Visit to Copia
11th March, 2003
Our whirlwind started quietly enough. I was sitting at my computer, checking my email, tapping out observations and recipes, heading into the kitchen every so often to whip up at little bit of this, a little bit of that. I was putting finishing touches on a book, scribbling a few columns, and planning my calendar for the next six or so months.
My Inbox lit up and I downloaded: Would I like to come to Copia, to a food conference? I hadn't planned to. But the letter was so nice, so sweet, and clearly from a really nice person, I thought: why not?
"But I'm in Europe," I tapped back.
"Don't worry," she wrote. "I think we can manage something."
As American Airlines was the official sponsor for the Food as Power conference at Copia, I was pretty soon en route. (though to my distress it was economy class — not that I was ungrateful, I was really really really grateful, but still, a girls gotta dream. And it seems we're never as important as we think we might be.)
And so, my first stop was New York: I had to make brunch. My daughter, Leah, and I have an agreement: she needs a party or a brunch, she calls me and I'm on the next plane. So far the parties have been great. Her friends are wonderful, and all good little eaters. Being resident doctors, they are always working, working, working, and are very appreciative of a good meal.
Her boyfriend is my webmaster, Jonathan. Email him if you need a website. I often marvel at how at home in cyberland Jon is; in fact, he knows the World Wide Web so well I think he should lead tours.
Back to New York. When I visit, I try to dazzle them all. Here is our brunch menu (Jonathan is a vegetarian): Steamed mushrooms in reduced mushroom "jus" with a dribble of olive oil; a big huge crisp hashed brown pancake; truffled sundried tomato dip (daughters idea, inspired by a recent restaurant dinner), a snowy white fresh cheese mixture with chopped shallots, garlic, white wine and chives; roasted asparagus with parmesan (March's Recipe of the Month), toasted pain poilane (which I surprisingly and happily stumbled across in a shop on the Upper East Side); Oeufs en Meurette (poached eggs with delicious red wine sauce), a big fruit salad of whatever exotic and fresh I could gather in the Gramercy Park region. ("What's in season?" I asked Leah when planning the menu. "It's New York," she replied despondently. "Nothing is ever in season.")
I also made a big, buttery pear and almond paste tart.
Anyhow, I digress. I am meant to be speaking about the Copia trip to Napa.
First of all, let me tell you about the hotel, the Napa River Inn. Built in a refurbished warehouse, an old brick structure that was scheduled to be torn down but was happily redeveloped (and in such a tasteful manner). An historic room, with an historic bathtub and historic antiques — a big room, a room that radiated good taste and genteel comfort. I was to be there for four days, and I was so happy in my room, that I thought they would have to remove me with a crowbar. It was going to be difficult to make my way to real life after my stay there. In fact, the Napa River Inn was so lovely that after about an hour I rang my husband in Britain and said: Come out here, the hotel is so great you're gonna love it!
The next day he was on that airport shuttle from SFO up to Napa.
We loved the toiletries, winey/berry- scented and smoothly comforting, we loved the huge bathrooms with the antique tub and double shower, the tapestry chairs with the big ottoman that are gathered around the fireplace — it's not as if I had never been in a nice hotel before, I'll have you know, I stay in some very nice hotels all over the world, but this one was just so very cossetting. And classy, too.
Downstairs were several restaurants that had been recommended: Angéle (for its onion soup, burger, and various french goodies) and Celedon ("you must try the mango and beef salad" someone in the street told me when I asked for directions). Breakfast was served at the Sweetie Pie Café downstairs, which was pretty delicious: a truly refreshing fruit and yogurt parfait that (unlike others) was not sweet — just fresh and fruity. I hate overly sweet in the morning. And the croissant sandwich was — well, here's the thing: maybe I have lived in Europe for too long, but I can't stand to have a croissant made into a sandwich. Especiallly not such a really good croissant such as this one. So here's what I did: took the egg and bacon out, ate it separately, and enjoyed one of the best croissants I could hope to find anywhere, including Paris!
But let's see, I'm meant to be speaking about the trip to Copia for the "Food as Power" conference. The conference was good, lots of people, a number of people giving talks that I had previously met at the Oxford Food Symposium. Things to think about, to mull over, lots of interesting ideas and people — oh, and one or two absolute nutcases which always adds that je ne sais quoi, like a tasty condiment. (After one particularly annoying talk by a nationally famous writer the journalist next to me leaned over and confided: "She really chapped my butt." He was from Texas; I couldn't have expressed it better myself).
Les Blank gave a wonderful presentation that involved his films; and Margaret Braun of Sugar Craft dazzled us with slides of her magificent pieces of art that she calls cakes. They are cakes, yes, but they stretch the definition of cake... they are structures, they are dreams and ideas and fantasies of sugar. Vertamae Grosvenor charmed us with a music-accompanied reading and there was a play acting out the firing of a waiter in New Orleans. Called the Galatoires Monologues, words don't do justice to it; but do catch it at a theatre near you. Or failing that, go to New Orleans, I'm sure you can find other things to do while you're there (like eat and drink yourself silly).
The trip continued, from party to party, from visit to visit, friends and family, oh yes and a bit of work here and there... but I'm going to stop this letter here. How much time do I have to write it? How much time to you have to read it?
And I'll end with two of the little recipes I prepared for brunch: But first let me say this:
Write to me when you have a chance and let me know if you've tried the recipes, what you like best about this website, or if there is anything you'd like to know, etc. Actually, you can ask me anything — but if it's about cooking and food I'm more likely to know the right answer.
xxxmarlena
Garlicky Snowy White Cheese Spread
Though this little white cheese spread is typically Burgundian, I've come across it time after time in the Loire, served as part of an appetizer or little amuse bouche, the little morsels that just come to your table, free and unbidden. My favourite was a little dab of this in a tiny egg cup topped with a soft boiled quail egg and a sprinkling of chives.
Serve the cheese with thinly sliced toasted pain levain, or soft baguette, or raw vegetables. It lasts up to a week, tightly covered, in the refrigerator. If you have a piece of cheesecloth, place the cheese mixture in it and suspend it from the top of the container; the mixture will get firmer and firmer as the week progresses and the liquid drips out. No longer fluffy, it will now be very spreadable and more dense in texture.
- 10–12 oz. (280–340g) fromage frais or a mixture of half ricotta cheese and half sour cream
- 2–3 Tbsp. soft, unsalted butter at room temperature
- 1–2 cloves garlic, chopped finely
- 2 Tbsp. chopped chives
- 2 Tbsp. chopped parsley
- 1/2 tsp. chopped fresh tarragon, or more to taste, or a pinch of dried tarragon
- 1–2 Tbsp. dry white wine
- 1/2–1 fresh shallot, minced
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
With a fork or in a food processor whip together the cheese and butter, then add the garlic and mix well. Mix in the chives, parsley and tarragon, then beat in the white wine and minced shallot; season with salt and pepper. Cover with plastic wrap and chill until ready to serve.
Leah's Sun-Dried Tomato Dip
We had this truffled at the brunch. In California I made it with pesto instead. Both are delicious.
- 3 oz. (85g) soft and supper sundried tomatoes, cut into thin strips
- 1 small basket cherry tomatoes
- 1/2–3/4 c. extra virgin olive oil
- Salt and pepper as and if needed
- A few drops of truffle oil, black or white
With a food processor, whirl the sundried tomatoes with the fresh tomatoes until they form a smooth paste.
While the machine is still whirling add the olive oil, a few tablespoons at a time, until it is absorbed and emulsified, then add a bit more. Continue until the paste is a dip consistency. Season to taste with salt, pepper, and truffle oil.
If it separates when you serve it, whirl it again, or just stir it zestily.
Pesto Sundried Tomato Dip
I made this at our friend Jan's house. Jan has the most excellent poodle on this planet, Remington. He was desperate to have a few nibbles of this dip; don't tell Jan but Remy and I shared a few little tomatoey toasts.
- 3 oz. (85g) soft and supple sundried tomatoes, cut into thin strips
- 5 cloves garlic, chopped
- About 6 ripe tomatoes, diced, or 1 small basket cherry tomatoes
- 1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil, more if and as needed
- 4–5 Tbsp. pesto
- 1 teaspoon or to taste, balsamic vinegar
- Salt and pepper to taste
Whirl the sundried tomatoes until they are finely chopped, then add the garlic and whirl again. When it forms a paste, start whirling the the olive oil, a few tablespoons at a time, until the mixture forms a saucelike emulsion.
Add the pesto, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper to taste and serve with toast fingers and raw vegetables for dipping and spreading. If it separates before serving, give it a strong stirring then set it out.
Recipes © Marlena Spieler 2003