The Pre Order Homegrown Book Date with Destiny

We are now a week away from the official ship date for my book, The Hamptons & Long Island Homegrown Cookbook!

Can you believe it?

It is still available in pre-order until the “street date” scheduled for June 5^th or 6^th when it will be available in book stores, botanic gardens, the featured restaurants – and anyone who would like to offer to sell a superlative book about local chefs, restaurants and their gardens.  J ha!  I am giddy with expectation. 

I am told the pre-order price is a bit more sweet than retail… So if price is a concern, go for the pre-order good through May.

You can order online from Amazon Author's Central and Pre-Order and Barnes & Noble

I need to complete the Author’s page at B&N… sorry. 

However, as you will see at Amazon and on various calendars and blogs, my first speaking opporuntiy for the book will be May 16^th at the very prestigious, 92^nd Street Y as part of their speaker’s program. 

The Hamptons & Long Island Homegrown Cookbook premieres at 92nd St Y

I have asked two of the master chefs featured in the book who also have a New York City presence to participate.  I know how crazy the Island’s chefs and restaurants get while anticipating the “silly season.” 

This will be a fantastic launch.  There will be an overview presentation by me, the author and I have invited two of the master chefs from the book to accompany me.

They will provide a cooking demonstration, a food tasting, and recipes from the book..

Also, this will be the first venue that the book, The Hamptons & Long Island Homegrown Cookbook will be available for sale in the real world! 

This will be the premiere book signing!

Hope to see you at the Y.

It's Official

“It’s official.” 

I started this entry almost two months ago.

 

I got my damaged, useless, hard drive returned from the second of the companies who bill themselves as experts in retrieving information from damaged hard drives. 

It's official.  It is dead.  Nothing more they could do.

I feel so betrayed, by data doctors, the first company who sweet-talked me all the way through a month, my account rep Kelly cooing and reassuring me that “It looks good, they are sending out for more equipment.”  And “Looks good, starting testing.”

And so on. 

Just like someone nervously waiting and clinging to every word the doctor administers to the attendant family members while their loved one lays in the recovery room, I am fearful and at the same time, understandably hopeful. 

I hear “Looking good” as the constant refrain.  I hang on those words. That’s not surprising is it?

This goes on until I get a call on my mobile a hot afternoon in late July.  I recognize the Arizona area code by now. I’m driving so I pull over, foreboding.  When I hear a man on the other end, rather than my soothing Kelly, I know it is bad.  I should’ve hung up.

This new persona informs me there is nothing more they can do.  Dead. Morte. 

I say I can’t believe it.  Where’s Kelly?  Thinking she might be my rabbit’s foot, I resort to the known, the familiar.  This pronouncement of finality is more than I can manage. 

I refuse to believe there is nothing that can be done.  “What if there were state secrets on there? Or the cure for cancer?”  I had invented a litany of “what if “scenarios that could be most catastrophic and momentous to the world unless retrieved. 

To me, nothing was more important to me than my book.  And my pictures. 

But I was trying to appear more concerned with the welfare of the world and how a situation I describe could indeed happen and they just needed to take measures now to save the world.

Reality like this crash never really settles in. I had to ignore the “Why me?” explorations and blaming myself and wanting to turn back the hands of time…

I had already started to rewrite the chef’s profiles for the book, “Homegrown Long Island.”

I couldn’t let this disaster get in the way of publishing the book.

I owed it to the noble chefs, their farmers and gardeners and fishermen and herders and dairymen. 

And to my family and friends.  To my garden design clients. 

So many people had supported me throughout the process of the concept – securing the first publisher in 2002, getting the green light from Voyageur in 2008, the contract in 2009, the selection of New York City and Garden State and Hampton chefs in 2009 and 2010, and the change in direction or switch to expand the Hampton and to make the first book focus on Long Island. And to make the book about the New York City chefs, that was such a completed work by last November when the change was made, the second book. 

I’d come so far. I couldn’t let this crash derail the integrity of the project.

I had to complete the chef’s profiles for the book.

As I said, we did try another data recovery company and while they read to me from the same soothing script about doing the “testing,” “looking good,” blah, blah… I knew better than to be lulled.  While we had to try – figuring it is always necessary to secure the second opinion before declaring it terminal– it was useless. I knew. Dead is dead. 

(When this is all over, I swear I want to work with some techies to develop some way there can be a gas gauge kind of meter to alert the user that the hard drive is heading for the cemetery.  There must be a way.) 

Immediately, I had started writing from the very beginning.

Meanwhile, almost a month had passed since disaster struck. 

My wonderful, kind editor gave me an extension to September 15^th.

 

I had 15 chefs to write about. 

The profiles offer an intimate look into what makes these sterling chefs the leaders of the local food movement.  And such outstanding cooks. 

The profiles chronicle how they doggedly got to the elevated, joyful, frustrating and rewarding position they are in today.  How they give back to their communities.  How they nurture and develop local food sources to meet their exacting standards. How they respect their terroir and their food relationships.  And oh, how they can combine ingredients to create such amazing, over the top culinary art. 

It was a very tall order to honor them.  Even with a lot more time to do it.  Now I had to crunch.

In terms of writing the profile, it is a four-step process for me.

From the notes I took for every chef interview I write the profile overview – a more fully- fleshed out outline, if you will. 

Next, I add to the overview draft from the digital recordings I made during the interview.  Whether on the phone or in person, the recordings help me capture the nuance that is part of a shared conversation. 

Plus my handwriting is so bad and I get so swept up in the interview that oftentimes when I return to the notes, I have to ask myself, “What does that say?” 

It’s a little like putting together a puzzle.  More so for step three, which is putting the text into some kind of order that makes sense – chronologically, mainly.

Then I have to think. Dream.  What makes this chef and his or her vision so unique?  Why are they leaders in the fork to table or fin to table movement? 

They offered me a very personal look into their culinary art -- what compels them to create delicious food that is full of local flavors – and to want to share their gastronomic alchemy.

The profile narrative has to be sweet to read.  So interesting for the reader to want to learn more about each chef and their unique story.

Then I write.

And write and write. 

It wasn’t always pretty… The process was filled with more drama and not a few frustrations.  I am hoping I will look back at the time and laugh.

It’s too raw to laugh yet….

It's Official also, that I can report the Manuscript is complete! 

I prevailed.  With help from family – mainly my talented, academy-award winning cousin Maryann who read through the profiles, offering input and support on the individual narratives, I made the September 15^th manuscript deadline!  (Those email exchanges could be a book unto itself – the give and take and learning on both sides...) 

The profiles are now in the hands of the chefs for them to fact check. 

I am now rendering the gardens and farms into the watercolor art for the book and securing the plant lists and the four recipes from each chef.

Getting the manuscript written in time for the deadline was a huge, seemingly impossible task given the amount of time, or lack thereof, the work that had to be done for the extended photography sessions where we photograph the chef in their inspired garden or farm with their farmer or gardener friend, in the kitchen cooking, and of the plated food. 

And a myriad of other issues and things to tend to in this, the hottest summer on record in the northeast.

Now that the manuscript is completed, I can take the time to chronicle the making of the book. 

It’s been more than an adventure, I can assure you! 

So now I can start the Prequel.

If It’s Too Hot, Get Out of the Kitchen!

In our case, we couldn’t wait to get into the kitchen.

This year’s photography sessions for the book, “Long Island Homegrown” about master chefs and the gardens and farms that inspire their culinary art, began June 22 on the North Shore of Long Island.    

In the middle of the east coast’s record-breaking heat wave this summer season, we got lucky and our weather has been splendid for the days of shooting thus far.

I determined we could take the Long Island Railroad (LIRR) from Penn Station to four of the restaurants --two on the North Shore: 18 Bay in Bayville and Bistro M in Glen Head.  And two on the South Shore: The Lake House in Bay Shore and The Grey Horse Tavern in Bayport.

After some dodgy, early-morning “meet you at the clock shop” on 34^th Street and 7^th Avenue, as advised by agent Hercules from the LIRR (which is in fact now a Swarovski Crystal shop,) the photography team met and was altogether:  Jennifer Calais Smith, the photographer, and Patty White, the food stylist – along with her very talented daughter, Lina.  (Lina possesses and innate eye for art and detail – her Italian side of the family are all artists, Lina draws amazing anime, and contributes when she can to the food compositions, having learned from her mother the pro.) 

So, tickets in hand and with great anticipation for this year’s adventures, we boarded the train to arrive at our first restaurant stop: Bistro M (bistromrestaurant.com) to photograph chef and owner, Mitchell SuDoc.  

(“M” is for Mitchell, in case you overlooked the obvious as I did…Hey, I’m thinking big picture ^:^)

His restaurant is not unlike a garden sprite’s toadstool secret abode, complete with undulating, low sloping gingerbread roof.  It just needed a large Elephant Ear or colocasia leaf to hide under.  

This former candy store is poised almost on the train tracks. When giving me “directions” on how to get to the restaurant, Chef Mitchell says he tells his customers, if you take a breath when you get off the train, you’ve gone to far.  

I replied I won’t “hold my breath” getting to him, thinking I was being funny. 

It was only later, after we left Bistro M, that I noted, I was indeed holding my breath, or hyperventilating - which is probably a better way to characterize our departure...

Truth is, I didn’t even look when we got off the train, as for some reason, I thought he was meeting us. 

He called my mobile to connect, thank goodness…

As we walked to the restaurant, I was thinking I might need to solve a riddle to be admitted to this lavender-topped confection, just like in a Grimm’s fairy tale.

Shortly, we were whisked away to the Rottkamp farm down the block – Chef Mitchell’s selection for his inspired garden.

As soon as you turn in the shaded driveway, there is no doubt as to why. 

The farm reveals itself in row after row of well-tended vegetables to the right punctuated by a cluster of “Bridges of Madison County”-looking barns bordered by a bed of happy yellow sunflowers and jewel-toned zinnias in another bed

The farm beyond seems to rise up in front of you like a bit of heaven. 

They were poised and ready for their close up… Or so I thought. 

The two Rottkamp farmers married two French sisters, Marianne and Michelle who help manage the 150-acre farm.

We were extremely honored the Rottkamps allowed us to take some of the book’s photo images thee as they have a VERY strict policy of no commercial photography at the farm. 

It was not lost on us for a minute.   We were doubly committed to honor the farm and its heritage.

Repeatedly they told us it was only because of Chef Mitchell they even considered this first ever photo shoot to take place!

The mutual respect was palpable. 

When we first got there, we walked into the barn where the wooden tables hold and display the stacks of fresh picked vegetables, fruits and flowers that a Hollywood set designer couldn’t do match for a one-two Technicolor punch that assault all the senses. 

I think we were like sleepwalkers, transfixed by the charm and bounty of the farm-fresh food and the artful arrangement. 

We started clicking away – digital camera, iPhone, and the professional camera. 

It was then we heard “no pictures.”  As we say in France – tant pis – or too bad.

So, that means that you my dear reader must take the train to Glen Head, NY and visit Rottkamp Farm first-hand.  Believe me, it’s worth the trip. 

The experience is a guaranteed nostalgic trip to the small family owned farms of France and America.

And it goes without saying the pristine vegetables; fruits and flowers are worth a king’s ransom.

With parasols, hats, and team in tow, we were able to enjoy a beautiful morning walk up the farm dirt road to the eggplant and tomatoes that were ripe and ready to be picked by Chef for Bistro M and our photo shoot.

Proud of their produce, the sisters Rottkamp and their manager stayed with us, telling us how much they admire Chef Mitchell and enjoy it when he brings his daughter to the farm. 

The heirlooms tomatoes were like candy!  And looked like jewelry bedazzling in their basket – surpassed only by their moniker:  Coeur de boeuf: Heart of the meat/beef – or what we might call, Beefsteak tomatoes!

Back to Bistro M Restaurant where Chef Mitchell will “cook up” or prepare – after all this is summer and we can go light on the cooking element -- a sampling of the recipes he will contribute to the book. 

Here he crafted a farm-fresh beet salad, and fried green tomatoes and what he calls the Rottkamp Farm Market Vegetable Salad – using what’s fresh that day. 

This morning, Chef Mitchell selected a dish that was a treat for the eyes and the taste buds.  My friend Celeste who owns Marquette Restaurant on 12^th Street often reminds me that there is an old French saying that the “eyes eat first.”

And with the bumble bee yellow and American Flyer wagon red watermelons, purple and gold eggplants, crisp red and white radishes, those Rottkamp heirloom tomatoes, fried green tomatoes and fresh basil – the composition was an artful study that was movie-poster gorgeous and delicious to taste.

Chef also made pecan-crusted rack of lamb tapas with lavender-infused ricotta, and buttermilk lemon dressing for the garnish of fresh tomatoes and herbs.  This was crazy good. 

We photographed the completed plated recipes in the outdoor dining area where Bistro M also offers live music that adds to the sensual pleasure of enjoying a fine dining experience. 

Chef Mitchell and I chatted and reviewed a few elements for the profile I write.  Jennifer and Patty were busy working with the ambient light and the plates to make certain we capture the best angle. 

The images help underscore the narrative about each chef and pay respect to their culinary craft.

 

The best photographs this morning are a still life of Chef Mitchell’s artistic creation that will inspire the reader to undertake making these recipes…

Jennifer and Patty work so hard in a very time-compressed window.  We usually have daily double appointments. Moreover, we are mindful of the chef’s precious time and work very hard not to monopolize their schedule or their kitchen.

We were soon back inside the air-conditioned restaurant – thank you. Especially as Bistro M was closed for patrons.  All of us, including Lina, enjoyed the dishes Chef Mitchell prepared.  Mmmm. 

The last order of business before we needed to hop on the train to go further east was to take Chef’s portrait.  I try to get the chefs in a natural yet professional profile to showcase their stature as leaders in the farm to table revolution.  We often have them assume an authoritative stance either in front of the restaurant’s logo or sign or some definitive place within the dining room, in order to lend the image an added sense of place.

(I will share a funny aside about taking Nick & Toni’s Chef Joseph Realmuto’s head shot in a future post – ha!)

We elected to photograph Chef Mitchell outdoors where the restaurant’s name and logo are writ large on the side of the restaurant.  It was now nearing noonish and the heat was blistering.  Especially as there are neither trees nor shade from the building next door.  I tried to shade him with my too-small parasol.  He suggested Patty grab the outdoor umbrella from the restaurant’s entrance.  That worked pretty well and Jennifer worked around the sun issue and the position of the sign and Chef.  

I frequently look at the image on the camera, with Jennifer clicking through and tapping into a more focused close up, noting she can clean this up or highlight that or whatever her photographic talent allows her to do once the images are downloaded onto the Mac. 

I was trying politely (naturally) but firmly trying to herd our team of kittens to make the train.  Granted we were a breath away from the station stop, but we needed to pack up the equipment, take some personal shots with Chef Mitchell; finish cleaning up, and a quick trip to the head. 

After numerous admonishments:  “We need to go.”  “We must go.”  “Must go – Now,” Quickening the frequency – “Must go – Now.” became a mantra of sorts. 

I scooped up Jennifer and our bags and we headed out. 

I was sure Patty and Lina were following right behind us.

We no sooner got to the platform than the train came into view – its locomotive front high beam glaring in the noon day light. 

Yikes! 

Jennifer and I look to the right and see Patty and Lina nervously exiting Bistro M and looking to us. 

The two of them start walking fast, maybe running, down to the platform – but on the wrong side!  Jennifer and I are waving like two air traffic controllers to come back and over the tracks, mouthing, “NO. This side”

The train stops well short of the crossing near the restaurant and we anxiously tell the conductor and the engineer our plight.  “Our associates are on the other side of the tracks and we need them to get on this train as we have another photo shoot/work appointment a few stops east.” 

They kindly tell us, “No problem. We’ll wait for them.”  They can see Patty and Lina. 

Understandably, they did not want to cross the tracks.  (Train track crossing is almost a phobia of mine and even if there is not a train in sight, I have a problem crossing over – whether on foot or in a car!  So I am most empathetic to their plight.)

So I now run back down the platform and steps so they can hear me over the roar of the engine and to tell them, “The train is waiting for you. Come on.  The engineer and conductor will wait.”  They still hesitate.   I can’t get them to understand the train will not go until they are on board…. I keep running.

At some point, they do indeed cross the track and are now barreling toward the car door. 

Out of breath but now safely ensconced in our seats, the conductor smiles as he comes in to take our tickets. 

It was a high drama moment and a quiet train right to our next destination…