MARIANI’S

Virtual Gourmet


  March 17, 2024                                                                                            NEWSLETTER

Founded in 1996 

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"The Quiet Man" (1952)

HAPPY ST PATRICK'S DAY!

        

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THIS WEEK

WHAT DINING OUT IN
PARIS REALLY COSTS

By John Mariani

NEW YORK CORNER
CAFÉ BOULUD

By John Mariani

THE MAGDALENE LAUNDRIES
CHAPTER ELEVEN

By John Mariani

NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR
AN AMERICAN IN TUSCANY

By John Mariani



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WHAT DINING OUT IN
PARIS REALLY COSTS



By John Mariani




Le Chardenoux


 

         Mon Dieu! How much does it cost to eat in Paris these days? If you’re planning to dine at the Michelin three-star L’Arpège, appetizers will run you between €80 and €120. At Pierre Gagnaire lunch is price fixed at €180. At Le Cinq (left), Black Angus beef with mozzarella and mushrooms alone sets you back €180. (As of this writing the euro is pegged at about $1.08). Such prices are about as high as you will find anywhere in the world, even if Forbes ranks Paris as only the seventh most expensive city to live in (after Singapore, Zurich, New York, Geneva, Hong Kong and Los Angeles).
         One might therefore assume that the restaurants in Paris below those ultra-deluxe dining salons would be only slightly less expensive by comparison. The Michelin Guide is no real guarantee of anything in this regard, when three stars means “worth a journey,” two “worth a detour” and one “very good in its class.” Fortunately, Michelin also lists what they called Bib Gourmand restaurants that give “best value for money.”
         But the fact is, if you eat out like the typical Parisian, who on average makes only about €54,100 ($58,000), you can dine exceedingly well at very reasonable prices. At a historic Montparnasse brasserie like La Rotonde (right), founded 100 years ago and host to F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jean Cocteau, and you can enjoy 15 kinds of shellfish for €38 and a ribeye with Dauphinoise potatoes for €35. At Au Pied de Cochon, "pig's foot" (below), in Les Halles since 1947, their classic onion soup is only €10.50 and scallops in Champagne sauce with creamy risotto just €35.50.
         Those two, and many others, are no strangers to a huge tourist clientele as well as locals, but the locals all have their own neighborhood—Paris has 20 arrondissements—places to eat that will be cheaper, the kinds of spots where they have a pleasant lunch or à la carte dinner at one-tenth (often with wine included) what it would cost at a three-star restaurant. Also, in France tax and service are included in the price of the dishes, so there is no need to tip the staff—something unwitting, or perhaps insecure, American tourists do anyway. If you wish to leave a few euros at a bistro, fine, but no Frenchman would leave a 20% tip on a bill where the service is  already compris (included).
         One caveat: Hotel concierges are excellent for general information about Paris, but never ask their recommendation for a restaurant, because either they will suggest their brother’s bistro, a place they’ve been paid to recommend or, more likely, a place that foreigners have heard about and is tourist-driven, like the overrated, very expensive L’Ami Louis (right), where you’d be hard put to find a Parisian. If you do ask a concierge, ask where he or she goes regularly.
        
There is something of a blur between bistros and brasseries these days, but they are where you will fine modestly priced meals, often at a prix fixe. A bistro used to indicate a small, family-owned restaurant serving regional cooking, while a brasserie was originally an Alsatian beer hall with specialties like choucroute and poulet au Riesling. There is now a lot of crossover between the two.
         In any case, at an old-fashioned brasserie like Bofinger (left),opened in 1864 and richly appointed with art nouveau decor, lunch is priced for two courses at €19.90, three courses at €35. At both lunch and dinner its highly regarded flammekueche (a bacon and onion flat bread) is only  €9.50, and Strasbourg sauerkraut with sausages, smoked pork belly, pork loin and potatoes is just €24.50, while mussels in Riesling is €19.50. Rum baba for dessert is €11.50.
      One of my favorite old-line bistros is Chez Georges (right) on the Rue du Mail (there’s another bistro by that name, though unrelated), there since 1927, where you will sit down with a very Parisian crowd and choose among dishes like parslied ham (€10), sweetbreads with morels (€43) and tarte Tatin with double cream (€12).
         Some of Paris’s most noted chefs, including Pierre Gagnaire, also run very moderately priced restaurants, and, curiously enough, they often make more money than their three-star establishments. His romantic one-star Gaya (left), on the Left Bank, serves “seaside cuisine,” where a prix fixe lunch of two courses is €55 and three €65.
         Cyril Lignac (right) runs several restaurants, from fine dining to one called Dragon with Asian accents offering beef gyozas (€24); crab spring roll (€22); Thai perfumed rice (€10) and coconut tapioca with black sesame (€12). My favorite of his restaurants is the very beautiful Le Chardenoux, where nothing on the menu tops €45. You might begin with a crunchy crab galette for €25, or langoustine ravioli in a bisque (€32), or a very good cheeseburger for €28, and finish with a €12 dessert like Chantilly crisp waffle and chocolate. 
        
These are but a few of the inexpensive options in every arrondissement of Paris. Follow your nose, if you like, or consult the menu in the window. You will be pleasantly surprise how easy it is to eat very well at a modest price.




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NEW YORK CORNER

CAFÉ BOULUD
100 East 63rd Street
212-772-2600

By John Mariani
Photos  by Bil Milne



Romain Paumier, Daniel Boulud and

Katalina Diaz

         Daniel Boulud is rightfully proud of many accomplishments in his career, but it was his being raised on a farm with a namesake café  in Lyon that he cherishes as the root of his passion for food and cooking, which, as of the age of fifteen, he pursued under the tutelage of some of France’s greatest chefs, including Roger Vergé, Georges Blanc and Michel Guérard, who were then leading the revolution called la nouvelle cuisine of the 1970s.
      I first met Boulud as a bright young star in New York at the Westbury Hotel’s Polo Lounge, then at Le Régence at the Plaza Athenée, and I was very impressed. Next, at the age of thirty, he brought fresh ideas to the tradition-bound kitchen at Le Cirque for six years. Then, in 1993 he opened Restaurant Daniel as an opulent showcase (in Le Cirque’s first location, before moving to midtown) for his haute cuisine, winning accolades from every corner.
         His ambitions—and his backers—grew, opening a slew of restaurants in New York that included the more casual Café Boulud, DB Bistro Moderne in the Theater District, a Lyonnaise sausage house named DBGB Kitchen & Bar on the Bowery, and, across from Lincoln Center, Epicérie Boulud bakery, Bar Boulud charcuterie and the Mediterranean-inflected Boulud Sud, as well as a Café Boulud in Palm Beach. Last year he opened the stunning Le Pavillon next to Grand Central Terminal.
         Café Boulud opened in 1998, named after his family’s café in Lyon, and it was his most experimental dining room, where he featured four different menus—La Tradition, La Saison, Le Potage and Le Voyage. It closed during Covid, and the new Café Boulud has relocated to splendid surroundings in a two-level space on East 63rd Street (previously Park Avenue Café and Vaucluse), designed by Jeffrey Beers, who also did Porter House Grill in New York, Peter Luger in Las Vegas and Estiatorio Milos in Dubai.
        The décor is highly reminiscent of posh dining rooms in Paris, done in cool grays and cream colors, with barrel vaults, long lines of tufted teal banquettes, tile floors, modern chandeliers and a huge vase of flowers in the center. Up a couple of steps is the very beautiful, perfectly lighted bar Maison Barnes, where in the future I shall spend my cocktail hour before sitting down to dine.
        It is very much a place for grown-ups to dress up, with many men wearing jackets, and I applaud the announcement, “Business casual attire is strongly recommended. Athletic leisurewear is not permitted, and gentlemen are not permitted to wear shorts with sandals in the dining room.” The crowd, however, can be very loud, the way New Yorkers feel the need to be when expressing themselves over dinner.   
       
You can choose dishes from any of the menus (two courses $95, three $125), and up a few steps at the Maison Barnes there is an extensive list of light bites and substantial plates like gougères with Comté ($15), smoked salmon ($38), shrimp beignets ($38) and made-to-order madeleines ($15). There are about 20 wines by the glass, and sommelier Victoria Taylor has assembled a deep, broad 350-label list with many unusual bottlings and a good  number under $100.
         You will be graciously received by maître d’ Lou Perrin and managers Ohrun Kaya and Laura Farissier. The four sections of the menu, overseen by chef de cuisine Romanin Paumier (himself from Lyon and chef at the original Café Boulud),  are easy enough to understand and, thank heavens, the only supplement is for caviar. My wife and I perused the menus and tried to pick from each, starting with an amuse, then, from La Tradition, a long slab of creamy foie gras terrine   on a pain épices tartlet with the surprise of a tangy-sweet kumquat confit and parsnip.
         A remarkably sweet, fat sea scallop was seared and caramelized in clarified butter, topped with farm-raised Chinese Kaluga caviar and set on a bed of leeks and celtuce, accompanied by mini crispy pommes Anna for textural contrast. To gild this lovely lily, Paumier adds a rich  Champagne beurre blanc tinged with green chive oil. Not done yet: the final dish gets a sprinkling of ice plant buds and alyssum flowers. If this isn’t the epitome of modern French cuisine, I can’t imagine any other dish being so.
        
So, too, was an impeccable lobster salad à l’aïoli, though it was much more than a simple salad. The meaty, sweet lobster meat was seasoned with lemon and fleur de sel, lightly poached then paired with barigoule-style artichokes braised in white wine and olive oil, baby Dutch potatoes and a saffron aïoli blend, all topped with mâche salad and finished with a crispy potato tuile.
         I shall never forget my first meal in Paris—I was nineteen—when I arrived at the Gare du Nord very hungry and dined alone at the station’s bistro on a classic dish of blanquette de veau, served from a steaming white casserole, rich with crème fraîche, sweet white onions and the most tender veal I’d ever tasted. So, I carry that memory fondly, and when I saw blanquette de veau vert (left) on Café Boulud’s La Saison menu, I had to order it. It came not as I remembered it, but as a tender veal stew with plenty of herbs and mounted with root vegetables and sided with wild rice, rather prettier than I recall.
         My wife ordered from Le Voyage a duo of pork “Chang Mai,” in the style of northern Thailand, though not as peppery as it would be there. It was a beautiful round of rosy pork tenderloin,the belly fat nicely seared till crisp, sauced with a red curry jus and accompanied by kale and sweet potato.
         Pastry chef
Katalina Diaz has long experience with Boulud, and her desserts reflect the same marriage of tradition and modernity, as shown in her molten moelleux au chocolat with salted caramel and mint-lemongrass ice cream;  Mont Blanc of Swiss meringue with chestnut ice cream, ginger sorbet and vermicelli; gingerbread biscuit with  cranberry mousse, pomegranate jam and spiced ice cream; and from Thailand, nam kang sai (shaved ice), a dessert of combava (kaffir lime) infused pineapple, Thai basil granité, red bean jellies and condensed milk foam.
         Boulud has had four decades to establish himself as one of America’s most influential French chefs, most certainly within the ranks of Eric Ripert and Jean-Georges Vongerichten, and while all he does still hearkens back to a blessed childhood in Lyon, he has stayed in the forefront of the evolution of French cuisine, and whether it’s at the haute level of his Restaurant Daniel, the bistro fare at Bar Boulud or the internationalism of Café Boulud, he seems as rooted and he is restless, never set on his laurels, ever ready for new ideas and, perhaps most important, engaged and energized by the fine young talents he has nurtured and given his benediction.

 

Open for dinner Mon.-Sat,; for brunch Sat.& Sun.

 

 




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THE MAGDALENE LAUNDRIES
By  John Mariani





CHAPTER ELEVEN




 

 

        In checking up on Sipe, Katie found he had been born in 1932 in Robbinsdale, Minnesota, to a family of ten children. Upon joining the priesthood in 1959, he added the name “Aquinas” to his, out of reverence for the Church’s greatest dogmatist, Thomas Aquinas.
         It was during his first posting, as a high school counselor in Cold Spring, Minnesota, that Sipe began hearing the confessions of priests involved with other priests, other adults and even minors, and he learned that his predecessor had himself abused young girls, but that no action had been taken against him.
         In 1967 Sipe became director of family services at the Seton Psychiatric Institute in Baltimore, where bishops often sent “problem priests” to be treated.  Upon learning how deep and widespread sexual abuse was among the clergy, including many who had themselves been abused, Sipe was disgusted to find nothing was ever done about the problem. Unable to bear the hypocrisy and the cover-ups, he fell into a deep depression and asked permission to leave the priesthood in 1970. Soon after, he married Marianne Benkert, a former nun. They had a son, Walter.
     

"Laocoon"

   For the next 25 years Sipe and Marianne researched the crimes of the clergy, as much to expose them as to try to understand the psychoses that drove these men and women to such nefarious activity.  No one paid much attention to their work.
         If Sipe agreed to meet with her, Katie knew from experience that her editor was not going to foot the bill to fly to La Jolla unless she had a real focus for her story.  She felt that focus might be provided after speaking with Sipe, who she hoped would have the raw data she needed to flash in front of Alan Dobell’s ever-skeptical eyes. 
    First thing, then, was to get Sipe's permission to interview him. She dialed his phone number and got the usual “I’ll call you back as soon as I can” response. Only ten minutes passed before her phone rang.
         “This is Richard Sipe. Is this Katie Cavuto, the reporter?”
         “Yes, sir, it is. Thanks for calling back.”
         With no emotion in his voice Sipe said, “Let me get this straight: You want to fly all the way out here to La Jolla to interview me for a story you’re doing on sexual molestation by Catholic priests and nuns?”
        
“Well, to be honest, I don’t actually have a story assignment,” said Katie, “but I’m intent on doing one if I can find a focus that will shed light on a wider aspect of the subject.”
         “Excuse me for saying so—may I call you Katie?—but that’s ass backwards for a journalist.  I’m surprised you don’t know that.” 
        
Katie took a deep breath, knowing Sipe was right and fearful he’d think she was some wet-behind-the-ears reporter just looking for dirt for a tabloid like the National Enquirer. She found herself apologizing, saying, “I’m sorry, you’re right in one respect. I am kind of floundering around, but I can assure you that I’ve done a lot of very serous work on a variety of subjects.”
         “Like what?”
         Suddenly her award-winning stories on Al Capone’s gold, a Vermeer painting and trying to find Harry Lime’s real-life inspiration didn’t seem remotely to have the weight of a story about child molestation.
         “How about if I overnight some of my articles to you, then you can see what kind of work I do for McClure’s?”
         “You write for McClure’s? That’s a serious magazine. I once sent an article to them a few years back. Never got a response.”
         Katie didn’t bother to defend the magazine’s unresponsiveness, knowing it got at least fifty unsolicited stories each week. She just said, “I’ll send you the magazines, then you tell me if you want to speak further, how’s that?”
         Sipe said all right without any degree of cordiality and gave her his address in La Jolla. “I’ll call you after I read them.” And that was the end of the call.
         Katie sat back and whistled, knowing this was not going to be easy, sensing Sipe had been burned by the press more than a few times in the past five years since his second book came out. It then occurred to her that telling Sipe that David, an ex-NYPD cop, would be on the story with her might give her request more ballast.  She checked her watch and saw she could make the FedEx pick-up at her office by 4:30.  She retrieved tear sheets of her best stories, typed out a quick note mentioning David’s participation, and got it all into an envelope in time for the pick-up.
         Katie spent the next day at the library, reading through Sipe’s books, astonished, and brought to tears by what was in them. Rather than any descriptions of sexual molestations, it was the betrayal of trust that made her weep.  
        
“The Catholic Church is writhing, like Lacoön,” wrote Sipe, “in the grip of a crisis of epic proportions. The form and the substance of the struggle are sexual. A majority of people neither believe nor practice the official church teachings about sex; many priests and bishops do not believe what they teach, and others reject the celibate practice that is so intimately entwined with their claim to power and cultural identity.”
         The more Katie read, the more she found that Sipe believed the vow of celibacy was the principal cause of sexual deviance among priests. Sipe vehemently sought a dialog on why the Church had refused to “develop an adequate theology of sexuality” and still demanded total chastity for everyone entering the clergy, without recognition of genetic and psychosexual variations among human beings.
         Katie read on, about the role of power that priests and nuns possessed and how it could be wielded deviantly; how the Church’s attitude towards women was limited to two categories—idealization and denigration—and how many priests actually feared woman. Sipe detailed how many priests come to rationalize their homosexuality and masturbation as “necessary and inconsequential,” rather than “a threat to their vocations as priests.”
         This argument led Sipe to detail what he called “The Network” of clergy “who are bound together by their mutual knowledge of sexual activity either with others—both male and female—or with each other,” citing one bishop notorious for inviting young priests on a “recreation retreat” where there would be one less bed than the number of priests invited, so that “one priest was selected to share the room of the bishop’s.”
         By the end of the book Sipe made it clear that his sympathies lay with those clergy who suffer and are tortured by what they see as “sins of impurity,” and that those who confess their sins, however deviant, may be sent to Church-run psychiatric centers to be counseled and reformed, set back on the pure path of celibacy.
         Katie closed the books and leaned back, realizing that the article she might write was not going to be an expansion on Sipe’s work or an attempt to evaluate the role of celibacy in the late 20th century. Her focus had to be on the crime, what had not yet been exposed about it and how it continued, despite the damning revelations of researchers like Sipe. Flying to La Jolla, she believed, would help give her that focus and keep her from turning her story into a social study. Simply as a practical matter, Katie knew she’d never get approval from Alan Dobell for a story that had its roots in Christian history dating back more than a thousand years.

 






©
John Mariani, 2018


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NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR


AN AMERICAN IN TUSCANY

By John Mariani


 

         For an American  woman who has never studied enology, Jem Macy has been ruffling the feathers of tradition-bound Tuscan winemakers. Beginning only in 2000, she and then-husband founded a nine-hectare boutique winery while working as a portfolio manager for a US importer.
    Brought up in Groton, Massachusetts, she founded her first business at age 11, a summer camp for local pre-schoolers. After earning an MBA in 2000, she lived in Germany for five years, then moved to Siena. Nine years later she opened her own winery, Fanciulle, with her sister and has been anything but restrained by Tuscan tradition or government bureaucracy in going her own way.
     
Since 2015, she has written a popular blog, The Truth About Tuscany, which both lovingly and wittily depicts life in the wine province. She is also quite fond of dispelling some myths about a region that gave rise to the wholly unofficial designation “Super Tuscans.” I interviewed Macy  in New York about her work and her personal mission for change.


Although a few other Americans (including Banfi) have become vintners in Italy and Tuscany, yours is an unusual story. Was the reason for buying a vineyard a sound business idea or romantic one?

My first estate was Castello Poggiarello—where I planted vineyards, built a cellar and made wines for ten years. Then, I ran a large estate called Mansalto on behalf of foreign investors, leaving that role to found Fanciulle Vini. Initially, I wanted to create a négoce, such as are common in Burgundy, buying high quality, organic grapes from different vineyards around Tuscany and making wines from them. But most estates are not willing to sell their best grapes, so I invested in buying vineyards so that I could conduct the kind of viticulture I believe is necessary for the quality of grapes I want. My business model is sound—we are on track to break even this year (our fifth—so pretty good for a wine business) but it’s also very romantic to me. I love wine and I love almost every aspect of the business, from working in the vineyards, to working in the cellar, to marketing the wines.

You own many acres, but also buy grapes from growers. What do you look for in the grapes you use?

The kind of terrain they were grown on (limestone, sandstone, clay, etc.). The elevation is important, too, as is the age of the vines. Tuscans have a penchant for ripping out vineyards when they are 25 years old because yields get lower, whereas a vine starts to produce its best, most complex, balanced grapes at around 35 years of age. Less than 15% of vines in Tuscany are over 40 years old. It’s tragic! If the grape supplier allows me, I try to manage the later part of the growing season, but usually I have no say, so it’s good that, as I’ve discovered, badly managed vines (overcropped vines, or vines that have suffered during the growing season) can still produce grapes that make outstanding wines, if the terrain is good enough.

How were you received as a foreigner coming to tradition-bound Tuscany ?

I managed the Italian portfolio of a U.S. importer for almost a decade. Wine estates tend to listen to their biggest clients, so I mostly got them to collaborate with what we wanted done in the cellar, but I have no doubt they were skeptical. As a producer, I guess everyone thinks I’m nuts.

You were not trained in enology. Where did you acquire your expertise?

By tasting with really great tasters—thousands of wines a year, both bottled wines and wines from tank and barrel. By talking to Burgundian winemakers a lot and hanging out in their cellars when I could. And by making mistakes.

In  Burgundy their mantra is to do as little as possible to the terroir and grapes.  Does that make sense in Tuscany?

It makes sense to me to do as much as possible to keep the aromas, flavors and textures that derive from the grapes and partially from where they’re grown as pure and unfettered as possible. Often that means doing a lot in the vineyard—detailed work on each plant, careful cultivation of the soil, etc. Good viticulture can be expensive and time-consuming, too. Ideally, if you bring great grapes into the cellar, all you have to do is make sure they ferment swiftly (but not too swiftly!), age them for a while and bottle them. And in some vintages in Tuscany or elsewhere it works out like that.

What is the meaning of the name “Fanciulle”?

Fanciulla” is an old-fashioned Italian word for "girl," somewhat like the English “lass.” I always liked the term, and I live in a world of girls.  I have two daughters, my sister has two daughters, I have seven female cousins, so it was the right word.

ou are using the same Sangiovese grape that goes into Chianti, Chianti Classico, Vino Nobile, Rosso di Montalcino and Brunello (as well as the so-called Super Tuscans). Why are you not taking advantage of the Italian appellations on your label, not even the IGT?

Many reasons. First, the idea behind Fanciulle is to explore how Sangiovese wines made from grapes grown on different soil types compare. I had to eliminate, as much as possible, other variables, so I could not be constrained by those appellations' recipes or aging rules or anything like that. Second, I had a hunch that some of those rules were going to get in the way of making the kind of pure, fresh, nuanced wines I wanted to make. Third, each of those appellations includes enormous variations in the quality and type of terrain, and therefore wine quality, which I am not sure serves the customer well. Fourth, there is an almost unimaginably large amount of bureaucracy involved in owning and running a farm in Italy, and being part of an appellation would only increase that. I want to be in the vineyard and the cellar as much as possible, not at my computer.

Do you consider yourself a renegade, a revolutionary, an eccentric?

I have a precise idea of the wines I want to make, and, in the vineyard and cellar, I am doing what I believe will produce them. It’s definitely different from how other Tuscan estates work, but fortunately there’s room for all of us in the wine world.

You are also a consultant for others considering buying a winery, and you once told a prospective buyer he should not level the traditional sloping, tiered vineyards? Why?

I consult both to potential investors as well as to current winery owners. The choice of whether to smooth over some old man-made or natural terraces has a number of implications. Obviously, a continuous hillside can be farmed more efficiently. More vines can be planted and the viticulture can be mechanized. On the other hand, the top few inches of soil contain most of what’s most important for the vines. It’s possible to rake aside this topsoil, smooth the hillside and then put it back, but I tend to feel that leaving the soil layers as they have developed over the decades as intact as possible will offer the best habitat for the young vines. Also, terraces are so picturesque!


You said that you allow no machinery in your vineyards. Why?

It seems silly to me to practice organic viticulture as I do, to work incessantly at enriching the top-soils, making them as soft and airy and full of life as possible, if I am going to roll over them ten or 20 times a year with a few tons of metal spewing diesel fumes everywhere.

What about fertilizers?

Our neighbor raises cattle and is happy to share the manure.

You prefer grapes from older vines. Why?

Old vines are easier to manage. They thrive in drought or floods, are more disease-resistant, ripen their grapes more evenly. And then the grapes are more complex and nuanced, so the wines made from them are too.

How has global warming affected Tuscany’s wines?

Tuscany’s hot, dry summers have surely gotten hotter and drier, but growing seasons have always provided their share of challenges. Fortunately, both vines and humans have a great capacity to adapt.

How can you guard against excessive alcohol levels in your wines?

Old vines help keep alcohol more moderate. I tend to pick on the fresh side of ripe, which also helps. Reducing yields too much contributes to high alcohols. The growers I buy grapes from tend to err on the generous side in terms of how much fruit they leave on the vine, which suits Sangiovese well.

What’s your 5-year plan?

I’d like to be doing exactly what I’m doing now, honing my skills, deepening my understand of winemaking, marveling at the beauty and mystery of wine. So far, each vintage has presented opportunities to vinify grapes from new soil types. I hope that continues, and I wouldn’t mind finding a parcel or two more of old vines to add to my holdings.




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DON'T SAY "GAY"

The FLORIDA MAN GAMES, promoted as “the most insane athletic showdown on Earth,” poke fun at the state’s reputation for bizarre stories that involve brawling, drinking, gunfire, reptile wrangling and other antics carrying a risk of time in jail or intensive care, such as contenders wrestling sumo-style while holding pitchers of beer and a pool noodle mud duel.


















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 Any of John Mariani's books below may be ordered from amazon.com.



   The Hound in Heaven (21st Century Lion Books) is a  novella, and for anyone who loves dogs, Christmas, romance, inspiration, even the supernatural, I hope you'll find this to be a treasured  favorite. The  story concerns how, after a New England teacher, his wife and their two daughters adopt a stray puppy found in their barn in northern Maine, their lives seem full of promise. But when tragedy strikes, their wonderful dog Lazarus and the spirit of Christmas are the only things that may bring his master back from the edge of despair. 

WATCH THE VIDEO!

“What a huge surprise turn this story took! I was completely stunned! I truly enjoyed this book and its message.” – Actress Ali MacGraw

“He had me at Page One. The amount of heart, human insight, soul searching, and deft literary strength that John Mariani pours into this airtight novella is vertigo-inducing. Perhaps ‘wow’ would be the best comment.” – James Dalessandro, author of Bohemian Heart and 1906.


“John Mariani’s Hound in Heaven starts with a well-painted portrayal of an American family, along with the requisite dog. A surprise event flips the action of the novel and captures us for a voyage leading to a hopeful and heart-warming message. A page turning, one sitting read, it’s the perfect antidote for the winter and promotion of holiday celebration.” – Ann Pearlman, author of The Christmas Cookie Club and A Gift for my Sister.

“John Mariani’s concise, achingly beautiful novella pulls a literary rabbit out of a hat – a mash-up of the cosmic and the intimate, the tragic and the heart-warming – a Christmas tale for all ages, and all faiths. Read it to your children, read it to yourself… but read it. Early and often. Highly recommended.” – Jay Bonansinga, New York Times bestselling author of Pinkerton’s War, The Sinking of The Eastland, and The Walking Dead: The Road To Woodbury.

“Amazing things happen when you open your heart to an animal. The Hound in Heaven delivers a powerful story of healing that is forged in the spiritual relationship between a man and his best friend. The book brings a message of hope that can enrich our images of family, love, and loss.” – Dr. Barbara Royal, author of The Royal Treatment.




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The Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink by John F. Mariani (Bloomsbury USA, $35)

Modesty forbids me to praise my own new book, but let me proudly say that it is an extensive revision of the 4th edition that appeared more than a decade ago, before locavores, molecular cuisine, modernist cuisine, the Food Network and so much more, now included. Word origins have been completely updated, as have per capita consumption and production stats. Most important, for the first time since publication in the 1980s, the book includes more than 100 biographies of Americans who have changed the way we cook, eat and drink -- from Fannie Farmer and Julia Child to Robert Mondavi and Thomas Keller.


"This book is amazing! It has entries for everything from `abalone' to `zwieback,' plus more than 500 recipes for classic American dishes and drinks."--Devra First, The Boston Globe.

"Much needed in any kitchen library."--Bon Appetit.




Now in Paperback, too--How Italian Food Conquered the World (Palgrave Macmillan)  has won top prize  from the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards.  It is a rollicking history of the food culture of Italy and its ravenous embrace in the 21st century by the entire world. From ancient Rome to la dolce vita of post-war Italy, from Italian immigrant cooks to celebrity chefs, from pizzerias to high-class ristoranti, this chronicle of a culinary diaspora is as much about the world's changing tastes, prejudices,  and dietary fads as about our obsessions with culinary fashion and style.--John Mariani

"Eating Italian will never be the same after reading John Mariani's entertaining and savory gastronomical history of the cuisine of Italy and how it won over appetites worldwide. . . . This book is such a tasteful narrative that it will literally make you hungry for Italian food and arouse your appetite for gastronomical history."--Don Oldenburg, USA Today. 

"Italian restaurants--some good, some glitzy--far outnumber their French rivals.  Many of these establishments are zestfully described in How Italian Food Conquered the World, an entertaining and fact-filled chronicle by food-and-wine correspondent John F. Mariani."--Aram Bakshian Jr., Wall Street Journal.


"Mariani admirably dishes out the story of Italy’s remarkable global ascent to virtual culinary hegemony....Like a chef gladly divulging a cherished family recipe, Mariani’s book reveals the secret sauce about how Italy’s cuisine put gusto in gusto!"--David Lincoln Ross, thedailybeast.com

"Equal parts history, sociology, gastronomy, and just plain fun, How Italian Food Conquered the World tells the captivating and delicious story of the (let's face it) everybody's favorite cuisine with clarity, verve and more than one surprise."--Colman Andrews, editorial director of The Daily Meal.com.

"A fantastic and fascinating read, covering everything from the influence of Venice's spice trade to the impact of Italian immigrants in America and the evolution of alta cucina. This book will serve as a terrific resource to anyone interested in the real story of Italian food."--Mary Ann Esposito, host of PBS-TV's Ciao Italia.

"John Mariani has written the definitive history of how Italians won their way into our hearts, minds, and stomachs.  It's a story of pleasure over pomp and taste over technique."--Danny Meyer, owner of NYC restaurants Union Square Cafe,  The Modern, and Maialino.

                                                                             








              

MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET NEWSLETTER is published weekly.  Publisher: John Mariani. Editor: Walter Bagley. Contributing Writers: Christopher Mariani,  Misha Mariani, John A. Curtas, Gerry Dawes, Geoff Kalish. Contributing Photographer: Galina Dargery. Technical Advisor: Gerry McLoughlin.

 

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© copyright John Mariani 2024




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