GrowNYC Greenmarket Nominated Local Farmers to Attend Slow Food Conference in Terra Madre

From the city that never sleeps and where things get done in a “New York Minute,” the Greenmarket delegates will be immersed in the Slowww way of life…

For the next few days, at least.

Applause, Applause! 

What greater honor could there be for a dedicated, local farmer and artisanal food producer than to be acknowledged as a representative for the Greenmarket at the biannual Slow Food Conference? 

It makes all those early mornings setting up in Union Square, endless hours of washing the baby lettuces, tapping the maple trees and boiling the sap, fretting over the storms and heat and water count for something. 
It’s not just the trip to Torino, Italy, nor the opportunity to mix and network with food artists from around the globe, or even all the great food tastings and samplings.

I think it’s also the recognition that all the hard work, dedication and standards of excellence in honor of fresh, local food matters.

This is important, noble work and just like the Oscar or the Emmy or the Tony, foody peers will forever have respect that you were selected.

I was admiring the pristine lettuces and sassy greens at one of my favorite Greenmarket “boutiques” yesterday when I learned from Bodhitree Farms (www.bodhitreefarm.com)

owner, Nevia No, aka the Greenmarket Goddess, that she was leaving for Terra Madre later that day.  Wowsy!

I was so excited for Nevia.  Questions spilled out of me along with the kudos.

Nevia explained that she is one of two farmers selected to attend the Slow Food conference by GrowNYC Greenmarket Farmers Market (www.grownyc.org/greenmarket.org

The other delegate is Howie and Stephen Cantor of Deep Mountain Maple, Vermont – because “the Italians don’t have maple syrup.”  No said. 

The exotic, sexy elixir is sure to cause a scene in Italy…

The Greenmarket Goddess didn’t have to explain to me why her Bodhitree Farms was chosen.   

No is usually eager to explain that Bodhi means enlightenment in Sanskrit.  A visit to her Greenmarket display with its pure, clean, variety of colorful and delicious vegetables will elevate anyone to a higher consciousness.

Greenmarket Goddess Nevia No’s Bodhitree Farms is located in the Garden State, naturally. She grows hundreds of varieties on 70 acres in Burlington County.  The Farm is a darling of all the New York City Master Chefs and Bodhitree was noted on most of the menu cards at the recent GrowNYC Greenmarket benefits.

The Farm is famous for green and hard to find Asian vegetables including baby lettuces pea shoots, mustard greens, tatsoi, mizuna and some of my favorites too are love her Hawaiian sweet potatoes grown from seed here, and shisito peppers.

  

I went back to take Nevia’s picture and Debbie said I just missed her L  She was on her way to JFK. 

So here is Debbie!  She is there every day of the market along with Nevia.

The theme of this conference is indigenous food and what we can learn from them.

Both Bodhitree and Deep Mountain Maple will have the other delegates swooning. 

I feel like I’m rooting for the home team!

Deep Mountain Maple was hailed as home town heroes in their local news:

www.bartonchronicle.com/index.php/food-ventures

The biannual Slow Food conference is called Terra Madre held in Torino, Italy from October 21^st – October 25^th.

This is the Fourth conference.

Delegates attend events, sample indigenous food, cheese, bread, vegetables, they also attend workshops,  -- brings together small food producers, farmers chefs,

Carlo Petrini started the Slow Food movement as a resistance to a McDonalds going up in Rome and as a backlash to fast food and bad food and the erosion of convivial dining. He has celebrated the importance of real, wholesome food, saying that to regain sovereignty we must rebuild it through an alliance of fisherman, farmers, livestock breeders, chefs, and academics from around the world.

Petrini recently visited the Union Square Greenmarket – and American universities as president of the Slow Food Organization and to promote his new book that highlights the future of food and biodiversity.

The new book is a follow up to Slow Food Nation (2005).  “Terra Madre – Foraging a New Global Network of Sustainable Food Communities” is available now.

 No usually offers cooking demos for Greenmarket buyers to sample the delicious and sometimes new and curious vegetables.  She often does the cooking herself.  Sometime she features a guest cook.

I can’t wait to see what gastronomic surprises she will bring home with her, along with the great stories and learning.  

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…

The Hardest Part About One’s Hard Drive

You never, ever think it will happen to you.  Ever.

Years of bliss.  All the travel and trips in tandem.  And late nights and too many all-nighters together. 

The infinite projects we coupled; witty emails and shared photos…

There was no warning.  No lover’s quarrel.  Not a hint that it would soon rip the heart out of my MacBook – and me with it…

Like a spouse who finds out too late about the cheating partner, I never saw it coming.

But it did happen.

I was blithely finishing up writing some gardening notes and had hit the “Send” button.  And while it was taking forever, I still didn’t suspect anything more than the usual silly and frustrating wireless internet connection problems we experience (sorry, Verizon), heightened only by the fact that we live in the lee of the mountain.

Then the screen was blinking a white ?

Hmmm, this is new, I thought. 

A big white question mark.

How telling. 

One’s life becomes one big “WTF” when the nether world “?” appears.  (You can’t help but think, am I in a Batman episode?)

I looked up the ? on my Google phone (sorry T-Mobile – you did know everyone would refer to the phone by its Google brand didn’t you…?)

After some Ring Around The Rosy search attempts with Apple, I got a link and phone number for Apple Tech support but it was “after hours” and was directed to call back. 

If one is calling directly for support, I am of the firm belief that it’s rather a critical plea for help and some immediate remedy would best serve the customer…

But don’t get me started on “Customer Service.” 

Is there not a more poignant oxymoron?  Oh wait, we can have fun with this too – e.g. “who put the moron in… “  Never mind, we’ll save that for another, less crisis-plagued episodic blog entry.  

Back to what was then a late night search to find out how to get back online.

Ha!  The riddles imbedded in the La Turandot opera were a snap compared to what I was in for…

But I was still thinking this was readily fixable – a hassle to be certain – but not life threatening.

The link did say to insert the original software disc back into the computer to restore everything. 

I keep all the tech stuff in a basket in the home office such as it is – and go through the basket’s contents once, twice, three times. (at what point does idiocy take precedence over desperation?)

No disc.

It must be at the apartment in Gotham.

At 4 am ish – I kinda call it a “night” and resolve that all will be resolved in the morning, or Apple’s morning – as I’m not paying for the ferry on a Thursday just to get the disc.

I get a great Apple Tech Service Support pro – Jason -- and he walks me through all the steps – several times as he can’t quite grasp why the Mac is not restarting and reloading.

I start my file on this.  Not unlike terminally ill patients who need to carry their files with them, I have learned to have all the instructions and names in one place for easy reference.  Sigh…

He finally capitulates and suggests I take it in to a local Apple store for diagnostics.

After giving him my zip code, he suggests a location in the Bronx or Staten Island ^:^ Not local…

I thank him and start my own search for Apple stores in the Garden State near me. 

Guess what?  Not all Apple stores are created equal. 

Some are not “allowed” to service Apple products… Really?  And that makes sense in what universe?

I finally identify an “approved” Apple store to service the MacBook. 

But it was the day of the new 4G I Phone launch – what are the chances?! (and I can’t win the lottery…) 

The on-site customer service woman tells me they can’t help me… Sheesh.

They are in line for entertainment. I tell her I have a book on the MacBook and NEED serious help.

I beg.  They relent. 

“OK. When you get here, come to the head of the line and tell them you have an appointment at the Genius Bar.”

Which I interpret as more code for I am totally stewed…

It’s also the beginning of the record-breaking heat wave in the east/Tri-State area. 

It’s like a bazzilion degrees and humid and with thunderstorms and hail predicted.

I am convinced it could truly be the end of life as we know it..

And yet, this was the least of my worries.

I am calm beyond belief.  Maybe I am catatonic – or in a nightmare from which I will surely awaken. 

Get me back to my life in the bubble!

Toting the MacBook and a golf umbrella (I’m prepared for sun or hail), I fight for a parking spot at the Freehold Mall.

That is, once I found the Mall – my GPS aka “Ellen” named for my British great grandmother - wouldn’t take a mall “address” -- smart Brit that she is.

So with a printed MapQuest and repeated calls to the store, I got there.

The queue for the phone was the same as all the images on the news – eager first adopters anxious, straining for the must have product. 

In my Sony days, we would have kissed each and every person on the red carpet. 

This day, they were just so much detritus…

The silly “security cop” thought he’d stop me. 

Please.

The store was jam-packed.  A celebrity premiere that I’m sure everyone there will be recounting to his or her friends and family and Facebook friends for ad nauseam…

I made my way back to the Genius Bar and was lucky to get served right away and by a real pro – compassionate too, far as I was concerned.

Rob the Genius ran the diagnostics and said I need to get to seven. 

Craps came to mind.  Baby, please, oh please roll a seven. 

We get to five.

The bar is not moving.  

I am praying. 

“Daddy needs a new pair of shoes.”  Need a seven.

I am afraid to watch. Afraid not to watch.

I find myself quietly telling Rob that I am writing a book and all of the book’s text and images are on the MacBook.

He is sympathetic but I can read his expression that seems to say, “If it was all so god awful important, why didn’t you back it up?”

I am ashamed and embarrassed. 

Without exchanging any words about this, I am already wearing the Scarlet Letter.

I feebly try to explain that I had been backing up till a month or so ago and then things got well, so busy and …

I start to shed more than a few quiet tears.

“Next to my father dying, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me” I hear myself saying…

Rob waits what must seem to him like an appropriate amount of grieving time (I wonder how often has he done this?) and then very politely tells me he has no problem running the diagnostics as long as I want to, but there is nothing more he can do.

Am I still dreaming I wonder…

No!

He suggests he put in a new hard drive, pack up the existing, two-timing disc and take the MacBook and the two hard drives to the Data Doctors.

What can I do? 

I have to go out of the store to get any reception (Steve Jobs, I feel your pain..) and talk to there.  After a few phone calls with me and Data Doctors and halted calls with Jim from  Data Doctors and Rob from Apple Genius Bar, I head out to what I consider the Emergency Room.

I have no idea where I am and where I’m going but follow the phone directions from the techies and after pulling over to use the Google phone GPS, I find I am, in fact, in front of the entrance to the strip mall where Data Doctors is located.

…Blessed day as I am just about out of battery on the phone and it is my only lifeline.

Upon arriving at Data Doctors, I am resolute.

No one but a technician in the store. 

I determinedly take my duct-taped plug for the Google phone (hey, duct tape got the astronauts back from space) and plugged it into an outlet on the far wall.

Immediately, the entire Data Doctors came to a halt.

I am not joking.  There was suddenly an eerie silence and darkness in the store.

Nothing.  Nada.

The technician there at the computer screen  (turns out is was Jim) asked, “What did you do?”

“Ummm. I tried to plug in my phone, “ I oblige.

“This can’t be happening” the bubble over my head is reading.  “This tech center is my lifeline and I just brought it to its knees”

What karma is this?

OK, Jim is so kind.  Not unlike the absent-minded professor, he puts his eyeglasses back on from where he’d pulled them off to rest on their chain around his neck in order better get a bead on me. 

After perusing me and determining I am not here for sabotage, he says he will be right with me once he gets everything back up and running…

We bonded.

I feel safe again. 

They will help me.  I must believe…

My husband calls for the first time since the early morning status and I tell him of the dire circumstances.  Even he can’t believe it.

I start to quietly cry again.

In the other world that is now my seeming reality, I hear Jim whispering into the Data Doctor phone, “Yes, she’s here. She’s over by the window on the phone. Crying.” 

Oh, he’s talking about me, I think.

“Gotta go, Bill. And oh, can you find me a place where to buy a new plug for the Google er T-Mobile phone.”

(I wasn’t going to mess with the tech or brand gods now. Call a spade a spade, I say.

T-Mobile knows I am a loyal-Capricorn customer for eons)

Taking the phone from Jim, this is my first encounter with the Blessed Mother or at the very least, an angel, aka Kelly – my customer service account contact.

And I mean this in the truest sense.

Not unlike a good old-fashioned hospital RN, she is authoritative and compassionate.

She could also be the soothing voice of HAL in “2001 Space Odyssey.”

I am hers.

She explains how Data Doctors is entrusted by the United States government, corporations and businesses around the world to recreate or capture data from corrupt or damaged hard drives.

She really did have me at hello.

Time is of the essence as I am on deadline for the Long Island Homegrown cookbook about the area’s master chefs and their inspired gardens, farms, and other local farm to table sources.

I had just completed all the first drafts of the Master Chefs and a number of the finished profile texts to send to my editor. Another angel, Kari..

As a writer, one does not have a formula.

There are those inspired moments that allow me to honor my chefs and write their profiles to capture the essence of their personality and culinary art. 

I can’t recreate the profiles despite being intimate with each and every word…

Kelly, my new best friend and Angel was now outlining and describing the sliding price scale for their miracle tech services.

My “can-do” no-holds barred spirit was kicking in to say, “Whatever it takes” when a higher power reined me in.

I heard Kelly say, “and overnight or within three days, the cost is anywhere from $5,500 to more than $9,000….” 

I don’t have that kind of money to make that kind of miracle happen so I was grateful I kept listening and didn’t shout out, “Overnight repair.”

I had to balance the need- the overwhelming need and desire --to get this horror over with and fixed so that I’d wake up from the nightmare with the available funds to make this right.

I opted for the two-week lowest cost option…

I am now assigned a case number.

A kidney scheduled for transplant surgery couldn’t have been more carefully prepared and wrapped.

We called Fed Ex – I splurged on the overnight delivery costs to get it to the Data Doctors center in Arizona.  I would’ve guessed the destination as Silicon Valley or Austin but Arizona it is…

All is complete.  I chat with Jim who in a twist of karma turns out to have been a chef in a number of New York City restaurants, including Bouley’s where I did volunteer kitchen prep after the attacks… 

When I tell him what the book – the book that is lying comatose on the hard drive that is packed up for its emergency rush to the Doctors – he is even more sympathetic and we bond over restaurant kitchens and food stories.

That has to be good luck, right?  How many chefs end up at Data Doctors?  Maybe he is a geekie angel too who traded in his toque for tech…

Armed with the FedEx tracking number, I promise to phone him tomorrow to make certain the drive was picked up.  Kelly will call when it arrives there in the Grand Canyon state.

All were asked to pray.  I did share my predicament and Scarlet Letter on Facebook and felt a teeny bit better that it has happened to others. 

I implored my tech, consumer electronics Friends in the industry -- Why can’t they invent or develop an early-warning signal like a gas gauge that tells you when you are getting low on fuel. 

There must be early degradations that could trigger a sign on the computer. 

Just think of the business opportunities, not to mention preventing the heartbreak – or suicide ^:^ of creators everywhere.

Think about it, engineers.  There must be an App for That!

My Facebook Friends also recommended the automatic back up – with automatic being the magical, operative element. Paraphrasing Wallis Simpson, the Duchess of Windsor’s adage (Duchess to Duchess: how’s that for a link to karma?!), my sister admonished that “you can never be too rich or too thin or back up enough.” 

Words to live by.

So Friday, June 25^th was Day One of the vigil: The prayers, the waiting for the updates from Data Doctors’ Kelly.

At the same time, I had to focus on moving forward – to complete the chef profiles from the outline texts I did still have. And think about recreating all dozen of the new ones for the Long Island book…

Essentially, the method I have found that works best for me in writing the profiles is to either do the interview in-person or over the phone. Either way, I record the interview.

I explain to the chefs that my handwriting is so bad that I need the back up of the recording and also, there is a lot of nuance in conversation that comes through better “live.” 

That is Step 1.

I then write up the profile from my notes as Step 2. 

Fill in or add from the recording as Step 3.

I put the profile into chronological order and an understandable narrative. 

I have learned more often than not, the chefs’ stories are unknown to them, or they jump around in telling of their training, their leadership and the expression of their art. 

It undoubtedly makes for a fascinating discovery and I have learned so very much from them about the early days of the locavore movement and their role in doggedly bringing fresh homegrown food to their customers and to their part of the world; impacting the world of restaurants irrevocably – and for the good of all of us. 

In terms of taste – and better health.

Finally, I write the profile.

I write what I hope is a profile that honors the incredible work of the chefs and their inspired gardens and/or farmers and fishermen and dairymen, vintners, and artisanal food makers.

And I write a profile that I hope will compel the reader to turn the page to find out more – to learn about the chef and what made him or her fight so hard to get fresh-picked, local food to the plate vs. picking up the phone and ordering common, and rather tasteless ingredients when that was – and is in many, if not most cases, the norm. 

They are all master chefs and fascinating culinary artists.

And interesting personalities who have overcome a lot of hurdles to follow their dreams. 

Curiously, and somewhat surprising to me initially, all find time to give back – to volunteer for some charity or cause that celebrates teaching children to garden and cook, to fight childhood obesity or preserve the environment, work to improve business development for the towns, their farmers and their way of life by organizing Farmers Markets, cooking classes, tourism. 

I was gobsmacked by their vision and for eking out the time to impact their slice of the world and changing us all in the meantime.

Each profile is utterly unique and writing it is akin to what I imagine giving birth must be like…

Losing those profiles is not an option. 

And we are on deadline.

I let my editor Kari know of the situation.  She is wonderful and understanding and encouraging.  Just what I needed. She lays out the schedule for me with drop-dead dates. 

The first Angel Kelly report was encouraging. 

In her smooth as silk voice, she reassuringly walked me through the process. 

I get like every third word and honestly, the only thing that registers every call is the “So, it’s looking good.” 

However, there are lots of steps: reviewing the hard drive, finding a hairline crack in it, sending out for materials to fix it, rebuilding the data…

Like Gunga Din, I end each update call with a litany of prostrating “thank you’s” to her and a special appeal to “please thank the team.” I want them to know how very grateful I am and how much my life is in their hands…

I am haunted by that big blinking ?

I will keep you updated on our progress.  Please say a prayer for the book and the hard drive?

Thank you.

Anna Pump Profile for the Homegrown Book

Yesterday, I completed the first part of the profile for chef and cookbook author, Anna Pump.

http://www.annapump.com

What an elegant and generous professional she is!
She is famous for her bakery, Loaves and Fishes - and with her daughter, The Bridgehampton Inn.
Her three best selling cookbooks, have inspired legions of cooks from my garden design client, Maria Steinberg (who loves her and has all her cookbooks in her cookbook "library.") to Ina Garten, The Barefoot Contessa and Food Network TV host.

I thoroughly enjoyed learning of Anna's childhood in Germany, near the Danish border; growing up on the farm, her early years in the Hamptons and taking classes with James Beard.

She is a classic!

Master Chef Profiles and Photography & Food Update

Completed writing profile for Chef Matt Connors.  I have a sense that his “charmed life” implies a steadfast commitment to his culinary craft and the pursuit of excellence. You can check out his creative genius and his wife Annie’s warm hospitality at The Lake House in Bayshore, Long Island.  You can drive or hop on the train to arrive at this magical, idyllic setting, complete with swans gliding by as you dine on the porch.

http://tinyurl.com/2de43ww

I am writing the profile for Chef Bryan Naylor of Ono Restaurant at The South Hampton Inn.  What an adventuresome food life he’s experienced! Aim to complete his exciting gastronomic saga today.

Am also busy planning the summer photo shoots to the restaurants when we will photograph the chefs in their kitchen preparing one of the four recipes they’ll provide for the book.  We also photograph them in their inspired garden – whether the garden is at the restaurant or their home or one of their farms…


This is also when I take my photographs and sketch their gardens for what will become a water color rendering of the garden for the book.


I like the garden as art element - and the link to the culinary art.  
Gardens inspire artists of every kind - but I started with the culinary artist, naturally, as they use the bounty of the garden in their artist pursuits.

I was planning to share the photography schedule with photographer Jennifer Calais Smith and Food Stylist, Patty White.  
And like a garden sprite, I got a text from Patty late last night asking to meet next week for lunch.  I haven't spoken to Patty in a bit so she must have food and garden karma waving about her, beckoning us back to Long Island and the Hamptons!

I have grouped the restaurants by area such as The North Fork, East End, South Shore, and while I’ve been advised by local expert, Peter Garnham (thank you, again, darling) that there is technically no such place that is “the Hamptons”  -- the rest of the world doesn’t know this ^:^ and so I will continue to refer to East Hampton and South Hampton, etc. as 
“The Hamptons.”  Why it’s practically a brand name!

Need to get in touch with Ina Garten, The Barefoot Contessa….