I immediately had dinner-invite-regret.

I wanted to cancel the whole thing. In fact, in the 2 weeks before the meal, I wanted to cancel the event at least 3 times.

Plant-based meals (as vegans like to call vegan meals) are not my natural habitat.

My natural habit is the “everything in moderation” zone. I believe diversity in food as it is in life. Yogurt and cheese and pork and chicken and the occasional burger are a part of my world. As is a lot of fruit and vegetables and olive oil. I’m down with the whole Mediterrean diet thing. And cookies.

I am deeply suspicious of processed foods. And foods that include a lot of substitutes for the “real thing” (I’m looking at you Splenda and Impossible Burger.).

I rebel against food regimes that come with a lot of constraints, like “you can’t eat this” or “that”.

Railing against constraints is a bit ironic. I teach creative thinking at a University. And in the creative thinking world, we teach constraints are the foundation of new ideas. Still. The constraints of the vegan lifestyle are not palatable to me.

And yet, here I am, hosting a ladies’ vegan potluck.And everyone is happy. Take a look:

My friend Marla Felcher inspired this meal.

Marla is fun-loving and smart and a great party giver. She thinks different, as Steve Jobs once so famously said. I adore her.

Marla adores Becca, her dog. And all animals. Deeply. She cares about the environment. She knows a lot about how industrial farming hurts animals and the planet.

And, unlike so many of us (I am raising my hand here), Marla doesn’t just talk the talk. She walks the walk. She takes actions to support her values. In this case, actions that support animals and our planet. Very creative actions.

Her most recent and very creative action: creating 1 Million Tables for the Planet.

The idea is simple and effective: encourage 1 million people around the world to enjoy one plant-based meal with friends. At home or out. That’s it! Register the table. The website shows how many people have signed up and how the meals benefit the planet.

Marla and her friend Deb launched the initiative on April 1. To honor Earth Day. In less than two weeks, people from around the world have registered 2177 tables.

So I did it too.

My friends and I gathered around my vegan-for-the-night table.

I cooked a favorite recipe from Hetty McKinnon’s roasted tomato and dumplings. I followed the recipe but added gochujang to the tomatoes to give it more depth of flavor:

To Vegetables, With Love

Roasted tomato and dumpling salad

Welcome to To Vegetables, With Love, a celebration of a vegetable life, less ordinary. ‘ Find archived recipes on my recipe index…

Read more

a year ago · 62 likes · 6 comments · Hetty Lui McKinnon

It is simple and easy to make, pretty light and very addictive.

My friends brought a delicious roasted cauliflower, a quinoa salad, a pasta salad and lots and lots of hummus.

We had one semi-fail – a hummus garden that fell over and became a hummus-garden-mish-mosh.

And some roasted radisches that were a noble experiment, very pretty, and just weird tasting.

But these failures were good failures! As we teach in our class, you can’t try new things and expect success all the time. Failures are necessary in experiments and for growth.

Here’s what surprised me!

It didn’t feel like a vegan meal. It wasn’t a do-gooder event. It was not preachy. It was just the six of us, around a table, gossiping, laughing, drinking wine, sharing stories about our most memorable meals.

And, all the while, we were taking one small step to help our planet. According to Marla’s algorithm, we saved 8.0 kg of greenhouse gasses and 572 liters of water.

Have I convinced you to take an action?

Go ahead - give it a go! Register your table here: 1 million tables.

Enjoy.

What do you think of this initiative? This experience? Willing to give it a go? Or not. Please share your thoughts and stories.

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I got that sinking feeling in my stomach.

Was it really a restaurant, I wondered at that point, or a front for something more unsavory?

Was this was going to be one of those failures associated with any step into the unknown?

And then we walked in….

Three small rooms. Fake grapes dangling from a funky ceiling. A squirrel saying hello from the vines.

Mismatched plates and silverware.

Artwork and objets d’art had a thrift store vibe, maybe one step above bordello or one step shy of kitchsy. A definite“my abuela decorated these room day by day over the past 50 years” feel. Very home-made, low-key and personal.

We were hooked.

Then we met Elvis.

Elvis Sanchez. The manager.

(I know! Only in Miami, am I right?)

He greeted us and told us our table would be a 15 minute wait.

Elvis shared that a family of ten in the backroom was lingering over their meal. Each family member was wearing Easter bunny ears and just so happy to be with one another. They were slowing the whole place down, he said.

Then he explained that he ran the restaurant. His sister and her husband, a chef from Paris, owned it. The sister had been in LA chasing an acting career. She met her Parisian chef husband while working at a restaurant to support herself. (Now that’s a Hollywood story!) Her parents back in Miami got sick. They returned to Miami to care for the parents and opened La Fresa Francesa.

Somewhere in that story-telling, I stopped feeling like a customer anxiously waiting for a table and started to feel like part of the family.

The food is French with a hint of Cuba.

We hit La Fresa Francesa about 2:30 PM. It was a transition moment between the brunch and dinner menus. We went for both.

Like the French, we started with apertifs. The drinks were light and refreshing, with just a hint of alcohol. Not too sweet. Not too acidic. Just an opening to the meal, giving us a moment to discuss the menu and relax in the seats.

I ordered La Pompette Limonade, homemade lemonade mixed with Lillet Blanc, macerated strawberries and a splash of sparkling wine.

It was served in what appeared to be beer mug. With a straw. Light, refreshing and large enough to savor the entire meal.

The Bellini was made with guava juice instead of the more traditional peach puree, in honor of the Cuban neighborhood. The classic Lillet Blanc was served over ice with a slice of orange on top.

And then the food arrived.

The escargots. Perfectly, unapologetically French. Out of the shell and swimming in garlic, butter parsley sauce. The thinly sliced baguette was perfect for dunking into those little indents holding the butter sauce; the lettuce had a hint of garlic.

The Steak Frites. Classically prepared steakiness. Prepared, as someone said, with “NASA-like” precision. And it comes with a LOT of crispy fries.

The mussels. I was hoping for the blue cheese sauce but mine was filled with roasted tomatoes. The mussels were small and tender. And again, a LOT of crispy fries.

Banannas foster crepes. Come on! The thick cut media noche bread (a soft slightly sweet and egg rich Cuban bread similar to brioche or challah) was soaked in a traditional custard and topped with caramelized bananas. Let’s just call it abundant.

After the meal, I ordered a very civilized coffee cortado for dessert but immediately had coffee envy as the more traditionally Cuban Café Bombas started arriving. Sweetened condensed milk, covered by a rich espresso.

OMG goodness.

For dessert, one of us ordered the crème brulee. I can’t speak to it as the orderer doesn’t share but judging by his face, it was a success.

The Bottom Line:

$354 for 5 people ($71/person)

The other Bottom Line:

We sat and ate and drank and talked for nearly four hours. Yes, the service is a tad slow. But more than that, the well-worn atmosphere, the warm and personal service, the simply elegant French food with those Cuban twists invites you to stay. To talk. To relax and laugh.

And that’s the true bottom line.

La Fresa Francesa
59 W 3rd St
Hialeah, FL 33010
786-717-6886
Menu: lafresafrancesa.com

Let me know what you think. And please share any favorite hidden gems you’ve experienced.

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Steak houses, on the other hand, are not my thing. If you say steak house, I think white table clothes, wood-paneled walls, private and smelly cigar rooms. Pretension personified. The kind of place where corporate expense accounts rule.

Sunny’s Steakhouse Miami is different!

It combines subtlety with hip-and-happening,

It’s tucked into a quiet, dark street in a quiet, dark corner of Little River. No sign. Just a dark door. Very speak-easy.

And there’s parking, a rarity in the Miami restaurant world. A customer lot adjoins the restaurant and accommodates most diners most of the time. No endless driving around, looking for a spot, as is “de rigeur” for so many of Miami’s popular spots.

Walk in, and the welcoming hostess or host greets you like you are arriving at a private party.

The place opens its arms to so many different groups of people. You’ll see families with kids, girl-friend dinners, special date nights and tech-bros ordering those $1000 bottles of wine.

(And no worries: There’s a perfect great $10 happy hour cab franc!)

The vibe is fun, modern, friendly, a little irreverent.

And mostly open-air. It’s built around a huge banyon tree covered in twinkle lights.

Even the inside part of the restaurant is open to the outside. And lined with mirrors and palm trees. The whole place happily glitters.

The cooking is serious. And creative.

You can put together a generous meal for the table, with items that appeal to everyone (even the vegetarians and vegans, bless their hearts). Its whole ethos is gathering around the table and passing the plates around.

The steak at Sunny’s isn’t just a menu category—it’s the center of gravity.

There are 7 steak options, but the 16 ounce waygu NY Strip steak exemplifies what Sunny’s is going for.

Yes, it’s expensive ($148) but shareable and worth the money.

The cut is classic steakhouse – a balance of tender and chewy with that signature fat cap. The typically American or Australian wagyu has rich marbling and a steak-like structure….not melt-away butter.

The preparation is perfection.

It’s cooked over a very hot live oak wood fire, which brings a subtle-but-definitely-there smokiness and caramelized crust. The heat creates the hard sear and deep crust; the oak wood burns clean, with a particular aromatic smoke that is neither heavy or ashy.

And then there’s the in-house dry aging that concentrates the beef flavor and slight nuttiness or funk.

Overwhelmed by the menu? Here’s an order strategy for you:

• Wagyu NY strip (centerpiece)

• Parker House rolls + honey butter (non-negotiable)

• French Fries (cuz, common on! Steak and fries is like bread and butter, horse and carriage, Jack and Jill, you get the picture.)

• Any salad or veggie. I love the gem salad. It’s special.

• At least one sauce. Or maybe all of them. There’s bone marrow vinaigrette, pineapple hot sauce, classic bearnaise, potato butter, perigourdine (a rich. French sauce of stock, a little wine, shallots and black trufflese) and salsa verde. They all have a light, acidic balance to the steak.

The Reservation Scene

It’s admittedly hard. But the bar is walk-in only and is the only place you can get what is widely known as the best burger in town. $29, including the fries.

And it’s always worth a try. I walked in with a friend without a reservation on a random Monday night and we got a great table. Another night, there were last minute reservations available. It’s always worth a try.

If you give it a go:

Sit back, settle in, and let the table do its thing.

Pass the plates, share the fries, sip the wine.

Somewhere along the way—between the first cut into the perfectly seared steak and the last swipe through a sauce you didn’t know you needed—you realize this isn’t really about steak at all.

It’s about how good food, when it’s handled with care, creativity, and just the right amount of irreverence, shifts the energy at the table. It loosens things. It pulls people in. It makes the night feel a little more generous, a little more alive.

In a city where so many restaurants are more about flash and sizzle, Sunny’s makes you forget about the scene. Instead, you focus on your friends, your conversation, and how good it feels to be there.

And that’s a win.

The Bill for 4: $293.78 (pre-tip):

• 2 orders Parker House rolls
  1 gem salad
  2 orders hanger steaks
  1 creamed spinach

  1 bernaise sauce
  1 peppercorn sauce
  1 tomato salad
  1 Miller lite
  1 Tangueray
  3 glasses wine
  1 cheese cake (yum)

Sunny’s Miami
7357 NW Miami Court
Miami, FL 33150
Email: hello@sunnysmmia.com

Talk to me! I love hearing from you!

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Neither did that perfumed, “taste of summer” peach, the kind that drips down your wrist and makes you think “OMG!”

Great fruits and vegetables start long before they reach your plate. They start in healthy soil, clean air, a delicate balance of spring rain and summer heat.

In other words, great fruits and vegetables start with a healthy planet.

It’s what Earth Day—April 22—is about. Earth Day started in 1970. Then US Senator Gaylord Nelson wanted to promote more environmental awareness after a massive California oil spill. He and his colleagues organized an Earth Day event on college campuses.

On Earth Day 1970, 20 million people stood up to celebrate a healthier planet. Earth Day’s success lead to the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA).

Flash forward to 2026. Our environment needs more care than ever. And here is your chance to do one small thing for the earth and the soil and the sun and all the glorious food it produces.

Here’s how you can stand up for a healthy earth in 2026.

Follow the lead of my friend Marla Felcher. She co-founded 1 Million Tables for the Planet around a simple, global idea: Gather around a table and share one plant-based meal. Because plant-based meals are environmentally-friendly.

Marla and her colleague Deb are hoping to get 1 million people around the world to sign up to celebrate earth day by eating one vegan meal in the month of April. One vegan meal! Even I can do that.

As Marla says:

There’s no better way to connect than around food. In a world that feels increasingly disconnected, gathering at a table reminds us what truly matters: each other.

Food plays a powerful role in climate change. When we choose some foods over others, we’re casting a vote for the planet.

A potluck. A simple dinner. A restaurant meal. However you gather, it counts.

I’m not a vegan—you probably guessed that from my pork-in-milk recipe—and I never will be. I’m an everything-in-moderation person.

But this? This feels different. It’s one meal. No judgment. No pressure. Just a table, good food, good friends, and a small, collective way to nudge our planet in a better direction.

And honestly, I’m curious about it. What happens when you lean into vegetables—not as a side, not as a compromise—but as the main event? What new flavors show up in a vegan meal? What conversations?

If enough of us do it, it adds up. Not just environmentally, but socially. It becomes something shared.

So this Earth Day, I’m in.

Curious? Join me in nudging the earth in a heathy direction.

Host a table. Cook a meal. Just quietly try one fully plant-based dinner and see what happens.

Register your table here: 1Million Tables so we can all see how big of an impact we are making.

Looking for a plant-based recipe? (I still can’t use the word “vegan”:)

Try this easy, fast and delicious tomato and dumpling recipe. I love it! I adopted it from the ever-amazing Hetty Liu McKinnon. (Full disclosure: when not celebrating Earth Day, I use pork dumplings, not the vegetable ones. Both are delicious.)

Let me know if you are going to take an action for the planet this Earth Day. It will be good for you. And the food you eat!

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It’s a constant buzz. And it’s intoxicating.

And yet, even the most urban among us yearns for something a little simpler. Slower. Greener. Quieter. Rooted.

That yearning led my friend Meriden and I to get in the car, drive 15 minutes past the airport, another 15 minutes through big-box-store land, and then — a snap of the fingers later — to long vistas of green farmland and funky hand painted signs leading us to wooden farm stands. It’s Homestead, a rural, subtropical agricultural enclave that sits in the same congressional district as all those glossy hotels and hard-to-get restaurant reservations,

It’s a little piece of heaven.

Here’s the cool thing. It’s not just in Miami. Every US city is within an hour of a farm.

The USDA has been tracking this for years: farming doesn’t just live in far-away places. It lives right up against metro life — in the borderland where the suburbs end and the soil begins.

Yes, getting to farms and farm stands can be a hassle. Yes, you have to get in the car, drive a minute, deal with traffic and time. And you may think, “Why bother? There’s a Whole Foods (or Trader Joe’s or Publix or Costco, or whatever) so close by.”

Here’s the answer. A visit is a respite from city life. It’s a quieter space where the air smells less recycled and the vistas are vast.

And the food - the food - is fresh and alive and straight from the source — often picked that morning.

Think lettuce – we found so many kinds of lettuce – romaine and arugula and sorrel and butterhead. The list goes on. Each lettuce has its own taste. Sorrel tastes like lemon – who knew. And the arugula had a healthy bitter bite.

If you live in a US City, do a quick search and get out into those farmlands when you can. And yes, winter has its own version of farm joy — storage apples, local cheese, smoked fish, pickles, maple syrup season around the corner.

Here’s a Miami farm tour guide that will get you home by lunch.

Seriously, if you leave by 9 on Saturday morning, you’ll be home to make lunch from all the yummy fresh food you buy.

Up first: Knaus Berry Farm

Knaus Berry Farm is legend. And it deserves to be. It’s the cinnamon rolls.

Honestly, it’s worth it to travel from wherever you are to Miami, just to experience those cinnamon rolls. I’m going to try to put in words what these rolls are like, but know it’s only a pathetic stab at describing the best pastry in the world.

They are 4” square. Hand-rolled into the typical snail shape. Served out of the oven warm. Gooey, yeasty, dripping with buttery cinnamon goodness. Not too sweet, mind you. And no fussy raisons or nuts. Just a super sticky bun, baked to caramelized perfection.

$2. each, but buy a dozen ($17.40) and keep them in the freezer. Trust me.

And PS: The new Knaus Berry (opened this year in a new location) is not as down-home and funky as the old Knaus Berry, but, at least the time I was there, the line was non-existent. We got a coffee, sat on a bench and took a quick trip to heaven.

Go to Borek farm for tomatoes and fresh greens.

Knaus Berry is about indulgence. Borek Farms is about the land, the soil, the heritage. Michael Borek is a 3^rd generation family farmer. He became known for growing tomatoes. Those tomatoes caught the attention of famous Miami chefs and he has grown - right into lettuces. All manner of crisp, tasty greens.

This place is simpler, less well known outside of restaurant circles, but definitely worth a visit.

Robert is Here Fruit Stand is irresistible.

Another legend in its own time, Robert is Here has more fruits than I knew existed in the world – as well as a collection of rescued animals, including goats and tortoises and emus.

The exotic fruit selection blew me away. Beyond the typical mangoes and passion fruits there s stuff like guanabana (sour sop), sapodilla, tamarind, black sapote, cacao pods, you name it, they’ve got it.

And the emu eggs, which are the size of a small planet and great for baking, i’m told.

They are also famous for their milkshakes.

And then there’s this!

A nice lady at Borek Farm gave us her recipe for not-fried, not green Fried Green Tomatoes. So simple! So delicious!

Bottom Line:

Miami will always be sexy and enticing. But sometimes the most restorative thing you can do for your body, your soul and your palate is drive toward the dirt.

The route:

Knaus Berry
16790 SW 177th Ave
Miami FL
Open Tuesday - Sunday, 8AM - 5PM

Robert is Here
19200 SW 344th St
Homestead, FL 33034
Open everyday, 9AM - 6PM

Michael Burek Farm
19101 SW 147 Ave
Miami FL 33187
Open Saturday, 12 - 4

Want more farm tours? Here’s the skinny on a Martha’s Vineyard farm-stand crawl.

Yes! Leave me a message! I love your comments.

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And yet: it is shockingly delicious – tender, savory, nutty, rich, and comforting. The taste is something you can’t quite put your finger on – and one you want to chase like a drug-high. It’s one of the best pork dishes I’ve ever eaten — and one of the first dishes I ever made for others.

The Story of the Pork That Would Not Die.

Back in the mid-1970s, I lived in a sprawling, down-at-the-mouth apartment in Brookline, Massachusetts. The kind that is furnished with saggy sofas and lava lamps. One random night, I invited two friends, Fran and Charles, over for dinner. I made a pork cooked in milk dish. I remember the pork bubbling on the ancient gas stove and my friends saying, “Pork in milk? Really?”

And then! What started as a casual, experimental dinner from early adulthood turned into an unusually delicious meal, an enduring food memory and a permanent landmark in the geography of a long friendship.

Over the years, Charles frequently asked me: “Are you ever going to make that pork thing again? The one in milk?”

Sadly I had to say no because I had lost the recipe.

Forty five years later, it came back to me.

In January 2026, Alison Roman, the prominent food writer, published a story about ugly food that included a recipe for pork and milk.

It ran in the new Gourmet newsletter. On Jan. 23, 2026 - my birthday no less. It felt like karma to me.

But wait. Could this really be THAT pork in milk recipe?”

After all, I made this memorable pork-in-milk meal back in the 1970s, when:

• Wine meant chianti in a straw basket.

• The phone was connected to the wall.

• Not even Al Gore had heard of the internet.

• Alison Roman had not been born.

When I read the recipe, I got that unpredictable jolt of recognition, a feeling that something lost had been found.

After that, so many pieces fell into place

It turns out, Alison’s article caused a stir (yes that was a pun. And yes, I am proud of it.)

Readers wrote into Gourmet to share the history of this dish; it turns out it has a longer lineage than my 1970s Brookline kitchen.

The version I made probably came from Marcella Hazan, whose groundbreaking cookbook “The Classic Italian Cookbook” came out in 1974. Maybe I had the cookbook? Or saw the recipe in my local paper, The Boston Globe? Who knows!

But the timing makes sense.

And then the trail continued. The recipe appears in Ada Boni’s 1929 cookbook The Talisman of Happiness.

And if you really want to fall down the rabbit hole, there are versions floating around Tuscany that claim roots in the 15th century. Which feels about right for a dish this weird and perfect. Because good food always has a story to tell.

I recently re-made this recipe for Charles.

Here he is, taking his first bite.

It makes me happy the story - and the recipe - has come full circle. And (I hope) exceeded Charles’ expectations. It certainly exceeded mine.

Why am I telling you this story?

Food, at its core, is a story about people and places and relationships. And Pork-Cooked-in-Milk is one of my back stories reincarnated. It’s a memory rooted in one meal oh-so-many years ago. It’s a tale of an enduring friendship. And it’s making new memories today.

This is also a parable — of the ugly duckling.

Think about it. Today’s memories are captured on Instagram and Facebook. The stories overwhelm us with perfection – physical, familial, aesthetic and culinary. Perfection is treated like a moral achievement. It makes fitting in feel more acceptable than being who you are, an imperfect, messy, lovable and unique individual.

But this dish - this dish - is an homage to the messiness and uniqueness that is life at its best.

The recipe: Pork in Milk (Maiale al Latte)

Adapted from Alison Roman’s recipe for “Pork Cooked in Milk”, with a few added ideas from Trusted Tables.

Ingredients

• 3 pounds boneless pork shoulder, with fat on top

• Salt and black pepper

• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

• 2 heads garlic, halved crosswise. (I kept the skins on. Next time I will remove the skins and mash them into the sauce.)

• A few herbs of your choice. (I put in a sprig fresh rosemary and a tablespoon of dried rosemary. Alison uses a tablespoon of fennel seed.)

• 4 cups whole milk (Whole milk matters - the fat produces the curds)

• Optional: a green. (I used a bunch of organic spinach. It was a good decision.)

• 1 lemon, halved

Equipment + Oven

• A Dutch oven with a lid

• A low oven: I set mine at 325 and used “convection roast”

Method

• Salt the meat. Generously.
  Rule of thumb: 1 teaspoon of kosher salt per pound of meat
  Let it sit in the fridge, uncovered, for 24 - 48 hours.

• Sear the pork
  Sear the pork on all sides, in heated olive oil, in the Dutch oven.
  Let the fat cap get particularly crispy.
  Expect it to take about 20–25 minutes.

• Brown garlic and toast herbs
  Add the garlic, cut side down.
  Brown it slightly in the fat (it takes a minute or two).
  Add the herbs and let them toast for a moment as well.

• Add the milk
  I also added a cup of water. Reminder: use whole milk!

• Cover your pan and place it in the oven for about 90 minutes.
  The milk will curdle (hence the word curds) and separate from the liquid. That’s what you want.'

  

• Uncover the pot and return it to the oven
  Both the meat and curds will brown. The liquid will reduce by about half and look brothy.
  It will take another 1½–2 hours.

• Finish, serve, enjoy
  Transfer the pork to a serving bowl or platter.
  If you want, drop your dark leafy greens into the pot and let them wilt. Scatter them around the platter.
  Spoon sauce and caramelized curds over the pork. Squeeze with lemon.

Notes (Trust These)

• The brown curds are the point of this story. They taste like savory caramel.

• Pork shoulder works particularly well because it is fatty. I would not use pork loin.

• My pork fell apart in chunks. Sometimes it may be more sliceable. It doesn’t matter.

• This dish can be made a few days ahead. Store, covered, in the fridge.

• The key to it all is a “low and slow” oven.

• Don’t skip the lemon at the end.

About the new Gourmet

If you’re a foodie – and I assume you are because you are reading this - the new Gourmet is worth a look.

As Ruth Reichl, its former editor before it was dismantled in 2009, said:
“Gourmet deserves to rise from the ashes.”

And now it has.

It’s been reformulated by a small group of “worker/owners”, led by Sam Dean, a food writer from Los Angeles. It’s fun and funny, human and edgy.

It’s $7/month and genuinely enjoyable.

And if nothing else, it may deliver a lost recipe back to you, maybe even on your birthday.

Which feels…..deliciously karmic.

Foods create memories; memories are intertwined with food. Do you have a food or meal memory that speaks to you? Please share it. Leave a comment. Your stories are too good not to be told.

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Hakkasan is all James Bond: it’s global elegance personified. The sleek, sexy and handsome outside covers discipline, order and restraint behind the scenes. There is no hint of Jason Bourne’s grit or spontaneity.

Hakkasan translates literally to “guest mountain”. Hakka means “guest people” and is a reference to the Hakka, a migratory Chinese tribe known for resilience and strong culinary traditions. San means mountain. So, the name aims big and high; it’s designed to evoke Chinese food as a global, traveling culture.

The name fits the place. The restaurant has a migratory element. Eleven Hakkasans span the globe. Think London, Las Vengas, Dubai, Doha, Mexico City, Miami Beach. Places like that.

Hakkasan is a place where people dress up and spend money.

As you would expect of a high-end global chain, there is a “this could be anywhere” feel to the place, when “the anywhere” is intentionally opulent and polished.

The black wood panels ooze Chinese mythology, with snakes and rams in high relief. Walking through the restaurant you feel surrounded by velvety darkness and a late night pulse, with music that is pumped in from the same play list, at the same decibel, at every Hakkesan around the world. If you don’t like a pulsating base as a background to your dinner, this place is not for you.

I’m generally more fascinated by the smaller, one-of-a-kind chef driven restaurants meant to showcase the cultural heritage or foods of the chef, or the neighborhood, but Hakkasan has definite appeal if you are looking for a “go big or go home” night out.

The food is Cantonese-ish.

The food at Hakkasan is rooted in Cantonese tradition, interpreted for its “see and be seen” customer. The kitchen is clearly skilled and competent. I’m guessing they don’t make many mistakes here; night to night you will encounter the same high level of presentation, sophisticated technique and complex texture and taste.

The Peking Duck is perfect.

The skin is thin and crispy and separated from the meat, the way it is supposed to be. The soft pancakes are so thin they are barely there, and yet they hold up to the duck, the thinly sliced cucumber and the hoisin sauce. It’s a dish of contrasts and I want to go back just to order it again, at the bar, because of its perfection.

The short ribs are another specialty and they are a wow; showing off the kitchen’s skill and technique.

The pieces are cut into squares, resembling brownies (I know! A little odd!). The first bite – oh the first bite! – is deeply unami, silky smooth, slightly smokey and tender without being fatty. How do they do that? It is slow cooked for 3 or 4 hours, according to our waitperson. But the technique goes way beyond that. Ahh, the secrets of a skilled chef!

The restaurant is also known for dim sum, which are beautifully arranged in a bamboo steamer basket. I loved the colors. The tastes, unfortunately, were a little bland and indistinguishable to me.

We also tried the colorful Chicken Kung Pao.

I think of this dish as Friday night take out from the local Chinese place - back when local Chinese places were everywhere. But this dish rose high about that bar. The chicken was tender and nicely spiced.

And this dessert is as fluffy and light as it looks:

The Mango custard with grapefruit, calamansi (those citrus slices), meringue and coconut sorbet, is full of contrasting textures and not too sweet - the right ending to the meal.

The wait person explained that the wine list (both by the glass and bottle) is chosen to complement the food. We chose a Sancerre that I loved; it arrived cold and grassy and grapefruity and minerally. It was wonderful on its own and with the food.

The Cost.

This is a very expensive restaurant – no ifs, ands or buts about it. Because my wonderful friends treated me, (thank you so much!), I can’t tell you what it costs.

The bottom line.

Hakkasan knows what it’s doing and it’s been doing it a long time. Go there for a luxury, seductive experience, a night out in a pulsating global city. While the food feels more like corporate vision than a chef’s creative intention, it is damn good.

If you go, or have been, let me know what you think:

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Hakkasan Miami
Located in the Fontainebleau Hotel
4441 Collins Ave.
Miami Beach, FL 33140
305-538-2000
https://taogroup.com/venues/hakkasan-miami/

El Carajo is anything but a “what the hell” experience.

It’s a gas station. It’s a gas station rest stop. It’s a bakery. It’s a wine store. It’s a Spanish restaurant. If you don’t believe me, take a look at these two pictures. The first is what you see when you walk in the door and turn left. And second is what is happening when you turn right:

The restaurant’s back story

In 1982, Richard Fonseco fled Cuba and came to Miami. To start his new life, he purchased an operating gas station and repair shop right there on US 1.

Shortly after, Richard met wine - and it was love at first sip. An entrepreneurial man, he started to sell some wine in the repair shop —a weird, creative and oddly successful experiment.

As time evolved, he replaced the repair shop with a carwash but the wine business was growing and a wine shop ultimately replaced the carwash. As his children grew up, they were drawn to the wine and the food. They added the restaurant in 2005 after a trip to Spain.

Many people fall in love with the food when traveling and want to bring it home - but Richard’s kids actually did it!

What’s it like to go to El Carajo

There is a warmth to this place; it feels exactly like what it is: a well-loved and mature family business. There is nothing fancy or flashy. You could be in a neighborhood-y Spanish restaurant in a small town, albeit one with a wall painted to look like an Italian courtyard. The clientele feels oh-so-local.

On my first visit, we tried the paella and it sadly fell short of my expectations. It was comforting and tasty but lacked the signature crunchy rice bottom that is typical of great Spanish paella.

The tapas, however, shine.

The datiles envueltos en tocino (dried dates wrapped in Spanish chorizo and bacon) were the best I have ever had. The dried dates make each bite compact and full of sweet and smokey flavor without that oozy-fatty feel.

The gammas al ajillo - shrimp in a traditional garlic/olive oil sauce heavy heavy heavy on the garlic - was served prickly hot, just like it’s supposed to be. I’m not sure what was better with the garlic sauce - the shrimp or the bread.

I’m a huge potato freak and I tend to order Patatas Bravas in all Spanish restaurants. This version had crispy bites of potatoes with just the right amount of Brava sauce and creamy aioli. Bravas sauce is a smoky, spicy, tangy sauce made from tomatoes, garlic, olive oil and spices like sweet and smoked pepper. In some version, it overwhelms the potatoes and makes them soggy. But not at El Carajo. No, no. The sauce is used in a restrained manner, leaving the potatoes nice and crispy.

The third time I went (and yes, the fourth time is coming up!) we tried the Pinchos de Carne:

If you like beef, these skewers are tender and delicious.

The wine was brilliant with the food. I enjoyed a Tempranillo called Torres Altos Ibericos Crianza Rioja. It was velvety smooth, dark colored and a touch of spice that was complemented the food. And it was $10/glass.

One of my dining companions wanted something close to her favorite Sauvignon Blanc and got it in the Pazo Das Bruxas Albarino. Pazo Das Bruxas means “House of Witches” and was inspired by myths of Galician witches conjuring up spirits and dance in old country houses known as Pazos. You’ve got to love that story for a wine brand.

In summary:

If I were a grading woman, I’d say the El Carajo experience is an A+. It’s just so happy: full of animated conversations and bottles of wine and, well, a life feeling of life joyfully lived.

I’m going back!

The cost of it all: $118 (including tax/not tip) for 3:

• Garlic shrimp

• Patatas bravas

• Alcachofast Al Ajillo

• Datile Envueltos en Tocin

• Tarta de la noche with ice cream

• 2 glasses of the red wine

• 2 glass of the white wine

• 2 beers.

El Carajo
2465 SW 17th Ave
Miami FL 33145
305-856-2424

I love your comments! Please leave them here!

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My 2026 intention is to explore how creative thinking shows up at restaurants and in recipes and what happens as a result (generally a lot of deliciousness) and what creative thinking lessons the rest of us can learn from them.

What is creative thinking?

For me, creative thinking is the process of coming up with something new and worthwhile.

Creative thinking shows up when someone says, “this is how I see the world—this is how it looks and tastes and smells.”

It’s the opposite of the “trying to please all people all the time” mindset, a mindset that inevitably leads to sameness and blandness. I’m talking to you:

• Big hotel conference food—all tasteless chicken breast, wilted green beans, absence of taste.

• Iceberg lettuce—all crunch, no nutrients, no soul.

• The Cheesecake Factory—200+ menu items, multiple cuisines, no personality.

When home cooks and professional chefs have a unique point of view, it comes through — in the food, in the venue, in the service. In essence they use foods and recipes, flavors and table settings, to tell their story.

There’s a current restaurant trend that I’m loving right now: chefs from different backgrounds - maybe Jewish or Palestinian, Black or Indian - are telling the story of their own people and their own history. For example, Comfort Kitchen in Boston tells the food story of African Americans as they moved around the globe during the Slave Trade; Yellow, a cafe in Washington DC, marries Palestian flavors like za’tar and tahini, with French cooking techniques in exciting new ways. The examples are endless. Look for this type of restaurant and you’ll be rewarded with both good food and flavorful insight into history and where we all come from.

Constraints are a secret ingredient.

Constraints – like time, money, cultural norms, physical limitations, even boredom – are ever present, a virtual fact of life. Part of bringing something new and meaningful into the world is recognizing the constraints and then breaking through them. Creative thinking thrives with constraints.

In the world of food, it means figuring out what to do when fresh vegetables are out of season, or turning out meals from ridiculously tiny spaces, or overcoming the boredom of producing the same thing night after night. Even we home cooks frequently use creativity to figure out how to make substitutions in recipes, or what to do with leftovers.

Constraints focus the mind; they demand choice and experimentation and commitment. I love how chefs deal with these constraints.

The plate is a prototype.

Innovation involves prototyping—creating a fast version of a new product or service, in order to test it out and refine it. In kitchens, a plate is always a prototype—create a recipe, make it, put it on a plate, and see how people respond. Tweak the recipe based on people’s response. The essence of prototyping.

Chefs prototype daily—during prep, during family meal, during service itself. A dish that doesn’t taste great gets pulled; a dish that surprises stays.

Creative thinking isn’t about polish. It’s about responsiveness.

I want to leave you with this clip of the ever creative sous chef Sydney from the The Bear, one of my fave TV shows. Ever.

Sydney is the up-and-coming sous chef on The Bear. In a famous episode, she cooks for one of her co-workers who’s tired and stressed and starved. We watch Sydney prepare this omelette—with generosity (another dimension of creativity) and determination and skill and, of course, a brilliant pop of something new.

When I rewatched this episode, I really wanted to make the omelette with Sydney’s special point of view – the way she scrambles the eggs, the care with which she cooks the eggs, and most of all – the magic of a unique and surprising ingredient at the end. It’s amazing to me recipe developers haven’t published the recipe anywhere – and no restauranteur has put it on the menu. Take a look and enjoy:

Will you share creative food finds you have experienced lately?

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My friend and I walked into the Bamboo Room, a hidden high class tiki bar in the back of the Esme Hotel in Miami Beach. We sat at the bar. Turns out the bar was made from Al Capone’s gambling table. The place is owned by the people who carry on the Trader Vic’s legacy.

Anyone remember Trader Vic’s? It was a hot Polynesian-themed restaurant that opened in LA in the 1930s and spread all the way to mid-town Manhattan; a definite legend in its own time. The founder, Victor Jules Bergeron, Jr., a.k.a. Vic, claims to be the inventor of the Mai-Tai.

My grandfather loved Trader Vic’s. The last time I saw him, we were having lunch at the Trader Vic’s in St. Louis, my home town. At the Bamboo Room, I was drowning in memories and nostalgia before I even got to the rum.

Louis, the chatty (but not too chatty) bartender with Cuban roots made us MaiTai’s from the original Trader Vic’s recipe of 1944. I am not a cocktail person but this drink could turn me into one. It is the original recipe, made with lime, orgeat, orange curaçao and aged rum. Orgeat (pronounced “ore-zha”) is the secret ingredient in a Mai Tai. It’s made from almonds, sugar and orange flower. It results in an almondy, not too sweet, perfectly balanced, highly drinkable…ok, way too drinkable…MaiTai. With rock candy swizzle stick on top, for that extra nostalgic wallop.

To seal the deal on what a wonderful place the Bamboo Room is, we met two 40-something women from Queens at Al Capone’s former gambling table. These were real deal roller derby women. Repeat. They skated in roller derbies around the country. And they are such good friends, they finish each other’s sentences. One is now a psychotherapist; the other owns a vintage clothing store. They looked like roller derby women - tough, strong, quirky, happy, friendly.

After we paid and began to gather our belongings, Louis handed us a parting gift: a sip of Brugal’s 1888 dark rum. OMG! Rich and complex, caramel but, again, not too sweet.

Can you ever, I mean ever, imagine a better cocktail bar night.

What we paid for two MaiTais, including tax and tip:

a hefty $59.34. And worth every penny.

The Bamboo Room
Esme Hotel Miami Beach
1438 Washington Ave.
Miami Beach FL 33139
Bamboo Room

Every cocktail bar story has to be about more than delicious cocktails. That’s why I loved the Bamboo Room. Do you have any cocktail bar stories to share?

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But there I was, arriving at Double Luck, a fairly new (6 month old) Chinese restaurant on 79^th St in Miami, at 6:15.

And I have to say, they had me at hello. Actually, they had me before we got to the hello part.

I felt positive vibes approaching the front door. I can’t explain the feeling but it had something to do with the logo over the door. Seriously! The logo! The typeface had a vaguely old-school, diner feel to it. And the crescent moon shining above the verbiage felt happy.

In China, the crescent moon signals new beginnings and this restaurant is certainly that.

For those who know Miami, the restaurant sits at the foot of the 79^th St bridge, on the Miami side, a neighborhood that is reinventing itself. Across the street are not one but two “Extra Space Storage” warehouses. The space used to be the New Schnitzel House. Before that, it was the Old Schnitzel House. There is history in that building.

And now it’s Double Luck, a recent hot spot brought to you by the owners/chefs at Tam Tam, a Michelin Bib Gourmand restaurant also in Miami.

Walking inside, the place glows. In fact it almost pulsates, with red lanterns and red booths and, I don’t know, just a red glow. Red is everywhere here; the Chinese associate red with life force and vital energy; it literally wards off misfortune and invites prosperity. I say, bring it on.

Double luck food reimagines Chinese-American classics while introducing more unfamiliar dishes as well.

Chef Adrian Ochoa is a “Miami Boy” from Kendall who worked his way up from bus boy at Eating House to sous chef at Ghee, then to TamTam before taking over the top position here. His Dad is Cuban and his Mom is Guatemalan. He learned to cook at Ghee and his talents, curiosity and drove him deeper into Asian food. He built the menu at Double Luck around familiar Cantonese foods like crab ragoon, pork belly, sweet and sour chicken - and brought to it a sharper lens, serious culinary creds and some new twists and turns.

We ordered small for two people – meaning we split an appetizer, a vegetable, and a main dish.

For the appetizer, we ordered the Aromatic Duck Salad. It was more green salad than duck and very herby, some might say redolent, with cilantro and watercress. The dressing was duck dripping-infused oil. (I think that’s what the wait person said). It was refreshing and clean and had unusual depth. We cleaned that plate and I wanted more!

The Tempura Eggplant, another appetizer, looked like a corndog…and kind of tasted like one too. A good corndog, hot and crunchy on the outside and soft and mushy inside. But still a corndog. It sat on a sauce that looked tomato based, with chili oil (not too hot) and fish sauce. Not a fave, but I’m not a corndog fan.

The seafood soup, called Seafood Delight, was a home run. A rich broth formed the base. Then came “layered in” thin fried noodles that retained a little crunch as they sank into the soup. On top was the fish – some scallops, shrimp, octopus, as well as thinly sliced beans and carrots. Satisfying, comforting, a little tangy, a good order.

We missed some of the “go to” menu items - like the Hennessey orange chicken which gets set gloriously aflame! But there’s always next time.

The creative wine list complements the menu surprising well.

I had the Txakoli Txomin Extaniz, a white wine from the Basque region of Spain - a crispy, zesty white that stood up to the food.

The Breaking Bread Muscat, from California, is a skin-contact orange wine that tasted a bit like a very light fruity cocktail with apricot, marmalade and tropical fruit.

What it Costs: $138.00 before tip, for two.

• aromatic duck salad

• eggplant tempura

• Seafood delight

• 4 glasses of wine

Contacting Double Luck:

Double Luck Miami
1085 NE 79th St, Miami, FL 33138
admin@doubleluckmiami.com
305-675-4287

If you go, let me know what you think! And if you have any ideas for restaurants to try, lay them on me!

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Apple pie is one of my favorite parts of thanksgiving. But as it turns out, apple pie is not an indigenous experience, not even close. It is, instead, a tribute to the many people who make up our country.

Apple pie is a result of global collaboration.

European settlers brought apple seeds to plant in America; the apples themselves originated in Central Asia (today’s Kazakhstan). Wheat and butter hitched a ride from European settlers; sugar emigrated from Caribbean plantations. Cinnamon is the most exotic of them all it traveled the Silk Road from Sri Lanka. For thousands of years it was rare, expensive and mysterious, a luxury in the Roman era and a sign of wealth and power in the middle ages.

Pie is world history wrapped in a pastry.

And the tradition of making pie itself?

It didn’t start in America or even England—it began as an ancient hack for cooking and carrying food. Egyptians invented it, Greeks refined it, Romans spread it, and the British turned it into an art form. By the time the tradition reached America, pie was already a 4,000-year-old traveler, picking up flavors and techniques across continents.

So when did apple pie become known as American?

During World War I, the phrase “as American as apple pie” emerged; it took off during World War II, thanks to the American hunger for a patriot icon and a homespun brand to stand behind.

So as we eat our apple pie today, let’s tip our proverbial Pilgrim hats and give our thanks to the peoples of the world who brought us this treat.

It turns out apple pie really is American. Just not in the way we were taught. It’s American because it’s from everywhere.

Have any thoughts about Thanksgiving or apple pie. Share them here!

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It all started in the Brussels train station!

I’m standing alone and confused, in the middle of the bustling Brussels train station, en route from Brussels to Ghent. I can’t figure out what train to get on. Do I follow the signs to Gent? To Gand? To something else altogether.

After 3 interventions from gracious strangers, I learn that Gent, Ghent and Gand are the same place. Brussels is a 3 language city in a linguistically divided country. The north part is Flemish and the city is Gent; the southern part is French and the city is Gand; Brussels, the middle and most global city, adds English (Ghent) to the mix.

This intermingling of cultures + its monastic past has produced a dynamic food and beer culture.

In Gent/Gand/Ghent, a total stranger welcomes me into her home. Together we prepare a meal rooted in Belgium traditions.

Night 1 in Gent/Gand/Ghent, I am in SuzyLowers suburban home north of Gent. Suzy, an artist and a great cook, was raised in Ghent/ As we prepared a traditional meal, she shared her uniquely Belgium story.

Growing up in southern, French influence dominated the culture. The food, the clothes, the language - everything assumed a hint of aristocratic polish. Then adulthood pulled her north, into a university town that runs on creativity, practicality, and a proudly down-home vibe.

I’m in Suzy’s kitchen because of Traveling Spoon—a travel resource you absolutely need to know about.

Officially, Traveling Spoon invites travelers to visit the homes of local, vetted hosts to share the joy of a homemade meal and learn about their cultural and culinary traditions passed down through generations. They call it “traveling off the eaten path”.

Its website promises:

Traveling Spoon is like having a friend -or a friend’s mom - cook you a home cooked meal in whatever country you are visiting. It’s a warm welcome, a hug, an introduction to the culture,

I’m a fan! It brought me a cozy dinner with people who felt like friends. And we made these typically Belgium specialities.

Pea soup is on the menu thanks to the monastic monks who made soup to ward off the cold.

Pea soup is part of the pan-Flemish-French DNA. It combines the simmering tradition of the Flemish peasant meals with the herbs and refined seasonings of the French. Plus it’s just easy to make and downright delicious.

For this soup. we cut up 2 onions, 700 grams frozen peas, one leak and one celery stalk. We threw them into a pan with 2 Tablespoons butter, some thyme, a bay leaf and 6 leaves of mint and let them “sweat” a bit. Next we added the 700 grams peas and 2 liters of chicken stock, simmered everything for 20 minutes, blended it and seasoned it with salt and pepper. A little bit of smoked fish on top adds a unami complexity. So good!

Salmon is woven into the historic palate of Belgium

The rivers in Belgium team with salmon; the fish pairs well with beer and the cream sauces from neighboring France. This wrapped salmon is healthy, easy to make and hard to mess up:

Simply wrap four pieces of salmon in four squares of greaseproof paper. We covered the salmon with diced leeks and carrots and a dollop of butter. Seasoning with salt, pepper and whatever herbs were around. Spoon a little white wine on top, scrunched up and closed and paper and let it cook in a 200C oven for 15 minutes.

In Belgium, craft beer is a religious experience and a lifestyle.

IF you are micro-brewery fan, put Belgium on your list of places to taste! They say (not sure who the “they” refers to, but everyone says that) Belgium has about 1500 different types of beer in Belgium, each with its own glass. It’s like the Amazon of Beer. Here’s a look at some glasses for sale:

Beer in Belgium started in the monasteries, where those clever monks brewed and sold beer because it was safer than water. The tradition continued. As other countries (I’m looking at you, Germany, and your Beer Purity Law) standardized and regulated beer making, Belgium doubled down on creativity and experimentation.

The beer culture in Belgium prizes creativity over purity and the beer universe includes Trappist ales, abbey ales, blondes, tripels, dark strong ales, saisons, lambics, sours, witbiers, and dozens of specialty styles.No specific recommendations here. Just go with the flow. You cannot go wrong

Making chocolate in Bruges is a messy affair, as affairs tend to be.

I went to a chocolate class in the beautiful city of Bruges and learned the secrets to making the famous Belgium chocolate. In no particular order, they are:

• prioritize bean quality over yield

• grind it extra fine - which reduces acidity

• be obsessed with cocoa butter to get that perfect melt and a cleaner flavor

• the pralines - a.k.a. filled chocolate, invented in Belgium (just like fries, another story)

• rigorous apprenticeships

• it makes a huge mess

The chocolate making table in class looks like a bunchy of kindergartners were at work - but it’s just a messy messy process. But those chocolates we made - gorgeous and delicious.

My apprenticeship may have been short (3 hours), thanks to all the secrets of Belgium chocolate, the filled chocolates (known as pralines) turned out just as I wanted.

Last stop: Antwerp. It’s Brooklyn with less traffic, more style, and lots of diamonds.

Antwerp, a gritty industrial city turned into an edgy fashion hub, is worth a stop on any European adventure. If you go and want a meal worthy of a Michelin something, try Harvest. Casual with a hint of elegance, it welcomes solo diners, groups, locals and travelers.

Harvest is the kind of place I love. Quietly elegant and comfortable, it cares about local ingredients and finding the connection to the local through the food. It’s clean, simple, sophisticated. Even a tomato salad feels like a conversation between produce and technique.

In the end, Belgium is a country that refuses to be just one thing—French and Flemish, elegant and earthy, old-world and boundary-pushing. Its food culture mirrors that mix: stubbornly local, joyfully inventive, and rooted in a deep respect for craft. It’s a place where every bite tells you exactly who they are.

Thank you for getting this far!

Anything to say about Belgium? Beer? Travel? Trusted Tables? Anything else? Leave me a comment!

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Recommendations in this post:

Ghent: Traveling Spoon

Bruges: Chocolate class

Antwerp: Harvest Restaurant

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Now is the last chance to store your final summer food memories in your brain until 2026 rolls around.

Here’s my list of 5 sneaky stunners plus 2 bonus stunners I’ve only heard rumors about. And then there’s a weird item you need to see.

Put all of them on your summer food zen bucket list. They will all make you say: “OMGOMGOMGTHAT’SSOGOOD”.

Aalia’s. Oak Bluffs, MA. Foul Moudamass. AND the cinnamon bun.

This tiny little spot has it going on. It is punching way over its weight. Everything on the menu is great. The coffees lean toward the Italian variety - with specialties like cortados, macchiatos, cappuccino and latte. The food has a Lebanese twist. Here’s what to experiment with:

• Foul Moudamass. I know. A weird name. It’s a fava bean stew invented in ancient Egypt and now considered a stable there. The Aalia version is fava beans cooked in a ton of garlic and other spices I couldn’t decipher, served with soft, hot and chewy pita bread. It’s addictive and very shareable. $15.

  

The Cinnamon roll. The baker has been baking this yeast roll for over 20 years and he clearly knows what he is doing. The dough itself is soft and only slightly sweet, like Challah bread. It’s rolled around cinnamon and sugar. After baking, it is topped with a heap of whipped and sweetened cream cheese. I can’t do it justice with words. Just try it. $6.

Beach Road. Vineyard Haven, MA The Hot Dog. And the always weird bonita flakes on the shoshito peppers.

• The hot dog. All summer, I’ve been telling anyone who will listen to me to go to Beach Road Restaurant and order the hot dog. Yes, the hot dog. It’s a perfectly spiced beef dog, on a brioche bun, then covered in a grainy mustard, kimchi, and, to top it off, a handful of fried onion rings. On the side is a pile of thin and nicely spiced fries. Just do it. $24. And well worth it.

• The Shoshito peppers.

The shoshito peppers are delicious. Perfectly cooked and salted. And then topped with Bonita flakes, which are dried, shaved pieces of tuna. When the flakes feel the heat of the peppers, they dance. $14.

19 Raw. Edgartown, MA. The Lobster Salad.

It was lunchtime, a random Tuesday. Edgartown was bustling with tourists sporting name tags and looking for a place to eat. The Atlantic was closed. The line at the Seafood Shanty looked like it could crawl forward for days. And Behind the Bookstore just didn’t appeal. We ended up on the front patio at 19 Raw.

I took what felt like a food risk and ordered the lobster salad. By a risk, I mean I was hoping the lobster wouldn’t be drowning in mayonnaise. In fact, the salad I received was one of the freshest tasting, healthiest feeling lobster salad I have ever had. A mound of fresh, local lettuces like arugula and spinach, baby tomatoes, some sliced watermelon, a little gorgonzola and what looked like meat from an entire 1 pound lobster. And a light lemony dressing. I’m telling you, it was perfect. It’s $34.

Homeport. Menemsha. Lobster Dinner.

Feel the trend? Nothing says summer in New England like lobster. And eating a whole 1.5 pound boiled lobster, with the fixins’, on a deck overlook Menemsha pond, is an experience that cannot be beat. The fixins’ include steamers, mussels, boiled dilled potatoes, an ear of corn, it’s impossible to resist. $69. Pricey, I know.

And while you are there, give the green gazpacho a go. Honeydew, cucumber, what grapes, almonds and olive oil. Slightly sweet, with depth, refreshing. $15.

S&S Kitchenette. Vineyard Haven. Go for the pastries. Stay for the flowers.

S&S is a gem – small, quirky, personal. The counter is on the left and a communal table is on the right. The table is lined with fresh flowers, that are changed weekly. They are worth the visit.

The coffee comes in an old fashion teacup. I love the scones.

They serve dinner as well, but I haven’t made it there yet.

Two bonus extra-secrets.

I haven’t tried these but I plan to:

Covington. Edgartown. The home made root beer.

I’m secretly hoping there is ice cream in it.

Expresso Love. Edgartown. the burger.

And I know - would never think of going there for a burger.

I’m sad summer is closing down. But, as always, when one door closes another door opens.

We’ll have a few more posts from Martha’s Vineyard in the next 6 weeks, but stay tuned for “Eating in Belgium” and “Eating in Miami”.

Enjoy!

Anne

Do you have any sneaky menu stunners you want to share? On the Vineyard or elsewhere? Tell us about it! I’ll go anywhere for memorable food.

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Ten minutes late and the meal is half made.

That’s because Jenny DeVivo, the chef in charge, moves so fast. She darts around, grabbing veggies, giving out assignments, impatiently slicing some of the carrots herself, laughing, telling a joke. “Hello, my friend”, she says in my general direction as I stare around the room, bewildered by the noise and activity.

Cooking with fresh, local ingredients begs for creativity and flexibility.

The class is called “Cooking from the Island: What’s Fresh and What’s Local”. It is held regularly throughout the summer at the Farm Institute.

The title is a bit misleading because Jenny focuses as much on spontaneity as she does on specific ingredients. She’s all about creativity and flexibility and just plain old joy while pulling together a meal with what is fresh, local and in the frig.

This class focused on veggies that are around now: cabbage, lettuce, carrots, mint, spring onions (even though it’s late summer) and green beans.

The goal was to use these ingredients in different dishes. Menu building focused on a taste profile, which I would define as “vaguely Asian”. We basically used peanuts, soy sauce, ginger and honey in different ways.

The evening’s menu:

· Fresh rolls (fresh veggies and noodles wrapped in rice paper and dipped into a peanut sauce)

· A chopped salad with a ginger, soy dressing

· Pork cubes marinated in honey and soy, 3 to a skewer, roasted in the oven

· Roasted green beans and onions

There were no printed or shared recipes. Did I mention that Jenny was all about spontaneity and creativity? There was also not a lot of measuring or complex technique or time-consuming whatevers.

I learned how to make restaurant-like Vietnamese fresh rolls. And so can you!

Ever wondered how to make fresh rolls - those rolls of diced vegetables, protein and noodles served with some kind of peanut/soy dipping sauce in Asian restaurants. They are a healthy treat that feel daunting to make.

Now I know the secret. Buy a package of these discs.

Yes, they look like plastic placements. You could use them for an art project. But they are actually spring roll wrappers, made out of rice flour and water. You can find them in virtually any supermarket. Dip them in water to soften them, layer some sliced veggies of your choice on them, wrap and serve. It is literally as easy as that. The wrapping and rolling part admittedly needs a little practice and yields a lot of shapes:

Clearly, our wrapping skills were not top-notch. But what we lacked in skill, we made for with enthusiasm and humor.

Here’s what we layered in:

• lettuce

• thinly sliced/diced carrots

• thinly sliced cabbage

• thinly sliced cucumbers

• diced mint

• Rice noodles

• scallions

Here’s what it looks like pre-wrapping:

You can literally make it with whatever you have on hand, including bits of pork or chicken or tofu or shrimp.

To make the dipping sauce, whisk or whir these ingredients:

• 1/3 cup creamy peanut butter

• 2 Tablespoons rice vinegar

• 2 Tablespoons soy sauce

• 2 Tablespoons honey or maple syrup

• 1 Tablespoon toasted sesame oil

• 2 garlic cloves, minced or pressed

• water as needed

The whole meal - the fresh rolls, the pork, sautéed shoshito peppers, a salad (same ingredients as the spring rolls, just chopped and put in a bowl) and green beans - took less than an hour to prepare.

And at the end, we got to enjoy the fruits of our labors on the farm porch.

If you have any spontaneous recipes using fresh local ingredients, send them along!

Or sign up for a class at the Farm Institute on Martha’s Vineyard if you are on the island:

Farm Institute
14 Aero Ave
Edgartown MA 02539
508-627-7007

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Why do I ask? Because…. your condiments tell the story of you! Share your condiment list and share your story.

A back-story.

I recently attended the 2025 Martha’s Vineyard Book Festival, a glorious bi-annual event featuring 30 fascinating authors from the world of food, fiction, politics, history, sociology, anthropology. National Geographic just proclaimed it one of the 7 best book festivals around the world.

Ligaya Mishan, the New York Times food critic, moderated a food panel, weirdly titled “Eating Our Stories.” Fortunately, the panel was NOT about how we are consuming our own stories but how the foods we eat tell a story about us.

The panelists, Eric Kim, Steven Satterfield, Julia Blanter, and Jessica Harris, told their own stories about food and what it means to them. As they talked, I realized how food is a story of place - the place we come from, the places we’ve visited, the places we want to go.

Eric talked about how our refrigerators and pantries tell the story of how we eat now and how we have eaten over time. And my, how our eating habits have evolved. He was the first to ask: what condiments are in your frig?

Here’s my condiment story.

My daughter once told me my frig was overflowing with condiments and noticeably void of anything edible, much less nourishing. I hate to admit it – she was not wrong. When I look in my frig, I see a LOT of condiments; there are others I can’t see because they are hidden behind taller containers.

And it hits me. These condiments are a testament to my culinary hopes and dreams, long-lasting tokens of the foods I want to cook and the foods I imagine myself cooking someday. They manifest my current flavor preferences, my interest in various culinary traditions, and nostalgia for my upbringing.

My annotated condiment list:

· Unopened jar of Heinz ketchup. Because it feels unAmerican not to have ketchup in the frig, even if I don’t use it.

· Hellman’s mayonnaise. Important for slathering on swordfish steaks before grilling.

· 3 containers of gochujang, a Korean red pepper paste, thanks to Eric Kim’s recipes. Gochujang has added so much Unami richness to my life. The Koreans know how to meld sweet, sour, salty, bitter, spicy flavors into complex addictive flavors. Try Eric’s eggplant recipe below to see what i’m talking about.

· Soy sauce. Because it’s a basic.

· Fish sauce. For occasional fried rice and vegetable dinners.

· Dark and White Miso. Not exactly sure why I have these but I assume I will use them some day. And Yes, I am deep into an Asian cooking phase.

· Not 1 but 2 kinds of kimchi. Learning how to use it.

· 4 jars of mustard. 2 kinds of French Dijon, a honey mustard, and an aioli mustard. So many recipes call for mustard, but really do I need so much mustard?

· Verjuice. Vinegar made from unripened grapes. It’s got a bright, crisp acidity and fruity flavors. Use it in cooking or in mixed drinks. Softer tasting than regular vinegar.

· Capers. 3 jars. 1 unopened, 1 half used, 1 almost all gone. Love capers. They bring small bursts of tangy brininess to whatever I put them in.

· 3 kinds of hot sauce. Siracchi, tobacco, chipotle mayo. Because I’m a spicey kind of gal.

· Horseradish. For the Bloody Mary’s I never make or drink. But I like the thought of them.

So what stories do my condiments bring to the table (so to speak)

In too many ways, the condiments capture my story. I’m a wanna-be cook going through an Asian phase. I’m definitely susceptible to recommendations from cookbook writers I read on line (why else would I have Verjus). And I can’t get away from mustard and ketchup because they go on the hamburgers and hot dogs I never eat but think I might some day.

Now I want to ask you - and Eric Kim! - what condiments are in your frig? And why? Share your condiments! Share your story!

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Here is Eric Kim’s brilliant eggplant with gochujang recipe, from the New York Times. And there’s a video too.

It’s simple to make and addictively delicious. You can order gochujang from Amazon. I also bought some at Trader Joe’s.

The recipe.

Step 1

Place 1 pound Asian eggplant (about 3 large; preferably Korean, or Chinese or Japanese), halved lengthwise and cut into 4- to 5-inch segments in a colander set inside a large bowl or the sink. Sprinkle with the salt, toss to combine and let sit for 30 minutes to remove excess moisture.

Step 2

In a small bowl, add:

· 1 teaspoon kosher salt

· 2 tablespoons gochujang

· 1 tablespoon soy sauce

· 2 packed teaspoons dark brown sugar

· 1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

· 2 garlic cloves, finely grated

Whisk to combine. (Note to readers: this sauce is addictive. I have been putting it on other veggies, pasta, scrambled eggs, even grilled cheese sandwiches.)

Step 3

Put 1/2 c. olive oil and the white parts 4 scallions, sliced thinly lengthwise in a skillet. Turn the heat to medium and fry the scallions, stirring often, until crispy and evenly browned, about 8 minutes.

Reserve a small handful of raw scallion greens for garnish, then fry the remaining scallion greens in the oil until crispy and lightly browned, 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer fried scallion greens onto a paper towel.

Step 5

Remove the skillet from the heat and carefully pour the hot scallion oil into a glass container or measuring cup.

Step 6

After the 30 minutes of salting, dry the eggplant segments with a paper towel. Place the skillet over medium-high heat and add 2 tablespoons of the reserved scallion oil.

Step 7

When the oil starts to shimmer and you see a wisp of smoke, add half the eggplant, cut sides down, and fry until browned and starting to soften, 2 to 3 minutes. Flip once and cook another minute on the other side. Transfer to a plate, add 2 more tablespoons of scallion oil back to the pan, and repeat to fry the second batch of eggplants. (If you are lucky enough to have any scallion oil left, use it to fry eggs or to dress a salad.)

Step 8

Finally, sauce the eggplants: Add the first batch of eggplants back to the pan alongside the second batch. Reduce the heat to medium-low and pour the reserved gochujang sauce over the eggplants. Toss until evenly coated and the gochujang starts to caramelize, about 1 minute.

Step 9

Plate the eggplants on a large platter and garnish with the fried scallions and the reserved raw scallion greens. Serve immediately. To store for later, transfer to a resealable container and keep in the refrigerator for 3 to 5 days. This dish tastes great cold, straight out of the fridge, or at room temperature.

What’s your condiment-story? Share in a comment!

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Turns out, yes it was. But. She offered to create an adult class. Just for us.

So I said yes, please.

I was searching for a different kind of activity – one that would be a bit of a surprise and a little off the beaten path for summertime visitors to the island. And ice cream-making at the Farm Institute, a gorgeous property with almost views of the ocean and a constant gentle sea breeze, seemed just right.

On the day of the class, I could tell my guests were skeptical about going. Full transparency, I was too. Maybe it will be a little too childish – despite the “adults only” designation. Definitely fattening. But life is a bit of an adventure, I thought, so let’s give this one a go.

The Farm Institute: a Martha's Vineyard's Hidden Gem

The Farm Institute is a gift for this island. Originally cultivated by the Wampanoag Indians (because every place on this island was settled first by the Wampanoags) and then European settlers, it is a 162 acre working farm as well as a farm-based educational hub.

It runs weekly farming and cooking programs for kids, families and adults. It also leases its land to other local farms. It’s a kick to walk around, pick and pop a strawberry into your mouth, snap off a piece of asparagus, google at the baby cow, and gawk at the sheep, goats, chickens and ducks roaming around.

Custard vs. Regular Ice Cream: It’s a matter of taste. And mouth feel.

But my group was on an ice cream mission.

We walked into the kitchen, a bright, airy and air conditioned space set up with ice-cream making work stations.

The leader walked us through how to make a custard ice cream vs regular ice cream.

Basically, custard is what happens when ice cream goes to culinary school and comes back talking about "mouthfeel." It’s richer and denser than regular ice cream because it’s loaded with egg yolks; it feels more indulgent. And it is.

We watched as our teacher prepared a batch of custard-based ice cream. I’m thinking to myself, “this looks easy enough…not sure why I need her.”

And then it was our turn. She distributed instructions and we all freaked out about what to do first! She walked us through the process step by step. Here’s what we did:

1. Gently combined 1 cup whole milk, 1/2 cup granulated sugar, 2 Tbs unsweetened cocoa powder, pinch of salt and 2 cups heavy cream in a saucepan. Simmered and continuously stirred it.

2. Whisked 3 egg yolks and remaining 1/4 cup sugar until ribbons formed.

3. Tempered the eggs with the warm milk. That means we added some of the warm eggs to the milk and then slowly returned the eggs to the saucepan. We stirred the eggs and chocolate milk over gentle low heat until it thickened. The “tell” is when you drag your finger across the chocolate coated spoon and your fingerprint stays.

4. Finally, we cooled the mixture and churned it according to directions. You can add chocolate chips before and/or after churning if you are a chocolate freak looking for double or triple the chocolate-y-ness..

The simple recipe for “regular” ice cream that actually works.

The regular (ie., no eggs/not custard-based) strawberry ice cream was more straightforward. You mix all the ingredients together and put it into the ice cream machine and watch it churn and turn into dessert.

The ingredients are:

• 2 cups whole milk

• 2 cups heavy cream

• 1 cup granulated sugar

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• pinch of salt

• mashed strawberries - about 2 cups. or to your preference.

We mashed the strawberries growing right outside the window and added it into the mixture at the end.

Despite the very specific ingredient amounts, batches by different teams turned out differently. Some of us put in a little extra cream and, well, then the ice cream turns out creamier. Some of us added more strawberries and well, then, the ice cream turns out more intensely strawberry. Some of us did both (not saying who those indulgent-seeking ice cream makers were…..) but the result won the blind taste test. Just sayin…..

Thankfully, no matter what we did, it turned out great.

I now have a lifetime supply of creamy cold deliciousness.

We each left with a pint or two of our creamy deliciousness. My guests were leaving the next day and couldn’t take the ice cream with them. So, oh no! I ended up with 10 pints of homemade ice cream. That translates into many nightly bowls of the freshest, most luscious ice cream of my life.

What does it take to make ice cream at home?

An ice cream maker. Like this one from Cuisinart and available on Amazon.

The more I eat the homemade version of ice cream, the more I want.

The fresh, creamy taste with no chemical additives is so great, I could become an addict. Give it a try if you can, and let me know what you think. It will put a smile on your face. It certainly put a smile on ours.

The Particulars:

The Farm Institute
14 Aero Ave.
Edgartown MA 02539
508-627-7007
email: thefarminstitute@thetrustees.org
Class costs vary from $16 -$40/person depending on class

When Chef Ting took over a struggling restaurant site in Oak Bluffs , she knew the place required more than a menu update; it needed a total reboot. She started by clearing away the (literal) cobwebs, as well as the disappointments and the failures that came before.

She burned sage to clear out the bad juju. Not once. But four times.

She did it for you. She wants you to be in the right frame of mind – joyful and fresh – when you enter the restaurant.

When I walked into Black Joy Kitchen, I didn’t know all this. But I was immediately struck by the light-hearted spirit of the place. The white walls, the gleaming, ship-wood tables, the hint-of-Morocco light fixtures, the adorable young man welcoming people in and the joyful hugs of neighbors and friends running into one another in this intimate space. It all just made me feel good. And that was before I got to the food.

The menu is a journey through the African Diaspora with its bold and accessible flavors.

Chef Ting weaves the story of the Black Diaspora into her menu, starting with African royalty in 560 BC and traveling with enslaved Africans through South America, the Caribbean and the American South. It’s a story of resilience, artistry, bold flavors, and best loved flavors from grandmas’ kitchens around the world.

Sukuma Wiki: Tanzania’s Comfort Food

We started our journey through the diaspora in Tanzania, trying the Sukuma wiki; basically stewed greens (in this case, spinach) in a peanut sauce. The phrase Sukuma wiki means “stretch the week”, it’s one of those flexible recipes meant to transform left-over food into something new. I would describe it as a deeply comforting and warming food, like a hug for your stomach.

Gullah Red Rice: Carolina’s West African Heritage

Gullah Red Rice is a savory, smokey one pot red rice dish brought to the Carolinas by the Geechee people of West Africa. In America, they worked cotton and rice on isolated plantations along the southern coast, where they retained their traditions, social, cultural and culinary.

The Gullah red rice combines West African cooking techniques with “New World” ingredients, like tomatoes. The result is a satisfying, deeply flavored dish, with the texture of the best paella rice you’ve ever had.

Billionaire’s Bacon Bouquet: Best. Bacon. Ever.

Bacon is generally a love it or hate it item. I’m a lover. And the Billionaire’s Bacon Bouquet, for me, is reason enough to visit Black Joy. Over and over again. First of all, it served in a glass that vaguely resembles a bouquet:

The bacon is thick, deeply smoky and flavored with brown sugar mambo. Mambo is a sweet/tanging concoction, made from brown sugar and, typically ketchup and vinegar. The melted brown sugar brings a caramelly-molasses flavor to the bacon. Try it and see if you agree.

BBQ Meatballs: Unexpected Excellence

Five BBQ meatballs arrive in a molasses, bourbon sauce with just the right dab of pineapple:

Black Joy Kitchen

I’m generally not a fan of meatballs, but this one is a winner.

Other menu items I want to try at Black Joy.

Chef Ting organizes her menu around journeys: The Greens Journey, the Rice Journey, Animal Safari. It’s a clever organizational device. And it truly reflects her approach to food: a journey to new flavors from places seen through fresh eyes.

When I return, I want to try the Jollof Rice from Ghana, to see how it compares to the red rice as well as the whole piri piri snapper from Cape Verde and the Sya Honey drumstick chandelier from Cameroon.

Black Joy Kitchen Particuliars

Location: 7 Oakland Ae., Oak Bluffs, MA 508-338-7750
Cuisine: African Diaspora, Traditional American
Our dinner for 3: $215.76 , including tax and tip for the following:

• BBQ Meatballs

• Gullah Red Rice

• Billionaire's Bacon Bouquet

• Sukuma Wiki

• Awaze Scallop

• Eritrea House of Brown Wine

• 2 Mixed Drinks

Visit Black Joy Kitchen for an authentic taste of African diaspora cuisine in the heart of Oak Bluffs' dining scene.

Want to know more about food on Martha’s Vineyard:

Read about a 5-stop Martha's Vineyard food tour that tells the history of The Vineyard, bite by bite.

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Recently my friend Sue asked me to attend a history lecture about Martha’s Vineyard. Well, I thought, I’m better than my high school self and maybe it could be interesting and if wasn’t, well, we could bolt the lecture and go out to dinner.

A History Lesson Worth Staying For

It turns out that Bow Van Riper, the research librarian at the Martha’s Vineyard Museum, had me at hello. He doesn’t do dates and battles. He tells stories. Thematic ones.

With a sly sense of humor and a wealth of knowledge, Bow weaves a tale of faith, art and community throughout Martha’s Vineyard history. Taking notes as he spoke (I might have hated history class, but I was always a good student), I kept whispering to myself: “oh that’s why the island attracts so many artsy people” and “oh that’s why there are so many churches in Vineyard Haven”.

Being food obsessive, I also started thinking about how food connects the dots between today and yesterday’s life on the island.

All of which led me to this: a five-stop food tour (+one bonus extra stop) that traces the island’s history, one delicious bite-by-the-next.

1. Orange Peel Bakery: Wampanoag Spirit in Every Slice

Location: Aquinnah | Best for: Pizza nights, bread, community, the spirit of Wampanoag Indians past and present.

The Wampanoag people lived on this island for thousands of years before the British came. Their legacy lives on in the earth and at Julie Vanderhoop’s Orange Peel Bakery.

Julie is a Wampanoag tribal elder and a member of her town’s Board of Selectmen. Her feet are firmly planted in these two cultures and her bakery embodies that melding.

The Wampanoag lived off the land and the sea and with values that privileged respect and community. As Julie says, “it is community that will feed your soul.”

Step foot on the property and you can feel these values at work. A huge outdoor stone oven welcomes you with the scent of a campfire. Julie bakes pizza in the oven on Wednesday nights in the summer. Bring some beer, pull up a chair, eat communally or take the pizza home. Whatever you decide, it’s some of the best pizza you will ever eat.

Julie’s breads and pies had me oohing and aching. The bakery runs on the honor system; another way for her to bring to life the Wampanoag spirit of building strong community based on trust and caring for your fellow being.

In my mind, these Wampanoag values are the foundation of this island’s extraordinary community spirit.

2. Grace Episcopal Church on Friday nights: Lobster Rolls and Faith

Location: Vineyard Haven | Best for: Lobster rolls, chowder, old-school community

Churches, lots and lots of churches, anchored the various villages on Martha’s Vineyard throughout the 18^th and 19^th centuries.

John Sanders, an ex-slave turned pastor, brought the Methodist religion and its firebrand commitment to community and social justice to Martha’s Vineyard in the late 1700s.

Vineyard Haven, formerly known as Holmes Hole, was the working center of the island because it was - and is - the most accessible port on the island. Its large population attracted churches. The churches competed for parishioners and according to Bow, the Methodists, led by Sanders’ example, were the undisputed winners of the Church ratings game. They were the Elvis Presleys of their day - passionate, energetic, committed to community. Townspeople flocked to the churches to hear the Methodist preachers. The Congregationalists and Baptists? Not so much. They were the Pat Boones of their time: quiet rule-followers, pious without the pizzazz.

Fast forward: today, you can taste the legacy of churches as community centers every Friday night at the Grace Episcopal Church. Come for what many call the best lobster rolls on the island, chat with neighbors and enjoy the friendly vibe.

You’ll also find chowder, pie and hot dogs, served by volunteers and steeped in community spirit. Order online here, walk up on Friday night, or call 508-693-0332 by Thursday.

3. Farmers’ Market at Ag Hall: The heart of island agriculture every Wednesday and Saturday

Location: West Tisbury | Best for: Fresh produce, heritage, and that sheep-meets-sea feeling.

While the island lacks the convenience of Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods and Starbucks (to name my personal favorites), it overflows with farms that can be traced back, well, forever.

Farming and fishing were – and continue to be – the guts of the island. Whaling, too, but all that’s left of the whaling days are the stately homes the sea captains built.

Allen Farm, established in the late 1700s at the same time the Methodists were doing their thing, is the oldest, continually operating farm on the island. Jonathan Allen purchased land and built a farmhouse in 1770. The house is still standing. Records about who he purchased the land from and for how much are very sketchy, so you’ll have to imagine what that land deal might have been like. Today, sheep roam the property and the shop sells beautiful woolens.

In the mid-1800s, the Allens banded together with other local farms to create the Agricultural Society, because:

The Society built Agricultural Hall, an important site in the middle of the island. If you want to get a taste of all that the Vineyard produces from land and sea, visit the Wednesday and Saturday Farmers’ Markets at the Agricultural Hall in West Tisbury.

All the farms are there.

For a special treat, check out the scallops from the Martha Rose, a local scallop fishing boat. They are, IMHO, the best in the whole entire world.

4. Chili on the ferry: Comfort in a Cup.

Love ‘em and hate ‘em, the ferries were - and are - a critical part of island life, both the life-blood and life-line.

In the 18^th and 19^th centuries, the waterways around the island were teaming, the boat traffic comparable to Route 95 around Boston at rush hour. The ports, and especially Vineyard Haven (Holmes Hole) were truck stops for the crews.

In 1817, coal-burning, steam wheel-churching passenger boats arrived. These boats brought summer people and summer people brought money. With the summer people came the desire to build resorts. Oak Bluffs is the only MV town built to be a resort. which was the stimulus behind building Oak Bluffs, the only MV town built as a summer playground.

The Ro-Ro (meaning roll on-roll off) boats arrived in 1923. For the first time, cars could roll on and roll off the boat. Oh my goodness, that brought even more summer people! And their cars!

Nothing warms my soul on a Ro-Ro trip to or from the island like a cup of ferry-chili. Hot and spicy and full of beans and onions and a little burger, it’s the perfect comfort food.

Maybe, someday, the powers-at-be will re-brand the perfect taste treat “Ro-Ro Chili”.

5. Giordano’s and Homeport: where restaurants on the island began.

Locations: Oak Bluffs (Giordano’s) & Menemsha (Homeport) | Best for: Pizza and pasta at Giordano’s; lobster and other seafood at Homeport; old-school island vibes at both

The 1800s brought summer people, a mania for self-improvement and a desire for a more perfect world. Interest in wellness, lifelong learning, lectures and salons lured artists and playwrights and poets and novelists to the island. The beauty, the peace, the quiet, the light, the mood are a creative cocktail.

Sadly that creative cocktail had no public landing spot until the 1930s. That when the first restaurants - real ones, with menus and a wait staff - emerged on the island. Before that, taverns and inns served set fare to travelers, but places that focused on food and conversation were missing.

Giordano’s and Homeport are the two oldest-standing restaurants on the island. Giordano’s is the OG of Oak Bluffs: red sauce, pizza, family-style everything. Homeport, in Menemsha, brings seafood, sunsets, and lobster rolls, a feel of ocean breezes and the taste of summer freedom.

Bonus Stop: The Sweet Life (Literally).

Want a place that blends food, art, and the Vineyard’s long-standing obsession with self-improvement? Sweet Life Café in Oak Bluffs hosts intimate author dinners where the conversation is as nourishing as the meal.

Final Thoughts

Martha’s Vineyard is, and always has been, about faith and farming, the arts and, most of all, community. To understand the history, you could bury yourself in books. Maybe memorize a key date or two. But I were you, I’d follow the food. Because history isn’t something you learn from a textbook. It’s a story you can actually experience, one bite at a time.

For other stories about experiencing history, bite by bite, check out

Traveling through a wormhole in Monemvasia, Greece, gave me a chance to see, hear, taste, smell, and touch a bit of the past.

Cook and eat with locals when you travel! Tasting the history of Crete with Ozlam and Traveling Spoon.

I love your comments! Feedback! Requests! Leave any and all here!

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The Specifics:

Orange Peel Bakery
tel:+15086452025
682 State Rd, Aquinnah, MA 02535
julivanderhoop@gmail.com

Grace Church Lobster Nights
P O Box 1197
Vineyard Haven, MA 02568
(508) 693-0332

SteamShip Authority
Schedules available.

Giordanos
18 Lake Ave.
Oak Bluffs, MA 02557
508-693-0184Ho

Homeport
Menemsha, MA
508-645-2679

Agricultural Hall Farmer’s Markets
35 Panhandle Rd.
West Tisbury, MA
Wednesday and Saturdays, 9 - noon

Flash forward to this week when I got to check off a long-held bucket list item. I got to eat a meal, a late lunch, at NOPI, a Yotam Ottolengthi restaurant. Ottolenghi is an Israeli-born British superstar chef and cookbook author known for vegetable dishes that are layered in flavors. I am a huge fan of his cookbooks and wanted to try what I thought of as “the real deal.”

Turns out that Ottolenghi, himself, followed the vegan-snack-selling woman’s advice.

I was by myself in London and decided to eat at NOPI’s bar. The restaurant charmed me; it’s small and low key, with nicely spaced white-clothed tables and warm lighting.

The bartender explained that all the menu items are meant to be shared. As a solo diner, this strategy didn’t work for me. (Note to restaurants: Solo diners are people too! Please be flexible enough to portion for them.)

Ottolenghi is known for treating vegetables like royalty. His recipes tend to be flavor-forward, crave-worthy, a meld of ethnicity and spices that surprise.

My particular meal felt more like an overblown theatrical production for my mouth than actual food or nourishment. That slightly snarky comment aside, it definitely had its moments.

• Kimchi Arancini. It’s South Korea meets Italy, a weird concept and a bit of a weird starter. But I couldn’t resist, as I’m a big arancini fan and an even bigger kimchi fan. The arancini incorporates house‑fermented kimchi, infused directly into the rice mix—it’s a tangy‑spicy boost alongside the creamy interior. For me, the global intention was noble but the tastes didn’t quite come together. I missed the cheese!

• Aubergine (that’s eggplant) with lime achar, coconut flakes, black lime. This dish was a stand-out. The eggplant was smokey and perfectly cooked. There was a deep lime taste and the coconut flakes were low key and complementary.

• Char-grilled Asparagas with chickpea puree, preserved lemon toum (a creamy garlic sauce that includes the water from the chickpeas), and togarashi (a Japanese spice blend). While I loved the garlicy/lemony toum, the asparagus was undercooked, verging on raw and the togarashi reminded me of sushi.

And here’s the kicker (for me), I learned at the end that these complex dishes were totally vegan.

And like any other meal, I liked some parts of it and not others.

After the meal, I went to see Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, Final Reckoning.

The movie, like the meal, was ambitious, exciting and a bit overblown. I’m guessing, as time passes, watching Tom Cruise hang on to the side of an airplane flying at 8000 feet above a canyon will be more memorable than the meal.

Maybe if I had ordered the shrimp, I might have felt differently…..

Cost of the meal + 2 glasses of Prosecco: a hefty103 euros (about $118).

Cost of the movie: 12 euros ($18).

PS: The hall of mirrors in the ladies’ room, however, is worth the price of admission!

NOPI
21-22 Warwick Street
London W1B 5NE
020-7494 9584

Got an opinion? An idea? A suggestion? Leave a comment!!

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