The great surprise of a recent three-day weekend in Prague, was the quality of some of the Czech wines. Usually, when we choose our travel destinations, quality of food is top of mind, but this time our primary motivation was to see the city, which is every bit as beautiful as people say.  We stayed at the Four Seasons and had a room with an incomparable view, overlooking the famous Charles Bridge and encompassing the historic castle. It was unseasonably cold and rainy, but we donned our raincoats and walked the cobble-stoned streets taking in the museum-quality buildings and the enchanting ambiance of this fascinating place.                                                                                                                                     It was a good thing our culinary expectations weren’t high because the opportunities to eat first-rate food were few and far between. Perhaps the food system suffered for too long under Soviet scarcity but if pride of place is reflected in Prague’s top-drawer cooking, I missed it.  The best restaurant by far is Allegra,  Italian-inspired and in the Four Seasons Hotel.  An elegant, fine-dining experience, it is considered by many to be the finest restaurant in Eastern Europe. Certainly, it is the only one to posses a Michelin star. But I really wanted to be dazzled by local specialties and came armed with information on a cutting-edge chef who was supposedly putting a contemporary spin on traditional Czech dishes. Unfortunately, on arrival, I discovered his restaurant had recently closed.  Instead we were directed to an establishment that visiting celebrities frequent along with the locals.  Alas, it delivered on every Czech food cliche. The food was heavy and flavorless and the meat was overcooked.  The traditional potato and wild mushroom soup seemed to be sweetened with sugar. However, the apple strudel in flaky philo pastry and sprinkled with fresh sweet walnuts was good.                                                                                                                                   On a quick perusal, it seemed to me that part of the problem is poor ingredients. I wasn’t in Prague long enough to get a good sense of the food scene, but I could tell from the taste of what I ate that the meats were not naturally-raised.  Nor did I have any confidence that they hadn’t travelled a great distance before being cooked….possibly an explanation for the heavy sauces that finish most dishes.  Only once did I see a reference to  free-range chicken on  a menu and many higher end restaurants advertised that they served Argentinian beef. I suspect there is a lot one could do with Czech classics, but a focus on producing quality ingredients would be a good first step to reviving the cuisine.                                                                                                   Perhaps because terroir has been traditionally associated with wine, we fared quite a bit better in this department.  Our best experience was while dining at Allegra, where the sommelier recommended the wines of Jaromir Gala and Jan Jerie, owners of the Gala Winery in Moravia.  Gala worked as a wine maker in Austria and Canada, as well as in  his homeland before opening the winery in September 2007.  Wine making is in his blood. Both his grand-fathers were wine makers, as was his father, whose career was curtailed by the Soviet regime. Ecological sensitivity in the age-old tradition of his ancestors characterize his approach.  We had the privilege of sampling two of his first offerings, a blend, primarily of Chardonnay and a Pinot Noir.  Both were excellent and bode well for the future of viticulture in the Czech Republic.  Let’s hope the food system takes note and follows suit.

To borrow from the country’s own advertising campaign, a visit to India is an incredible experience. I was on a three-and-a-half week culinary tour and my favorite image has nothing to do with food. Driving down the new superhighway (four lanes, divided) en route to Jaipur, I’m startled to see a flotilla of cart-pulling camels sailing down the opposite side of the road, noble heads erect, brilliant buck teeth leading the way.

India is known as a country of contrasts, the most obvious being
extraordinary wealth juxtaposed against horrifying poverty and deprivation. The day after my arrival I was invited to a luxurious 23rd-storey apartment in Mumbai for a splendid Sunday brunch. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a multi-million dollar view of the Arabian Sea. But in quintessentially Indian fashion, this vista was punctuated by the corrugated roofs of a makeshift town and the residents’ laundry spread out on the rocky shoreline to dry. Even the most elegant sophisticates live side by side with life at its most basic. Chauffer-driven cars are the norm for people of any means, but looking out the window as the world passes by, one will inevitably see a man relieving himself at the side of the road. If navigating camels are my favorite image of India, the most common was the back of a male figure, availing himself of an open-air loo.

Still, I loved the country, which among its many assets, has a rich and dramatic history. Exploring India’s gastronomic heritage was the focus of my trip, which officially began in New Delhi. We were a group of ten, including our leader, esteemed cookbook author and teacher of Indian cooking, Suneeta Vaswani. The evening before the tour officially began, four of us, following Suneeta’s advice, headed out to try dum pukth cusine at the city’s Maurya Sheraton. In India, many of the country’s finest restaurants are located in hotels and this particular establishment has two of the best: Dum Pukht and Bukhara.

As the author of slow cooker cookbooks, I was particularly keen to sample dum pukt cooking, which originated in the sixteenth century and reflects India’s Mughal heritage. Basically, it’s an Indian form of braising. The food is cooked in a clay pot and sealed with a flour and water paste. The results represent the best of slow cooking –highly seasoned vegetables and aromatic, melt-in-your-mouth meat. Our chicken dish was billed as “resplendent” –like much of Indian culture, a bit over the top but a not entirely inaccurate description.
The same hotel also houses Bukhara, considered by some to be one of the finest Indian restaurants in the world. (While there is no doubt the food is delicious, having eaten my way from north to south, I could easily compile a list of potential rivals.) Its style of cooking is at the opposite end of the spectrum from Dum Pukht. Most of the food is grilled or baked in a high-heat tandoor oven and represents the height of north Indian cuisine. There is an abundance of highly seasoned meat. (At another location we had a cooking demonstration of tandoori lamb kebabs and the spicing consisted of garam masala powder, Kashmiri chile, green chillies and red chile paste, among other ingredients.) It’s not unlikely that saffron, which is grown in Kashmir, will also contribute to the flavor. Bukhara’s leg of lamb, braised in what appeared to be a thick tomato-onion sauce, is legendary and particularly succulent. Here naan, which crossed the border from Afghanistan, is a natural accompaniment. Like most North Americans, I considered naan to be an “Indian” bread. In fact, it is an import that has taken hold in some parts of India, particularly in the northern regions.

Suneeta was a wonderful guide, who always went the extra mile to ensure we understood what we were eating and its place in the regional continuum. Her Complete Book of Indian Cooking: 250 Recipes from the Regions of India, explores many of these differences, some of which we could see for ourselves at the cooking demonstrations she organized for us. To oversimplify, in very general terms, as you move from north to south, the emphasis shifts from meat and whole grain breads to fish, seafood, coconut and rice.

As the author of a whole grains cookbook, the prevalence and variety of whole grain breads in the northern parts of country surprised and interested me. Chappati, which is made from whole wheat flour, is the only Indian bread I’ve ever made but in India there are many other whole grain options, which often include the addition of a pulse, such as dal. In some locations, there is an interesting griddle corn bread, made from something closely resembling yellow grits. In season, this is served with sautéed mustard greens, a delicious combination I first sampled in Jaipur. Roti is made from a combination of whole wheat and chickpea flour and moongri is made from millet flour and partially cooked yellow mung beans and rice. In the south, the breads are often made from rice flour and lightly leavened with toddy, the mildly fermented sap of the coconut palm. At one demonstration I even watched dough, leavened solely by the enzymes in raw milk, rising before my eyes.

In most of India cows are sacred, so they and their products are somewhat ubiquitous. The pervasiveness of delicious home-made yogurt is one result. For me it was a wonderful treat. Virtually every meal included raita, the yogurt-based condiment that is consumed to balance the heat in incendiary chile-rich dishes. But I was surprised to discover the prevalence of yogurt at the breakfast buffets that launched our mornings. Fruit flavored (the mango version was particularly luscious) or plain with honey was the norm but sometimes we’d be offered baked yogurt, a particularly mouthwatering treat, made from water buffalo milk. Lassi, the seasoned yogurt drink, served either salty, or sweetened and mixed with fruit puree, was also widely available. It makes a very refreshing and nutritious snack.
No culinary trip would be complete without at least one new food experience. For me, that was the dosa, a thin crepe-like pancake made from a slightly fermented rice and lentil batter, which I first tasted in Mumbai. Although the dosa originated in the South, it is now available throughout India and it soon became one of my breakfast favorites. I quickly developed an affinity for the potato filling, which resembles the one used in vegetable samosas. Dosas are usually served with a selection of chutneys, including a particularly luscious coconut version.

Since my return, a number of people have asked me to define the highlight of the trip. It’s difficult to choose a single place or event because there were so many wonderful experiences and each was distinctive. However, I was surprised by the difference between the North where the cities are crowded and the poverty is blatant (the stereotypical image of India) and the Southern state of Kerala, the location of the legendary Malabar coast. Kerala is still the heart of India’s spice trade. It is here that tellicherry pepper, reputed to be the world’s best, is grown. We visited a large pepper plantation and watched the plants being picked by men who climbed the stalks using bamboo ladders, which looked very precarious. In addition to pepper, there are tea plantations and mixed farms growing a variety of spices such as cardamom, cinnamon and cloves. Except for Cochin, its major city, the state is quite rural. It has a high literacy rate (around 93%) and is relatively clean and uncrowded.

Kerala is known for its lush mountains and seemingly endless backwaters, which at certain times of the year are chockablock with water hyacinths (pretty, but a transportation menace.) From a base in Kumarakom, a resort area on the edge of Vembanad Lake, we visited Philipkutty’s farm, a small island of land reclaimed from the backwaters, where the family operates an organic farm that produces coconuts, bananas and spices, such as nutmeg and vanilla. I was fascinated to watch the vanilla pods being hand-pollinated and enjoyed the cooking demonstration by the women of the family, Anu and her mother-in-law Aniamma. The lavish lunch represented the best of Keralan cuisine.

An overnight trip by houseboat is one of the best ways to explore the Keralan backwaters. Comfortably ensconced on deck, while the world drifted by at a languid pace, we soon became attuned to the slow moving rhythms of village life. As the sun began to set, we cracked open a bottle of Blue Ribbon, the local gin. (A great discovery –very cheap but mild and smooth according to the connoisseur among us, who drank his neat.) By the second gin and tonic, tranquility set in. That night we dined under a night sky bursting with stars. Rising in the morning and watching the sunrise over the lagoon-like waters was equally enchanting.

While every place we visited offered unique experiences, if
I had to pick one city as a favorite it would be Kochi (formerly known as Cochin) the historical center of the spice trade. The old city has the slightly seedy charm of an ancient hub, its shoreline framed by the romantic vision of Chinese fishing nets, dreamily rising and falling into the sea. These romantically vaulted wood and bamboo structures were supposedly introduced to the area by Chinese fishermen in the 14th century and are still in use. Fishermen sell some of their catch along the beach.

Cochin is home to a significant population of Syrian Christians who trace their lineage back to the beginnings of Christianity when St. Thomas, one of the apostles, arrived in the area. The Christian presence in Kerala was strengthened in the fifth and sixth centuries with the exodus of Syrian Christians from the Middle East. Nimmy Paul, a member of this community, is a cooking instructor who conducts classes focusing on Syrian Christian cuisine in her home. For the most part the dishes intersect with Keralan cuisine: Fish cooked in spice paste, stir-fried okra and an abundance of curry leaves, which are ubiquitous in southern India. Nimmy has a good eye for tableware and cooks and serves some dishes in traditional earthenware pots, which inspired “dish lust” among several members of our group.

I could continue, but I think this captures some key features of the trip. I strongly believe that anyone who loves food and exploring the history and culture surrounding it would enjoy India. Food is a universal language and a culinary tour is the closest an outsider is likely to come to experiencing the country like a native.

Read my article on urban farming in Toronto (as envisioned by Michael Ableman) in the winter 2008/09 issue of Edible Toronto.  It’s the topic everyone is talking about these days and it’s much more than backyard gardening.  Here’s the link:www.edibletoronto.com/content/pages/articles/win08/urbanFarming.pdf <http://www.edibletoronto.com/content/pages/articles/win08/urbanFarming.pdf>  

Despite unseasonably cold and rainy weather, I thoroughly enjoyed a recent jaunt through western Canada that included stops at some of the region’s culinary hot spots. As uncooperative as it was, the cranky climate was redeemed by a virtually uninterrupted stream of fabulous food, not to mention wine. It warmed the cockles of a locavore’s heart.

Things got off to a low-key but distinctive start in BC’s lush Cowichan vally, a hotbed of organic farms, artisanal food producers and burgeoning wineries, about a forty-five minute drive north of Victoria. We were a group of six, headed to Fairburn Farm, a “culinary retreat and guesthouse” near Duncan B.C. Fairburn is home to Canada’s first herd of water buffalo and I was almost as excited by the domestic animal aspect of the experience as its potential gastronomic delights. These personable creatures are adorable and looking into their deep soulful eyes, ignited my never-completely-repressed fantasies of owning a farm.

Although the weather dampened (no pun intended) our enthusiasm for exploring the valley, compensation came in the form of cocktail hour in front of a roaring fire. The rustic living room is very cozy. Views of an exquisitely pastoral landscape peep through the windows and it’s the perfect setting to sink into a sofa with a comforting glass of champagne. Since Fairburn Farm is a BYOB establishment, we arrived with an abundance of wine (and some spirits) to ensure our pairings would do justice to our seven-course dinner. Chef Mara Jernigan didn’t disappoint, providing the ultimate farm-to-table dining experience, from house-made charcuterie to squeaky-fresh asparagus served with the farm’s own buffalo mozzarella.  The melt-in-your-mouth pasta, made by hand on site, was served with yellow tomato sauce, fresh spinach and local scallops, the meat course was the farm’s own lamb and dessert included fennel ice cream made by Mara’s son, Julien.

The next morning, after feasting on a hearty farm-fresh breakfast, we were off to Sooke Harbour House, via Victoria.  While Italian food is probably not the first thing that comes to mind when contemplating the culinary delights of Vancouver Island, it is the home of Peter Zambri, an acclaimed chef who cooks some of the best Italian food I’ve eaten anywhere in his eponymous restaurant, Zambri’s. Peter’s specialty is light, simple and slightly rustic food featuring fresh local ingredients. It’s easy to miss Zambri’s, because like its chef and co-owner, (his business partner is his sister, Jo), the restaurant is extremely unpretentious, even though it has won prestigious awards and glowing reviews.

Seasonality has always been integral to good Italian cooking, so it was quite in keeping to be greeted with a huge platter of just harvested spot prawns in a luscious tomato sauce. Simply splendid, it was a great way to start the meal.  Peter’s house-made charcuterie is also to-die-for and we enjoyed some fabulous sausages, followed by crispy grilled asparagus. The restaurant has an excellent wine list, nicely balanced between Italian and BC wines. As we departed, they were waiting for the arrival of a locally-made gin.

If you enjoy superb food and wine in an environment that envelops you with pampering and the sense of having escaped from it all, Sooke Harbour House may make you think you’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s my second visit to this  “romantic little white inn by the sea” and I plan to return as often as I can. Owners Sinclair and Frederique Philip were pioneer environmentalists and have always been at the forefront of the Island’s emerging locavore culture. It’s soul-satisfying to stay at a place that is so luxurious yet qualifies as a poster location for the principles of sustainability.

Although I still have many places to visit and restaurants to enjoy, in my opinion, the wine and food at Sooke Harbour House is among the best in the world, an opinion that’s shared by hospitality arbiters such as Gourmet magazine, Travel and Leisure and the Wine Spectator who has honored the inn with its highly selective Grand Award, an tribute shared with less than one hundred other restaurants in the world. I never drink anything but BC wines when I’m there because they have the best examples, those that never travel farther than the provincial borders. The food is all locally sourced, either grown in their own gardens or by area farmers and the seafood and fish is freshly caught in local waters.

While I always enjoy good locally-grown ingredients, I’ve now eaten in more than a few restaurants that hide behind the locavore mantra to cloak uninspired presentation. This is certainly not the case at Sooke. Chef Edward Tuson really knows how to cook. He also knows how to delight his audience with charming bits of whimsy that punctuate the menu such as daylilly flowers, gooseneck barnacles and nodding onion oil, not to mention prized. foraged items such as pine mushrooms and various kinds of seaweed, all of which are quite delicious.

This time I didn’t take the seaweed “field trip” under the tutelage of  Diane Bernard, aka “the seaweed lady” because I did it on my previous visit and thoroughly enjoyed every minute.  It’s fascinating to hike across the beach at low tide listening to her informed presentation on the various examples of this unusual food, which cling to rocks or sprout from bits of flotsam, such as old logs. Seaweed is extremely nutritious and Diane is a leader in promoting it as a food product, which she sells to local chefs. Because of her enthusiasm, it is now turning up on menus across the island.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end.  We had a great hike up the coast, experienced a mamma bear and her baby crossing the road, and I managed to finish a good book in front of the fire, before departing for Vancouver and points east.

The story of Red Fife, a heritage variety of wheat that some historians credit for the opening of the North American West, is an inspirational tale. Twenty years ago the grain was virtually extinct. Today, it is enjoying an exuberant renaissance as the darling of artisanal bakers and chefs across North America. Read my article on this amazing grain in the summer 2008 issue of Edible Toronto: I ONCE WAS LOST, BUT NOW AM FOUND : The Legacy of David Fife.

www.edibletoronto.com/pages/articles/sum2008/pdfs/iOnceWasLost.pdf

Here’s the article’s link:  <http://www.edibletoronto.com/pages/articles/sum2008/pdfs/iOnceWasLost.pdf>

After a weekend of great eating, including a perfect Arctic char, grilled at home, I’m borrowing from author Calvin Tompkins and reflecting, once again, that eating well is the best revenge.

On Friday, a friend who works in Toronto’s King-Parliament area, or “Corktown” as it’s being re-christened, invited me to sample the wares at Jamie Kennedy’s new eatery, Gilead Café (4 Gilead Place; 647-288-0680).  It’s an industrial space – nothing fancy, just the anteroom to Kennedy’s new catering kitchen – but the place was really hopping.  And why wouldn’t it be? The area is a gastronomic abyss and Kennedy’s arrival is an exciting event for those who would like to become accustomed to running out for exquisite nibbles on a whim.

At the outset, I should probably confess to a bias: I’ve always been in love with the idea of eating first- rate food in less-than- auspicious surroundings. To me it firmly establishes excellent food as a non-negotiable pleasure, one that doesn’t require pretentious accessories in order to be enjoyed. One of my favorite restaurants in the world is Fishy Fishy, located in the town of Kinsale on Ireland’s south coast, near Cork.  When I visited, it served fabulous fish in a setting not entirely unlike Gilead. Industrial tables and chairs were jammed in around the take-out and fresh fish counter. (The restaurant component has since moved to a more auspicious location.) People started lining up for lunch 45 minutes before the doors opened and, as line-averse as I am, I was happy to be among them.

At Gilead Café, the lines are still inside but the sense of workaday chic prevails. There is a blackboard menu, listing soups, sandwiches, salads and Kennedy’s iconic fries with mayo.  Somewhat reluctantly, we gave the fries a pass and savored a potato and whitefish salad, a wild leek tart and a selection of sheep’s milk cheeses from Montforte Dairy. While all hit the spot, the tour de force was dessert: A panna cotta made with sheep milk’s yogurt and seasoned with cardamom. It was a perfect combination of texture and flavor, rich luscious sheep’s milk balanced with acid and sweetly pungent cardamom.  I could eat one now.

Sunday morning we headed up north to enjoy Eigensinn Farm’s annual Maple Syrup and Wild Leek Festival, staged by Michael Stadtlander and a panoply of his chef friends, including Jeff Crump of the Ancaster Old Mill, Adam Colquhoun of Oyster Boy, Mark Cutrara of Cowbell, and none other than Jamie Kennedy, who played short-order cook in the forest, serving up scrumptious farm fresh eggs on a bad of rosti, topped with wild leeks.

It was a gorgeous day, sunny but not too hot and except for the traffic jam on the 400, a perfect excursion.  After the traffic stress and the short hike to the farm’s back 40, where the plethora of smoking grills under the forest canopy kept bugs at bay, ice cold oysters from PEI”s Colville Bay really hit the spot. No matter what anyone says, when it comes to oysters, I don’t think you can beat a good Canadian Malpeque and these are, quite simply, the best. In addition to the eggs with rosti, there was an abundance of succulent pork served in a variety of ways: spit roasted with mouthwatering cracklin, wrapped in tortillas with a wild leek sauce or as sausage on a bed of red cabbage. (I didn’t ask because to be frank, I’m still a bit squeamish about such matters, but assumed the pork was sourced from Michael’s Red Wattle Pigs, some of which were busy foraging up the road.) Elk in a cone of mashed potatoes with a red wine and maple syrup sauce was a great hit, as were the morels in cream sauce. For dessert, we enjoyed beignet with maple sugar and a kind of rhubarb coulis, although I don’t know what Michael actually called it.  It was a perfect way to pass the day and even the traffic was kind on the way home.

Back from a ten-day sojourn in Louisiana, I can’t stop talking about a perfect B & B, Maison Madeleine, just south of Breaux Bridge, in the heart of Cajun country. Steps from the shores of Lake Martin and the departure point for world-class swamp tours (I actually found myself wondering if the huge sleepy alligators languidly sunning themselves were Disney World papier mache until one slapped its tale and slid into the water), the exquisitely restored Creole Cottage (c. 1840) is also within easy walking distance of the Lake Martin bird sanctuary, a haven for nature lovers. Not only is hostess Madeleine Cenac extraordinarily gracious, she has pitch-perfect taste, and produces fabulous breakfasts, featuring the farm-fresh eggs laid by her personable chickens.  If you’re in the neighborhood, this is the place to stay. maisonmadeleine.com

Although it lacked the unique charm of Maison Madeleine, the Big Easy accommodation at the Loews New Orleans Hotel was also first-rate. This former bank building, re-done to reference the city’s West Indian heritage, offers particularly spacious suites and rooms, many with a bird’s eye view of the bustling Mississippi River. From the moment of check in, staff makes a point of greeting you by name.

In fact, a deep sense of Southern courtesy defined this visit, much more so than when I last visited in 2001.  The city has survived “the Storm”, as locals call it – one day and one person at a time –with very little help from anyone, particularly the various levels of government. In that process, they seem to have accepted that their fate is in their own hands. As a result – to an outsider at least and one who didn’t venture much beyond the French Quarter and Central Business District – they have really built their sense of community.

Store clerks, cab drivers, restaurant staff –everyone I came in contact with as a tourist was more than willing to go the extra mile in a way I’ve rarely experienced anywhere in the world.    Tourism is the lifeblood of the city and the people understand that their future depends upon the individual travelers and convention delegates that come to savor New Orleans’ unique offerings. The music, food and architecture provide the stage, but the people know that moving forward they play the crucial role in the city’s eventual success. And if my experience is any standard, they are doing a great job.

Speaking of food –oh my, so many wonderful restaurants and so little time. Still, I did manage to enjoy a few great meals and excellent bottles of wine.  Naturally, there are a few indigenous delights every visitor should try –muffuletta and po’ boy sandwiches immediately come to mind.   In case you didn’t know, muffuletta is layered salami and other Italian meats and cheeses, topped with an olive salad and served on crusty Italian bread. Although a little goes a long way, if you’re going to go for it, sample the wares at the Quarter’s Central Grocery, a local institution for over a hundred years.  Po’ boys, supposedly developed by restaurateurs sympathetic to striking transit workers in 1925, generally consist of deep-fried (this cooking technique is ubiquitous throughout Louisiana), meat, seafood or vegetables on soft-centered French bread. My favorite version is at Acme Oyster and Seafood House, an oyster and shrimp version that begs for a plate of grilled oysters as an accompaniment. The hustle and bustle atmosphere is authentically gritty New Orleans.

There are many great places to eat in New Orleans and I certainly did my best to try them all. My spirit was willing, but my body was weak so here are the highlights.

Couchon, a rustic Cajun-inspired restaurant in the warehouse district, certainly justifies all the buzz.  If you can’t get to any other restaurant in the city, this is the one to visit.  Chef Donald Link (of famed Herbsaint) grew up in Cajun country and, in partnership with Stephen Stryjewski, features dishes reminiscent of these rural roots. Having diligently eaten my way around Cajun country I can say without the slightest doubt, the food is way better here. Fortunately, I dined with six other “foodies” so we ordered one of almost everything on the menu and passed the plates.  What a great experience it was, washed down with a very nice Cote du Rhone. Country ham with fresh lima beans, pork with turnips and real cracklins, deep-fried alligator, wood-fire roasted oysters, pork ribs with waterrmelon pickle and soft –shell crab. Just writing about it makes me want to return for an encore. Although I’m not as committed to nose-to-tail eating as some of my friends, the fried rabbit liver was a huge hit with just about everyone else.

La Provence, a splendid field-to-table restaurant, which isn’t even in New Orleans, but in Lacombe, an hour north of the city. It was purchased by celebrity chef John Besh in 2007, with a view toward having his friend and colleague Rene Bajeux run it.   Chef Rene grows and raises much of what is on the menu himself, from Berkshire pork to freshly laid eggs, and heirloom beets. There is a smokehouse on site and, house-made charcuterie will soon have pride of place on the menu. www.laprovencerestaurant.com

John Besh’s New Orleans flagship August was another highlight. It has a great wine list, impeccable service, and interesting offerings such as lemonfish, a Louisiana specialty, which is a dense fish, reminiscent of monkfish. A salad of luscious heirloom beets (I also enjoyed a slightly different version at La Provence) spiked with Allan Benton’s cherry wood bacon and topped with quail eggs is also worth mentioning.

In my opinion, every trip should offer at least one real surprise.  No one wants to be a know-it-all resting on their laurels. So I was particularly pleased to discover there are actually people in Louisiana who are serious about making wine. Taking the idea of terroir to its ultimate destination Pontchartrain Vineyards, just north of Covington, about an hour north of the city, is producing very respectable white table wines from Blanc du Bois grapes. (How perfect is that, Blanche?) The vines grow 125 feet above sea level and reflect co-owner John Seago’s interest in producing wines that will compliment Louisiana’s strong food culture.  They are also producing some reds at the winery, but I wasn’t able to taste them.

Coming soon.