Foodista Blog » Travel

Bella Siena

Sheri Wetherell — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 23:37:43 +0000

I poured my morning cup of coffee, grabbed my stack of food magazines, and went to sit in my Springy sun-filled (finally) sun room. Before I could put my coffee down, my May 2009 issue of La Cucina Italiana slipped off the top of the pile and landed wide open to a beautiful spread of Il Palio in Siena, Italy. My heart leapt. Siena is the beautiful town where I spent the best six months of my life. And Il Palio is the glorious horse race that has occurred twice each summer for more than 350 years in the Piazza del Campo. Il Palio is a dangerous race where jockeys ride bareback, where 90 degree corners must be turned, and where horse – not man – is winner. In fact, a horse can win even if the rider falls off.

Unfortunately, I’ve never been to either race because at the time I felt sunning myself in in the Greek isles was more fun (it was fun, but I should have scheduled in at least one race). Seeing the pictures of Siena and the Piazza del Campo brought back so many memories of friendship, food, love, and even politics:

The fountain where darling Daniele professed his love me, only to have me turn him down. Poor guy. I was gentle, though.
The corner of the square where my girlfriends and I, sitting on our coats studying, were trampled by a swarm of journalists. At the center of the swarm was the Soviet dissident Andrei Sakharov. Coats and homework were trampled, but at least we had an interesting excuse to give our professor!
The little café where we’d sip aqua minerale con gas (sparkling water) and nibble on the free bread sticks.
Long laughs over wine or sangria at Bar Centrale or Re Artu.

The article also reminded me of the wonderful meals our friend Claudio would make us. Many of which I still cook to this day: Penne con Panna e Salciccia (penne with cream and sausage). He taught us the delectability of pasta drizzled simply with garlic infused olive oil, which seemed to be our standard meal at the end of the month when the money ran out. He also taught us that we were using far too little salt in our pasta water, and that, no, not all pasta is the same.

Best of all, the article reminded me of the times I’d sit in the Piazzo del Campo thinking of all the laughs, the professed loves, the glasses of wine sipped, and friendships that had formed over the centuries in that same little spot where I sat.

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Smoked Pork Chops in Cuba

Sheri Wetherell — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 00:42:28 +0000

Photo: WordRidden

In 2002 Barnaby and I flew to Mexico City, then hopped another plane bound for the beautiful land of Cuba. (Knock, knock, knock. Excuse me, I think that must be the Department of Treasury at my door). Barnaby was there legally as part of the Havana Film Festival. I, on the other hand, was the renegade American. I smiled a big I’m-so-happy-to-be-here grin at the Customs agent who looked at my passport and handed it back to me unstamped. “Welcome to Cuba,” he said, sporting an even bigger grin.

I felt naughty being there. And I liked it.

Havana is like a beautiful aging actress whose lipstick bleeds and foundation is cakey. You see signs of her former glory, her sexiness, her mystique, but the luster has left long ago. All she needs is a face lift and a good shot of Botox.

On our first night venturing out for food we were approached by a jinetero, which literally translates to “jockey” but more loosely to hustler, who escorted us to a paladar. Paladares are small, unadvertised family owned and operated restaurants. In exchange for high taxes the government allows families to operate these restaurants, but they must seat no more than 12 people at a time and serve only local food: pork, seafood (if you’re lucky) black beans and rice (Moors and Christians) and simple salads. The nice thing about paladares is you get good quality home-cooked food while experiencing Cuban culture.

Being unadvertised we didn’t mind the aid of the jinetero. In fact, each night we welcomed the help of jineteros. Being fluent in Spanish it was easy for Barnaby to ask about the paladar to which we were being taken. One such place specialized in smoked pork chops. We’d had a lot of pork so we welcomed the new cooking method and told the jinetero we’d love to go. His friend ran ahead to tell owners we were coming. Apparently not many Americans visited this mostly locals only place so I’m sure the finder’s fee was good.

Down one quaint run-down street after another we went until we found ourselves in front of a once grand old home. We rang the bell and the door opened. Up the narrow staircase we climbed to another gated door. We were greeted cheerfully by a flamboyant transvestite who owned the “not so legal” paladar with his lover. We invited our two new jinetero friends to join us for lunch and the four of us embarked on the meal of a lifetime. For us, sitting in an unknown, impossible to find gem of a restaurant in a forbidden country; for them, eating a meal they couldn’t afford.

The lovers gave us a tour of their sparkling kitchen that was part cooking lesson, part La Cage aux Folles. I loved it. They brought out heaps of flavorful beans and rice, salad, ice cold beers, and the pièce de résistance: their smoked pork chops. To this day I have yet to have a more succulent, tender and juicy piece of smoked pork. Delicious ones indeed I have found at Latino markets in the U.S., but none that quite compare. They were that good.

They were embargo-ending good.

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Sooke Harbour House

Sheri Wetherell — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 18:07:39 +0000

After seeing Sooke Harbour House featured on Anthony Bourdain’s: No reservations, Barnaby and I looked at each other and said, “We have got to go there.” We love food and we love travel, so we took a culinary adventure up to Sooke Harbour on Vancouver Island to check out this famous restaurant and hotel.

Sooke Harbour House is nested on the edge of the stunningly gorgeous Whiffen Spit Beach. Its white building is surrounded by nature’s art (gardens, sculptures, stone pathways) and filled with gallery art (seals carved from beach wood, paintings, more sculptures).

The restaurant is simple and comfortable, like the family beach house – albeit a very nice beach house – and has been rated “Best Restaurant in the World for Authentic, Local Cuisine” by Gourmet Magazine. Chef Edward Tuson, who has been the chef for the last 12 years, is exceptionally creative and innovative. Their menu changes daily according to what is fresh and available. In fact, the focus of their menu is on seasonal, regional (only from the Southwestern coast of the island), and organic ingredients. Even the seafood is plucked from the waters of their beautiful backyard. One would have to be a master to recreate the wheel as he does each day.

Our waiter and sommelier, Vincent, spoke with a charming Québécois lilt and looked like the younger brother of Javier Bardem. Kind, knowledgeable and unpretentious, he’s just the type of server you want. After all, it’s not just the food that makes a restaurant great, it’s the whole package: ambiance, views, service, decor, and of course, cuisine. This place has it all, which is why I now rate it in my top 10 favorite restaurants.

I chose the following selections from their roughly $75 Canadian (excluding tax and beverages) prix fixe menu:

Creamy Celery Root Soup with clams, summer vegetables and sundried tomato oil (shown),
Grilled Spot Shrimp with chilled gazpacho, zucchini, corn salad, brioche toasts and chive sour cream,
Herb Roasted Lamb Leg with nectarine, oxeye daisy salsa on potato corn cakes with braised fennel and purple cabbage.

For dessert I selected the “Three Garden Inspired Sorbets.” This made me sing like a siren. Green apple rosemary, blackberry fennel seed, and apricot fruit sage. The plate was adorned with a few unusual looking deep red berries the shape and size of the tip of a child’s pinky. Vincent told me they were fuschia berries. Fuschia berries! I had never heard nor seen anything like it, but come next summer I’ll be watching the fuschia tree in my yard like a hawk for these sweet, delicious berries.

I long to return to Sooke Harbour House. But next time we’ll book a room so we can waddle back from the restaurant. Did I mention there was a spa, too? Oh yes, I’ll be there as well. Perhaps I can also join the kitchen foragers as they search the beaches and waters for the night’s meal.

Another thing I’ll do when I return is kiss the chef for making us beautifully delicious food as nature intended.

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A San Francisco Treat

Sheri Wetherell — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 04:22:34 +0000

I’m not talking Rice-A-Roni here, the San Francisco treat I’m referring to is IT’S-IT Ice Cream. When I was a kid we’d often pass the IT’S-IT factory perched on the edge of Highway 101 near the San Francisco airport. I would beg my parents to stop, but alas, it never happened. I still threaten to stop…perhaps some things are best left as a mystery. So, to satiate my desires I hop into the nearest Draeger’s and pick up a box.

The Original IT’S-IT Ice Cream Treat, once named the official food of San Francisco, started in 1928 and has since become a legend. The recipe has never changed; a scoop of vanilla ice cream sandwiched between two oatmeal cookies then dunked in dark chocolate.

I don’t care how old you are, you’re never too old to beg for one of these.

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Tamarind Candied Apples

Sheri Wetherell — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 03:24:00 +0000

When you land at the airport in Obregón, Mexico, as we did on our way back from Puerto Vallarta, you can buy candied apples for $2 a piece. And here’s the best part – the Mexican Immigration and Customs officials are the ones selling them! Like Girl Scouts selling cookies they have them sitting right there on the desk in a cardboard box. A dozen or so beautiful tamarind candied apples wrapped in cellophane and tied with little ribbons. I’d love to know how the wife suckered her Customs Official-husband into selling her apples to tourists. “Gustavo, just a few, por favor. They’ll love them, just you wait.” And we did. On the way down we bought one and the way back we bought five. How do you like them apples?

After tasting the tamarind apple I will no longer be able to eat a regular old caramel apple (when was the last time I had one anyway I cannot tell you). It was unlike anything we had ever eaten. Crisp Granny Smith apples were wrapped in a paste made of tamarind (a sweet and sour fruit pulp), chili powder, sugar and salt. The result is a perfect balance of sweet, sour, salty and spicy.

Wouldn’t it be nice if our Customs officials sold sweet little treats to tourists…apple by apple we could whittle away at the national debt!

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