Happy Independence Day, everyone.  Enjoy the holiday weekend.

And remember my Organic Valley giveaway? the one where the comments were broken?  It’s all fixed now, so comment away!  I’m extending the deadline to Wednesday, July 7 at noon central.

American flag photo at Pinecone Meadow Farm compliments of Janine MacLachlan, www. RusticKitchen.com. All rights reserved. If you enjoy this post, please consider subscribing tomy newsletter, or my feed. Or tweet with me!

Tomorrow is World Nutella Day.  Can you think of a happier celebration?

I’m posting a day early, because I just can’t wait.  And because tomorrow is reserved for my new favorite series, Farmer Friday.

Most people can find Nutella in their grocery store.  I have to resist because I can’t be trusted to have it in the house.  We all have our weaknesses.

Like many things delicious, Nutella began in Italy

Rather than whipping up a little something for you, I thought I’d exercise a little self control and reach back into my archives.  I’m sharing a recipe featuring the chocolate hazelnut flavor that’s a signature of Torino, site of the 2006 Winter Olympics and Slow Food’s Terra Madre, a bi-annual gathering of farmers.

The photo above is the Villa Cipressi in Varenna, Italy, on Lake Como.  A great place to spend a weekend after tireless tasting in Torino.

And this is my clean plate after a healthy breakfast of toast and Nutella.  When in Rome…

I came back from Italy loaded down with luscious, rich chocolate and hazelnut gianduja bars, with gorgeous wrappers suitable for framing.

And I was inspired to create a gelato recipe to remember the trip.

I hope you’ll find a way to enjoy this important international holiday.

If you enjoy this post, please consider subscribing to my newsletter, or my feed. Or tweet with me!  Photo compliments of Janine MacLachlan, www. RusticKitchen.com.  All rights reserved.

Sometimes it seems like a disconnect, all this eating for charity, indulging when others are hungry.  But I’m reminded again and again that restaurant people typically go into that business because they like to care for people, to nurture them.  And what better way than with food.  So it was great to get an invitation to an Epicurious dinner to support America’s Second Harvest and Michael Kornick’s MK.  And the menu focus was farm-to-table, my favorite way to eat.  So I broke out the credit card, made my reservation, and enjoyed a delightful evening with my friend Kristina.

The menu meandered from yellowtail tuna with a salad of greens, quail egg and potato, then on to duck breast with summer squash and chanterelles, finishing with a gorgeous cherry tart by darling pastry chef Amy Sampson.  The convivial, wine-infused evening ended with Kristina jotting down the must-taste list for an epicurious staffer, who was staying the weekend to check out Chicago’s food scene.  I’ll need that list for myself, I think, because I know for sure it includes Hot Doug’s, arguably the best place for encased meats.

And Epicurious will be back in Chicago on August 14  as part of their farmers market tour.  You can say hello at Daley Plaza.

Gourmet told me that Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher’s 100th birthday was earlier this month.  In celebration I dug out my copy of The Art of Eating, a compilation of much of her work. 

I turned to How To Cook A Wolf because it was written about how to eat well during wartime rations and shortages, and I was feeling the pinch at the gas pump and was drawn to it.  So much was about cooking several things at once to save on cooking fuel.  I felt lucky and a little sheepish to realize I really haven’t had to worry much about how much it costs to turn on the stove. 

But what really touched me is that she said that she writes about hunger because she is “hungry for love.”  And isn’t feeding each other a way to show each other love.  Somehow M.F.K. Fisher said it so much better than any of us. 

By the way, my six-degrees-of-separation story about MFK Fisher was one told by Chef John Ash when I was his student at the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone.  She spent much of her retirement in California’s wine country, and Chef had become acquainted with her somehow, and was invited to lunch.  She made a delicious whole-loaf sandwich that included layers and layers of butter.  She wrapped it up, and John was invited to sit on the sandwich while they visited outside.  Yes, that’s right, John sat on the sandwich.  After a while, the combination of weight and body heat made the creation extra delicious.  It’s funny how I remember so many things I learned during my time at CIA, but the best part was connecting with people who feel a deep connection to food.  As I say over and over again, it’s not just about the ingredients.

For my trip to Uruguay, I wanted to bring a host gift that represented where I come from, and certainly it had to be food.  I thought of the famous quote from Brilliat-Savarin, “tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.”  I’m a food enthusiast with a particular affection for southwest Michigan fruit.

 

Without any internal debate I went to the American Spoon store in Saugatuck, where I regularly go to stock up.  They use predominantly Michigan fruit, and since I live it orchard country it’s the perfect way for people who live thousands of miles away to get a taste for what it’s like here.

One of the reasons I decided to get a little farm in my southwest Michigan “neighborhood” was because of The Journeyman Cafe. And it seems I bought the property just in time. In the summer it was profiled in the Chicago Tribune’s travel section by restaurant critic Phil Vettel and just a few weeks ago it was named one of the best farm-to-table restaurants by Gourmet.

Chef Matthew Millar sends beautiful, hearty food out from the kitchen, and wife Amy Cook runs the front of the house. They’re always one of my first stops when I arrive so that I have bread from their wood-fired oven for sandwiches. They are proof positive that a chef doesn’t need fancy white tablecloths and an unlimited food budget to celebrate local food. A great spot to have just a few miles up the road.