Springwillow Farm

Raymond Loo runs Springwillow Farm in Springfield area of Prince Edward Island. Raymond is excellent farmer who is very passionate about the future of PEI, organics and his impact on the world. His father immigrated from the Netherlands in 1951 and bought the farm in 1952. The family has pioneered many different varieities of potatoes, including Island Sunshine, a bright yellow fleshed potato, with a high resistance to late blight. In addition to excellent potatoes, Raymond grows organic crops, raises beef and many other projects. He is currently growing dandelion root for the Japanese market and possibly offering the first organic Canola oil from the Maritimes. We at Dayboat Restaurant (http://www.dayboat.ca/) are looking forward to a long and happy partnership with Raymond

You can virtually visit their farm at:

http://www.springwillowfarms.com/

the green house

onions waiting to be planted

Roast Halibut with Raymond's Fabula Potato Scales

seared Scallops, crushed White Beans, Tomato Confit

Fennel - Orange Salad, roasted Garlic vinaigrette

Spring on PEI

The more time I spend on Prince Edward Island, the more I fall in love with it. It doesn't have the raw beauty of coastal Northern California, Oregon or even Alaska but it has the charm and quaint appeal of a time removed. Almost small town America in it's most idealic sense. The island is dotted with small rural farmers, fishing villages and a lot of churches... I am watching with great anticipation the plowed fields slowly awaking from their winter slumber... Sprouts raising their leaves and tendrils towards the creator of all life! It is a joyous celebration - SPRING has SPRUNG!

Today, we are eating the product of living good on the island... I suppose yesterday was the seafood end of the stick. Colville Oysters so fresh they made the house smell like the sweet sea... Atlantic Salmon and local Scallops. Today we are celebrating the farmers of the island. For lunch we are having a crispy roasted Farmhouse Hen with small Carrots, Parsnips, Garlic, sweet Onions and Island Potatoes drizzled with Olive Oil and seasoned with Mediterranean Herbs and hand harvested Sea Salt... washed down with one, two maybe three bottles of red wine.

We were at Rossignol Winery and tasted many surprisingly good and interesting wines. I don't think Chateau Petrus is starting to worry but they were honest and good for what they were. I was surprised that Lisa enjoyed the Red Wine - Blueberry Wine. She wants to pair with Chocolate.

Scenes that Spring is on the way... Two shots from the forest only a few kilometers away... Viva Prince Edward Island! Boy are we happy!

Ma Cuisine - from the Planet to YOUR Table!

Exploring the connections between plate and planet!

My career in food unofficially began at the young age of two when, after watching a TV show, I filleted my sister’s goldfish. I cut them in half with a pair of scissors and unceremoniously deposited them into the toilet bowl. Or maybe it began when my beloved rabbit ran away from its locked cage. My grandfather consoled me as I cried. How was it possible that my rabbit had picked the lock and escaped? Our Chef at the Auberge told me that rabbits did that sometimes. Sometimes they just ran away. That day we had a typically huge French lunch. The whole family gathered around the table; wines were poured, food served. My grandfather leaned over and asked how I liked my “chicken” leg. My god it was the longest leg ever seen. Midway through that leg my grandfather informed me I was eating my beloved pet rabbit. Damn it tasted good.

“The charcoal kills us, but what does it matter?
The shorter our lives, the greater our glory.”

- Marie Antoine Carème

I can remember quite vividly those first, very tense moments of orientation at the New England Culinary Institute. Michel LeBorgne, the Head Instructor, pacing in front of us, intimidating us. He gave a long speech of the horrors of the new life I had just signed up for. He told us we would work 100-hour weeks. When our friends and family were playing, we would be working. When our family and friends were eating their Christmas goose, we would be cooking it for someone else’s family. We would never make enough money for our own place or even our own pair of shoes. Life would be rough. Chefs, LeBorgne went on, had the highest divorce rates, suicide rates and alcohol abuse rates. It was a hard life for a chosen few. Strangely enough this excited me. The intended purpose of the speech was to weed out people not cut out for this life. Over the next two years, the taunting would get more hard-core. The hours of classes were similar to what we were going to experience in the early years of our new life.

I often felt more like I was a new recruit in the Marines than a new student at a prestigious cooking school. The old-school Chefs would bark orders like a drill sergeant at boot camp. There was no easy path through this. They wanted to break you before they put their stamp of approval on you. You had to walk the wampum line. I can remember Chef/Instructor Michel Martinez sticking his arms into a deep cauldron of boiling court bouillon gently squeezing the sides of a beautiful salmon to see if it was poached enough. Oh how I admired how he could keep his arms in the boiling liquid feeling no pain. I wanted to be like that. These guys were not mere men they were machines. I remember the day he taught us how to make a terrine of pork. We had assembled all the raw ingredients, the ground pork, fat, veal, chicken, pate spices, sel rose. He made us taste the raw mixture to see if it was salted properly. Raw pork? Raw chicken? That was supposed to kill us. These Chefs were supermen; people to be respected.

The curriculum at N.E.C.I. was set up in a way that after six months of intense training they farmed you out for a six-month internship under the guide of another Chef. I was lucky enough to be sent to the Café Mariposa at Deer Valley Ski Resort in Park City, Utah. Chef Franklin Biggs would be my next mentor. The schedule for my first week with Chef Biggs was posted. The Chef had given me three days off. I complained to him that I was there to work, not to play. In retrospect it is kind of funny, nowadays I would happily take three days off. I used to come in four to six hours early just to learn more. I would read my Repetoire de la Cuisine while riding up ski lifts. My relatives in France are constantly amazed at how little time we take off in America. Even my uncle Pierrot, who runs a beautiful Auberge in Vieux Mareuil, near Brantome, in Perigord takes a few months off during the slow season. My cousin Catherine cannot believe that an Executive Chef in America only gets one week of vacation time a year.

During my first year at school, I met Chef Louis Szathmary of the Bakery Restaurant. He came to N.E.C.I and gave a speech about the industry. A speech much like a General would give to anxious troops moments before being parachuted into hostile lands. I was hooked. I needed to be like these gods that sat before me. I ended up being Chef Szathmary’s apprentice, then his Executive Chef at the world famous Bakery restaurant in Chicago. At the tender age of twenty-one I was leading a rather large brigade at a famous restaurant. Louis was a great guy to work for. He was hard, old school and demanding. He was very firm but loving. I remember cooking for a special party and Louis corning me in the kitchen yelling “you are not my Chef you are my sh@t!” That might sound abusive to those not intimately familiar with life in a great kitchen, but it is meant to harden you not to break you. Working in a kitchen is very demanding on many fronts. You work long hours in a hot hostile environment. There is constant pressure from waiters looking for their food. Hundred of tickets with hundred of dishes all needing to come out together at the same time. I loved the pressure. I could handle it; I thrived in it. It was from him that I developed a passion for collecting cookbooks and a yearning to be a great Chef. I spent two years in the trenches with Louis. Two years that I often wish I could relive or thank Louis for. I had an old fashioned apprenticeship under him like few Chefs today get to go through.

Over the next few years I worked under more and more Chefs. I learned more and more. I was working six to seven day weeks with very little time off. The most hours I ever worked in a single week was 126. The longest single work shift I ever did was 37 hours straight. That was the norm and was expected. And I did so with pride and determination. When I had my own restaurant, I expected the same of those under me. I took no prisoners… either you worked like me or you were out.

I was married for seven years to my high school sweetheart. She would go on vacations with my family while I was working. After five years, she told me I was more married to my kitchen than her. I agreed and two years later we divorced. I wasn’t sad; I still had my kitchen and that is all I ever wanted or needed. I had many short relationships, but I was still married to the kitchen. To be great one needs to dedicate themselves. The kitchen was more important than anything else in my life. I kept on this path for a few more years.

“I heard them talking to one another in murmurs and whispers. They talked about illness, money, shabby domestic cares. Their talk painted the walls of a dismal prison in which men had locked themselves up. And suddenly I had a vision of the face of destiny.”

- Antoine de Saint Exupéry

Than it came the day I had an epiphany about the restaurant business. I started to view the restaurant world through another set of eyes. My father had always told me I was a great artist but a terrible businessman. I started to be discouraged by the lack of appreciation of great food, by the way some owners only cared about money, not about quality or the art. The kitchen was always a second thought to these hackers. I was working in New York at a small, faded jewel of an Inn when my father succumbed to lung cancer. My father, my role model had passed away. In his last moments he told me he used to view the world as black and white. That as he got older he realized the world not only was black and white, but there were many shades of gray in between. That was the beginning of the end for me. I started to reflect on a lifetime of missed moments with my family. Of times when I wish I had been at Christmas with my family. The restaurant business had lost its soul in my eyes. I had sacrificed friendships, relationships and family for food. And as Marco Pierre White once said it’s just food at the end of a day, just food.

I ended up working for a German billionaire in rural Georgia on what at first looked like the pay off for a lifetime of hard work. A twenty-room country inn with 10,000 acres of hunting grounds with a restaurant that he wanted to be the best in the country. It was a great concept with beautiful facilities. After a while he allowed me to turn 80 acres into an organic farm where I could grow my own vegetables and fruits. I was in heaven. Then he abruptly fired the first general manager and hired a Scottish guy. The new GM was the physical incarnation of everything wrong with the restaurant business. One day he told me to start using frozen French toast sticks and imitation maple syrup instead of homemade French toast and real maple syrup for our overnight guests. These people were paying premium dollar for an overnight stay. I refused. About the same time I hired Walter Williams to be my farmer. Walt was a local organic farmer with a fantastic reputation for high quality produce. His tomatoes were used in the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes”. Walt was a kind, caring, nurturing fellow. We enjoyed many long talks about life in the herb gardens next to the restaurant. It was during this time that he mentioned the Appalachian Trail to me. He used to bring Boy Scout troops to the southern terminus of the trail at Springer Mountain, Georgia. I started reading everything I could on the trail. The following spring I headed northbound from Springer Mountain to Mount Katahdin in northern Maine. I hiked 2,168.2 miles.

Benton Mac Kaye, a part-time Federal employee who worked as a forester and was a self-trained planner, conceived the Appalachian Trail. In October of 1921, he wrote “An Appalachian Trail: A Project in Regional Planning.” Mac Kaye envisioned a series of farms, work camps and study camps connected by a trail to be used as a respite from the tensions of industrialization. On August 14th, 1937 the Appalachian Trail became a reality. It wasn’t until Earl Schaffer in the 1940’s hiked the entire distance. Since then, thousands and thousands of people attempt an end to end thru hike. Only ten percent of those who try ever finish.

I spent the next year out of the business before I heard the kitchen calling me back. A former Sous Chef was a partner in a new Provencal concept in Chicago. He asked me if I was interested in being the Chef of it. I was excited to return the city and take on this challenge. I started working on the concept in late August of 2002. From me came the name, the logo and the menu direction. The restaurant was Southern French overall with Moroccan, Spanish and Italian influences; cuisines that have a seductive pull over me. Over the next year and a half the restaurant did extremely well. Food and Wine magazine named us as one of the top ten new restaurants in the world. Gourmet and Bon Appetit named us as places you have to go.

The whole time I was working six days a week with very little time for my private life. My mother would come with my niece once a week just so I could see both of them. I started to feel what Phil Couisineau describes as Soul Loss. “There is another call, the one that arrives the day when what once worked no longer does. Sometimes people need a shock; sometimes a tocsin call. It’s time for a wake up call. A man being fired from a job; a child runs away from home; ulcers take over the body. The ancients called this “soul loss”. Today, the equivalent is the loss of meaning or purpose in our lives. There is a void where there should be what Gerard Manley Hopkins calls “juice and joy.” The heart grows cold, life loses its vitality. Our accomplishments seem meaningless.” The joy I once felt for the business had disappeared. I started noticing how no one around me was excited about the hours they worked. How some people hid their woes in womanizing, drinking, drugs, fragile marriages. I saw people overwork themselves, losing those precious, irreplaceable moments with their spouses and children. It didn’t seem right. There had to be a way to balance work and family. I started thinking back to my father lying in the hospital bed. I had lost my desire to sacrifice my life for the restaurant industry. At the same time I met a wonderful woman named Lisa. Both of us had met after failed relationship to artists. It is because I love her that I want to live my life with her, not next to her. I am no longer interested in female roommates or solitary existences.

Long ago I admitted to myself that happiness in my life involves a certain amount of travel, well a lot of travel, and changes of scenery... some folks live their lives perfectly happy in one spot... Then there are people like me and Lisa... Perhaps it is that I need balance in my world. A balance between the hard core Chef life and the wanderer.

So we loaded up our faithful VW microbus and headed northbound to Prince Edward Island. I guess part of it is that I have always wanted to go up there and part is I am intrigued by the challenges and prospects painted by Robert and Laura Shapiro, owners of Dayboat (http://www.dayboat.ca/). So far the position is simply seasonal. Perhaps this position could evolve into something more than a summer gig, maybe not. Either way, Dayboat is going to be a fantastic experience. The menu will feature foods foraged, fished and farmed almost exclusively from PEI.

My cuisine has evolved into what Joel Robuchon calls "Cuisine Actuelle". A style of cooking where one does not hide the flavors under thousands of other ingredients or under a heavy sauce. The ingredient is prominent and featured. I am looking at the menu not in terms of being a French or Italian or Brasserie menu but a universal menu who's connecting line is the bounty of food products from the Island. I look forward with the excitment of a child on Christmas morning to discover my new world. I hope this is a bright new beginning in my constant relationship with the restaurant business... time will tell.

During the October to the following season I am going to try my hand at writing, first a book on slow food PEI style and secondly a guidebook for wayward Hippies who like to camp and travel the country in search of festivals, food, great campspots, VDUB mechanics ( an unfortunate by product of making a twenty year old microbus your home for six months), microbrews and wineries...

François de Mélogue

The Appalachian Trail and it's long termed Effects

“About midnight the sky cleared and stars shone as clear as gems on jet black velvet. A cold wind swept the mountain, and I shivered in spite of fire. Such a night is guaranteed to install profound respect for the power of nature and the vastness of the universe.”

~ Earl V. Schaffer

The AT had a profound affect on my life both prior to 9/11 and certainly after. Prior to thru hiking in 2000, I was working in Georgia at what should have amounted to the summation of my professional culinary career. I got the Chef/Manager position working for a German Billionaire at a new Southern Country Inn where money seemed to be no object. The only things that mattered was the quality of the experience. Bernard Schneider had given me an 80 acre parcel of land in which to grow organic vegetables, fruits and flowers for our Inn. I hired a retired organic farmer named Walt who spoke so highly of the Appalachian Trail. He had led so many boy scouts troops on overnighters in the Georgia sections of the trail. Walt and I quickly became friends. I truly valued our lunch time conversations on life.

In 1999, my father had passed away. On his death bed my father had said that that he no longer viewed the world as black and white but in a series of shades of grey. His death caused me to want to hike the trail to help find answers as to the real meaning of life. Prior to my thru hike I was very materialistic. I had bought the idea of the American Dream hook line and sinker. I wanted the nicest car; the best computer… what I valued was superficial consumer goods. My life was a hollow meaningless existence. I was very materialistic.

“I heard them talking to one another in murmurs and whispers. They talked about illness, money, shabby domestic cares. Their talk painted the walls of a dismal prison in which men had locked themselves up. And suddenly I had a vision of the face of destiny.”

~ Antoine de Saint Exupery

Sometimes in life we build a prison around ourselves without consciously doing so. We give ourselves many reasons why we can’t become what we truly are. I will scream if I ever hear another person tell me that they would like to hike the Appalachian Trail if they didn’t have a mortgage, job, kids… Life isn’t meant to cage us. Life should offer us a plethora of experiences, both good and bad, to grow and evolve from.

“I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.”

~ Thoreau

On March 6th, 2000 (my birthday), I started walking north from Springer Mountain with Walt, my farmer friend. I began what really had amounted to a complete evolution of my soul and body. Every mile I walked, every mountain I got to the top of, shed another layer off the onion skin like nature of my world view. The more I walked the more Mother Nature taught me in her gentle way about the beauty and importance of nature, life and our part as humans in the balance. If you ask a question in the woods she will answer you. Her answer may take a little deciphering but it will come. Sometime in comes as a vision, a dream or an experience… We just have to be patient and take time to meditate its meaning. You spend so much time walking the long green tunnel by yourself. I have yet to meet a hiker that hasn’t relived major parts of their lives while walking through the woods. I can remember quite clearly March 28th… Six years before hiking the trail I had been involved in a hit and run accident of which I should not have survived, let alone walked again. An 18 wheeler traveling 75 miles per hour had hit me while I was driving my 1973 Moto Guzzi motorcycle in Chicago. The driver hit me on a major highway and left me for dead. I never was religious but that night I asked god not to let me die like this. For a long, long time I harbored anger for the guy who hit me. On March 28th, 2000 I had this amazing vision while walking in the Smoky’s. It was god’s love filling my heart with an unbelievable and really indescribable sensation of peace and serenity. And from that moment I was completely able to no longer hate the man that almost killed me. Harboring hate taxes your soul. From that day I was able to free myself from that… another layer peeled away.

“Today also was a realization kind of day. Today I release my anger towards the trucker driver who hit me at 80 miles an hour on my motorcycle almost 6 years ago and left me for dead on the side of the road. I vow no longer to hate him. If he had any consciousness about him, he replayed that day over and over in his own head. Never fully sure if he killed me or not. So on this beautiful day I say goodbye to the evil thoughts”.

~ Aswah (from my online journal)

From that day love began to take over. Love replaced anger and hatred in my heart. The trail teaches many incredible life lessons about dealing with one another. I always felt long distance hiking was kind of a Gilligan’s Island sort of experience. We all are sharing an experience that is both very positive and can be negative. All who hike will feel pain, discomfort, hunger… We might feel homesickness. The trail also allows for moments that escape words… the most beautiful sunsets, truly wonderful moments when a complete stranger will go out of their way to do something for you. Hiking the trail renewed my belief that the human race is not damned. The bounds forged between those that share such a profound experience are long lasting. I have never been in combat but talking to friends who have it almost seems like there is a parallel experience.

In the normal waking world you may not have a friend who is gay, or old, or a military general, or religious… On the trail I had many friends who crossed the boundaries of my norm. If someone needed your help then you helped them. Thousands of times I saw people give someone else a meal, carry their pack because they had twisted their ankle or offer comfort and solace in a moment of doubt, pain or suffering. Despite what you may read on various trail forums the brother and sisterhood of those who walk together is undeniable and extremely elevating and heart warming.

“Today as I walked through the woods, God spoke to me. It was in a language hard to understand, at first. Slowly God showed his presence through the sunrays shining radiantly through the trees. I fell to my knees and asked for his mercy. I offered my heart to him to use as a conduit of his love. A golden feeling of love, peace tranquility, and serenity overcame my body. Somewhere in the woods I met JAH. Where the tears from my eyes fell beautiful flowers arose. My body trembles as I recall that day…”

~ Aswah from July 23rd, 2000

Another profound effect of the trail was my personal transition from the numbered world to that of the soulful world. The trail slowly and surely strips most of us down to what is really important and necessary. It reduces us to our basic selves. Many start at Springer with packs that weigh tons… by Damascus they have shed more and by Katahdin their packs are mere shades of what they were. The reality is that in life one needs food, water, shelter and companionship. What we don’t need is to know exactly what day it is today… as Janis Joplin once said “it’s always today man.” After a while you slip into the rhythms of life… you wake up when you have slept enough, you eat when you are hungry and you sleep when you are tired. It never really matters what time any of those things occur. In the numbered world we think hey it’s noon, time to eat lunch. When a friend buys a house we would ask how much did it cost? Not are you happy? It seems in the numbered world we have to relate everything in terms of numbers, how much do you weigh, how much does it cost, what time do you have to wake up, how many miles do you have to walk… We never seem to let nature dictate these things. I always enjoyed taking an afternoon nap along the trail. In 2004, I never felt compelled to make miles like in 2000. Many times Daytripper and myself would stop when we found the perfect spot to set up our tarp.

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel, What I can never express, yet cannot all conceal.”

~ Woodsworth

I started reading a lot of books on the trail. Books like “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho, “The Little Prince” and “Wind, Sand and Stars” by St. Exupery, “The Art of Pilgrimage” by Phil Coussineau. These books started to get me to think in different ways and help cause me to start viewing the world differently. In the woods you have a lot of time to contemplate the meanings and how they relate to ourselves.

"Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second’s encounter with God and with eternity.”

‘Every second of search is an encounter with God”, the boy told his heart. “When I have been truly searching for my treasure, everyday has been luminous, because I’ve known that every hour was a part of the dream that I would find it. When I have been truly searching for my treasure, I’ve discovered things along the way that I never would have seen had I not had the courage to try things that seemed impossible for a shepherd to achieve.”

~ Paulo Coelho

The time I realize the most how profoundly I had changed was when I arrived back at home in Chicago after finishing. While hiking I had sprouted dreads, lost tons of weight and no longer cared for the material experience. I returned to Chicago, a cold and gray city, full of folks that needed their SUVs to be cool, their plastic surgery to be happy with themselves… they equated their physical worth in terms of how much their house cost or the value of their car or how much something had cost. On the trail we shared what we had with those who needed. “reach out your hand if your cup is empty, if it’s full may it be full again.” In the materialistic world it was everyman women and child for themselves. No more selfless giving. No more sharing and really no more love and compassion, at least not in the magnitude of the trail experience. I worked the following winter at Eastern Mountain Sports in suburban Chicago. People actually came to the store only looking for Northface fleece jackets. I would tell them all fleece came from Malden Mills and are essentially the same. No they wanted the fleece that cost $160 instead of $30. Once a guy came in and said he wanted the most expensive Gore Tex jacket we had. He was playing golf with his buddies and had to one up another guy he played with. People harassed me because of my dreads… even when I helped them. I knew I no longer was of their world.

"These city walls, are like a prison. We got keep on living with our backs against the wall. We are creatures of love; victims of hate...Start living on a higher vibration. Perfection of divinity is everyone's duty. Don't waste your time, living for the vanities. We are creatures of faith; victims of destiny...which we created. Now we are living on a higher vibration."

~ Ziggy Marley

Now, many years have passed since my first hike in 2000. Many things have changed in the world. 9/11 occurred. Global Warming is threatening our very existence. I currently live in Mendocino County in California in a small hippie town called Philo. My county is one of the few counties in the country that is progressive in it’s thoughts about global warming, alternate energy, alternate lifestyles, etc. In this small corner of the world people really do care about one another. I could never live again in a “Shitty” as Peter Tosh would call them. The trail started me down the road to where I am bound. I have spent a lot of time reading Edward Abbey, Howard Zinn and others. I am working towards being a voice of positive change. I would never have been who I am today if it weren’t for the trail and all the wonderful people that reside in that community. As my friend and fellow hiker Pointman once said “everyone on the trail is just another best friend I haven’t met yet.”

Blessings and Love to One and All who allow Mother Nature to Awaken their inner selves…

One Love, Aswah and his Gold Pimp Boots!!!

Some Notes before we get into this too far...

I thought, shortly after my first post, that I ought to clarify some aspects of my recipes. The recipes given are not intended for people who need to be hand held throughout the cooking experience. They are for people who can let go of their phobias and let the moment dictate the outcome! Cooking is not an exacting science meant to be rigid and unforgiving. I always tell beginning cooks in my kitchens that you need to make love to your food. Those of you with dirty minds may want to go play for a moment will I clarify this. The difference between one cook and another, is the amount of love one puts into their food. Eating is far more than just a collection of ingredients measured and mixed at the right moment. Cooking is an ancient connection between the farmers, foragers and fishermen (and women!!) and the table...

“Even as an old peasant woman recognizes her god in a painted image, in a childish medal, in a chaplet, so life would speak to us in it’s humblest language in order we understand. The joy of living, I say, was summed up for me in the remembered sensation of that burning and aromatic swallow, that mixture of milk and coffee and bread by which men hold communion with tranquil pastures, exotic plantations, and golden harvests, communion with earth.”

- Antoine de Saint Exupery

A dining experience has much more to do with how you feel and your mood than what's on the plate or how fast the waiter brings your food. Think about the most memorable meals in your life. For me, they are moments shared with family... like the time I made Cioppino on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean just north of Mendocino when my cousin Andre, his family and my mom - Mishi came to visit Lisa and myself. I timed the meal to be at it's zenith when the sun was setting into the ocean with deep hues of orange, gold and purple...

“I love thee twilight! As thy shadows roll. The calm of the evening steals upon my soul, Sublimely tender, solemnly serene, Still as the hour, enchanting as the scene. I love thee, twilight! For thy gleams impart. Their dear, their dying influence to my heart.”

- Montgomery

Or, the luncheon we had with Josh Chandler and family at his winery in the Anderson Valley, California... the bounty of foods, wines and friendship. Josh raises his own pigs to make his own sausages, prosciuttos and pancettas.

Experiences like that cannot be replicated at whim... They are the culminations of the moment! No meal at Louis the XV or Troisgros can compare! What most restauranteurs forget in the equation is the most simplest thing of all... it is creating a moment in the customers visit that makes them laugh, smile and be happy. If they can accomplish that then people will come back to your restaurant.

So go to your kitchens and experiment. Pour a big glass of wine; feel devine! Turn on your favorite music... dance like no one is watching. Open your hearts and your mind. Do not be scared to try something new and different. If you don't have ramps use something else. Do not worry about exact proportions. Food is forgiving!!!

Live the LIFE you LOVE

LOVE the Life you LIVE

ASWAH

Spring has finally come!

Being that this is my first post on my first blog I feel as though I must embark with some sort of fanfare; a smack of the champagne bottle on the keel of the boat… though I wish not to be remembered as the Titanic was remembered… I start with some words from Cactus Ed:

“Do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am. A Reluctant enthusiast and a part time crusader. A Half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the West. It is even more important to enjoy it while you can, while it’s still there. So get out there, hunt, fish, mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the Griz, climb a mountain, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and elusive air. Sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness of the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves. Keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive. And I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over the desk-bound people with their hearts in safe deposit boxes and their eyes hypnotized by their desk calculators, I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards.”

~ Edward Abbey

Spring has finally come! – the blog commences here…

The early messengers signal that Spring is just around the corner out here in the Northeast… the ramps, morels, wild watercress and Miner’s lettuce have all stuck their heads up out of the dirt and eagerly point towards the sun from the forest floor. The first wild Halibuts from Alaska start to appear on menus across America with their brilliant red blood lines and translucent flesh… a new dawn casting it’s waking rays across an emerging and appreciative new day. Time to remove ourselves from the deep slumber of winter. Air out the dank spaces and put your dancing shoes on; the dance begins…

"We either have wild places or we don’t. We admit the spiritual – emotional validity of the wild, beautiful places or we don’t. We have a philosophy of simplicity of experience in these wild places or we don’t. We admit an almost religious devotion to the clean exposition of the wild, natural Earth or we don’t.”

- Ansel Adams

Being a cook is not so difficult. I suppose it is like anything else, millions of small steps repeated over and over and over. Man’s vain attempt at domination over what is. Perfection over imperfection. When I stop and really think about it, the Chef tries to conquer and bring nature under his fold. The smart Chef realizes that Nature herself, Mother Earth, the Earth Goddess… whatever moniker you choose, cannot be overcome nor subdued… she can be coddled, massaged but never beaten… So why should do some Chefs seek domination, perfection over nature? I cannot believe I just typed that phrase. Perfection over nature? Louis Szathmary once told me that nature is not perfect. Man has to make it perfect. I love Louis, but that was egotistical and unreal.

I try to live in the natural world and let the natural mystic dictate my tastes. This next dish perfectly exemplifies the very idea. It’s something that really came together to celebrate the beginning of the Spring food season…



Wild Halibut with Morels
the last of winters hand cured Pancetta and wild Ramps

ingredients:

1 each Shallots, peeled and chopped finely
2 sprigs Thyme
½ c. White Wine
1 c. Chicken Stock, warm
2 oz. dried Morels, added to the stock
¼ c. Verjus
4 oz. Butter, use either fresh from the farm or French
4 – 6 oz. Halibut steaks
big pinch Espelette Peppers, Sea Salt and Black Pepper
2 c. mashed Potatoes, your favorite recipe
¼ pound hand made Pancetta
2 bunches wild Ramps
untold quantities of butter and olive oil and maybe even duck fat…

directions:

for the sauce:

Sauté the shallot and thyme sprigs in a small knob of butter. When the shallot just starts turning brown, deglaze with the white wine, chicken stock infused with morels and verjus. Continue cooking till the liquid has reduced by fifty percent. Remove the sauce from the heat and whisk in butter. Strain sauce and keep in a warm place. Reserve.

for the wild Ramps:

Finely dice pancetta. Add butter and olive oil to pancetta. Add the chopped white stems of the wild ramps and cook till they are tender. Continue cooking till the sweet smells of pork fat and forest garlic intermingles in your nostrils. Add the well washed leaves of wild ramps. and cook till they soft and wilted, about five minutes. Reserve.

Cooking the wild Halibut:

Roll the four pieces of halibut in flour seasoned with Espelette peppers, sea salt and black pepper. Drop each morsel of halibut into a hot pan with both butter and olive oil. I would use a less expensive olive oil. Heat is the enemy of flavor! Cook until the edges are browned and the meat cooked throughout. You may even have to pop the fish into the oven for five or so minutes.

Assembly of the finished dish:

Put a big spoonful of mashed potatoes onto the center of a warm plate. Make a well and fill with the ramps. Top with crispy halibut and morels. Drizzle with the morel sauce and enjoy immediately! People wait for food, food does not wait for people!