the
screen, and every penny you spend at Adour is
worth it for an evening of such civilized
beauty.
On the night we dined
at Adour, the restaurant seemed packed with
Asian expense accounts, but for me, a restaurant
like Adour, as romantic as any in NYC, is a
place I was thrilled to be alone with my wife
for a delayed anniversary dinner, just the two
of us relaying back and forth how food of this
caliber and technical brilliance is not only the
legacy of French cuisine but the beacon by which
fine dining must still be measured.
I cannot imagine any chef in Europe or America
not learning something from Jouhannaud's cooking
and acknowledging the debt they all have to the
discipline that lies beneath the creativity.
Ducasse has his fingers in many pots around the
world, but he is unstinting in his dedication to
excellence.
While
others simply slap their name on far-flung
steakhouses or replicate the same menus in
branch after branch, Ducasse is still someone
whose commitment to individuality is palpable in
every one of his restaurants.
Adour is open for dinner Tues.-Sat.
Dinner, à la carte, runs $18-$31 for appetizers,
and $36-$56 for main courses; Tasting menu $115;
vegetarian tasting menu $85.
❖❖❖
NOTES
FROM THE WINE CELLAR
Champagne on
the Rocks? Moët
says “Pourquoi Pas?”
by John Mariani
When
Benoit Gouez, Chef de Cave of Moët & Chandon
since 2005, told me he was making a Champagne intended
to be drunk over ice, all I could do was to picture a
mustachioed, veteran cellar master at Moët
looking like the late French actor Philippe Noiret and
screaming, “Mon
Dieu! Mais non! Jamais! Jamais!” Over an all-Champagne lunch at The No Mad
restaurant in New York, Gouez laughed and explained
what sounds like a wholly unorthodox way to drink a
wine so traditionally associated with celebrations,
tuxedos, and fluted glassware:“Champagne,
like everything else, must evolve. In St.
Tropéz the summer people drink Champagne `a piscine,’
around the swimming pool, with ice. So we’ve made a
Champagne called Ice Imperial with more body and a
little sweeter, so it won’t be so easily diluted by
ice.” As chief winemaker, Gouez (right), who at
just 42, has the vitality and relative freedom to
re-direct a treasured and storied Champagne house, now
part of Moët-Hennessey-Louis Vuitton, that dates
back to 1743, whose holdings spread out over more than
1,000 hectares (2,500 acres), producing 26 million
bottles annually. If
Moët
has any problem it has been one of prestige, by
comparison with other marques, including those it
owns--Ruinart Père et Fils, Mercier and Dom
Pérignon. “For a century now Moët’s White
Star label has been our flagship label in the U.S.,”
he said, “and it used to be much sweeter.Today we
are discontinuing White Star, replaced by our
well-established Imperial label (dating to 1869),
which is lighter and has more finesse. We have reduced
the dosage
[a sugar syrup added to Champagne to induce a second
fermentation] to 9 grams per liter to make it drier,
but we’re not making it `pas dosage’ [no dosage] just to be
trendy.” In that, Gouez was acknowledging that many of
the Champagne houses have been making drier and drier
styles at higher and higher prices, calling them “prestige cuvées.”
In one sense, this marketing concept goes against the
long-cherished idea that a individual house forges a
consistent style and flavor year after year that its
consumers come to expect.
Moët (below), for instance, is always a
blend of pinot noir, chardonnay, and pinot
meunière, while other houses may use only
chardonnay. “My vision,” said Gouez, “is that if
you’re looking for that consistency of flavor, drink
the non-vintage; if you are excited by distinctions
made possible by the quality of a single year, then
drink a vintage Champagne.” His point was well taken over lunch at The
NoMad. By presenting an array of Moët
Champagnes with different dishes, Gouez showed how
different styles offer different tastes, some richer,
some older, some fruitier. We began with an icy
platter of seafood—diced hamachi, sea urchins, and
scallops—with a bracing appetite starter, Moet’s Brut
Imperial, which is spring-like in its balance of
fruitiness and green flavors.
A chiffonade
salad
of snow peas with pancetta, pecorino and mint was
paired with a deeply-colored Brut Rosé made
with up to 50 percent pinot noir, whose lush body and
pleasing acid married well to the salty edge of the
ham and sharpness of the cheese. Next came a Grand Vintage 2002—Moët’s
current vintage release—which has a low dosage of 5 grams
and a fine, strong bouquet and fullness on the palate
that went splendidly with fresh tagliatelle pasta
with mild King crab, tangy Meyer lemon, and a crunch
of black pepper. The main course was roasted lobster with thin, hot potato chips,
spring vegetables, and a classic sprinkling of
tarragon. For this Gouez popped the cork on a Grand
Vintage 1992, which, with 51 percent chardonnay, 26 of
pinot noir, 23 of pinot meuniére, and 5.5
percent dosage,
was absolutely superb and as fresh as any of the
bottles I sampled that afternoon. It was creamy and
while it had what connoisseurs like to call the
“patina of age,” it showed none of the oxidation that
so many British connoisseurs favor. “We do everything
possible to reduce oxidation in our wines,” said
Gouez, which is why this 20-year-old bubbly had such
remarkable vibrancy, a perfect foil for the richness
of the lobster. While we’re on the subject of bubbly, I noted
that the examples tasted had very tiny bubbles and
slight effervescence.Sometimes a Champagne served too warm can cause
tame bubbles, but these were impeccably chilled. “We
do everything possible to reduce oxidation,” said
Gouez. He also noted that climate change since 1988
has increased the sugars in the grapes. “In the
Champagne region this is a boon because we’ve always
had an issue as to when to harvest grapes that are
mature enough.” By the same token, too much sugar can change
the profile and taste of Champagne, whose traditions
are among the strongest and most enduring in France.
Then again, if things get too warm out their by the
pool, you can now pour your Moét on the rocks
and by tres chic.
John Mariani's wine column
appears in Bloomberg
Muse News, from which this story was adapted.
Bloomberg News covers Culture from art, books, and
theater to wine, travel, and food on a daily basis.
❖❖❖
MAKE
THAT NEON BLUE TUNA
Reports say that
bluefin tuna from Japanese waters has been
contaminated from the nuclear plant crippled by the
tsunami. The levels of radioactive cesium were 10
times higher than the amount measured in tuna off the
California coast in previous years.
MORONIC IDEA NO. 23,918
"I moved to Los Angeles two years ago
and learned right away that I was unprepared for West
Coast life. Before even buying my plane ticket I
should have listened to the old Beach Boys song and
cultivated a bushy, bushy
blonde hairdo. I thought it was just a
surfer thing, but everyone here has one: the mayor,
the specialist who came to install the `edible wall
garden' on my composting shed, the police officer who
ticketed me for my backyard pizza oven (I burn lawn
clippings in there), everyone! The other biggie: My
diet of grains, meats, vegetables, and homemade fruit
leather was far too varied. Apparently all I ever need
to eat for the rest of my life is kale. And I
swear to you on the tub of Sun-In hair lightener into
which I dunk my increasingly bushy head each morning:
I will achieve a kale-only
diet.-- Scott
Jacobson, "Kale of Duty: Why I choose to eat nothing
but kale, ever, for the rest of my life,"
SLATE.com
❖❖❖
Any of John Mariani's
books below may be ordered from amazon.com.
My
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Marx, The Village Voice.
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this chronicle of a culinary diaspora is as
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stomachs. It's a story of pleasure over
pomp and taste over technique."--Danny Meyer,
owner of NYC restaurants Union Square Cafe,
Gotham Bar & Grill, The Modern, and
Maialino.
❖❖❖
FEATURED
LINKS: I am happy to report
that the Virtual
Gourmet is linked to four excellent
travel sites:
I consider this the best and
savviest blog of its kind on the web. Potter is a
columnist for USA
Weekend, Diversion, Laptop and Luxury Spa Finder,
a contributing editor for Ski and a frequent contributor
to National
Geographic Traveler, ForbesTraveler.com
and Elle Decor.
"I’ve designed this site is for people who take
their travel seriously," says Potter. "For
travelers who want to learn about special places
but don’t necessarily want to pay through the nose for
the privilege of staying there. Because at the end
of the day, it’s not so much about five-star
places as five-star experiences." THIS WEEK:
Eating Las Vegas
is the new on-line site for Virtual Gourmet
contributor John A. Curtas., who since 1995
has been commenting on the Las Vegas food
scene and reviewing restaurants for Nevada
Public Radio. He is also the
restaurant critic for KLAS TV, Channel 8 in
Las Vegas, and his past reviews can be
accessed at KNPR.org.
Click on the logo below to go directly to
his site.
Tennis Resorts Online:
A Critical Guide to the
World's Best Tennis Resorts and Tennis Camps, published
by ROGER COX, who has spent more than two decades
writing about tennis travel, including a 17-year stretch
for Tennis magazine.
He has also written for Arthur Frommer's Budget Travel, New York Magazine, Travel &
Leisure, Esquire, Money, USTA Magazine, Men's Journal,
and The Robb
Report. He has authored two books-The World's Best Tennis
Vacations (Stephen Greene Press/Viking
Penguin, 1990) and The
Best Places to Stay in the Rockies (Houghton Mifflin,
1992 & 1994), and the Melbourne (Australia) chapter
to the Wall Street
Journal Business Guide to Cities of the Pacific Rim (Fodor's
Travel Guides, 1991).
nickonwine:
An engaging, interactive
wine column by Nick Passmore, Artisanal Editor, Four
Seasons Magazine; Wine Columnist, BusinessWeek.com;
nick@nickonwine.com; www.nickonwine.com.
MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET
NEWSLETTER is published weekly. Editor/Publisher: John
Mariani.
Contributing Writers: Christopher Mariani, Robert Mariani,
John A. Curtas, Edward Brivio, Mort Hochstein,
Suzanne Wright,and Brian Freedman. Contributing
Photographers: Galina Stepanoff-Dargery,
Bobby Pirillo. Technical Advisor: Gerry McLoughlin.