The Porcini We Never Found (Or, How You Find Them Anyway, Years Later, at Your Own Table)
My husband and I spent a whole day hunting porcini in the Italian Alps. And came home with nothing. Even the children filled their baskets. The dinner that followed still shapes our autumn table on Maui, and every October we bring pappardelle ai porcini back to Sale Pepe.
Too Special (Or, What You Do When Someone You Love Keeps His Best Work To Himself)
My husband thinks that some things are too special for restaurant service. I think that is exactly why people should get to eat them. On Monday, the argument started again. This time over two trays of focaccia.
What Maui Looks Like Right Before You Leave It
Before the emails start and the days accelerate and the restaurant pulls me back into its orbit, I step outside on to the lanai. The pool mirrors the blue above it. The trade winds play on my skin like a whisper. I sit at my table and try to take it all in, the way of chewing slowly when you know the meal is almost over. These are the last mornings. And they alone make it hard to leave.