My dad had to go to Vietnam for business, and I was lucky enough to be able to go with him.  When we were in Saigon (or Ho Chi Minh City), we got to take a cooking class at the Culinary Institute of Saigon. We made spring rolls, homemade tofu, egg drop soup and caramel chicken.  They use a lot of fish sauce! It was really cool to see how they put a special plant in the rice to make it scented. Yum!

When I was in 2nd grade, I was Chef for a Day at my elementary school.

Going to the Mariposa restaurant every Christmas vacation used to be one of our favorite traditions. We’d get all dressed up and I’d dust off my patent leather mary-janes for the occasion. I remember the first time that we got a chocolate snowball for dessert. It came in mini-version…dense and chocolatey cake with a hint of coffee peeking out from under big billows of whipped cream. When I was invited back into the kitchen one afternoon to check out how Letty Flatt, the pastry chef, did her magic I quickly rushed out to buy her cookbook and try my hand at her treats at home. I have to tell you that there is absolutely nothing that compares to Letty’s Chocolate Snowball during the long and pastry-free days of Passover. It’s really very easy to make at home, and so fabulously decadent.  My mouth is watering as we speak.

Last summer I was lucky enough to attend a taping of Ming Tsai’s show, Simply Ming. They tape the whole season of the show in only a few weeks at a kitchen showroom outside of Boston! What a cool experience to see all the hundreds of people who are behind a professional cooking show! Wow! On a whim I decided to make him a chocolate-cherry cake (I know it’s crazy, right?), one of my most favorite recipes that originally comes from an amazing restaurant in Hawaii.

cooking up homemade chocolate zabiaglione with the owner of Club A Steakhouse

Restaurant week is such a great time to be in NYC! And this summer, because of some extensions, there was Restaurant Month in the city! So, that is how I find myself in the Club A Steakhouse Restaurant at 9:45 on a hot July night. After a long drive from Boston, we met Aliza (who’s been living in the city for a month and interning for Mayor Bloomberg) and made our way to the restaurant. By the time our onion soup, salads and steaks (what else could you expect we’d order at a steakhouse?) had arrived, we had the restaurant to ourselves. The food was incredible, and we got to talking with the man who runs the restaurant. We told him that we were in the city for the weekend to meet with the editor-in-chief of Kiwi Magazine and immediately he insisted that I make my prize-winning zabaglione then and there. Everyone exchanged a “wait…what?” glance and then we all shrugged and supposed that we would just have to wait and see what he had in store for us. And oh what he had in store for us! Out came only the shiniest of giant copper pans and the freshest of eggs and the most perfect berries and we were in business. One large whisk and a bowl of chocolatey berries later, and I proudly presented my creation to the manager. It’s safe to say he was back for seconds.

wisking the chocolate zabiaglione tableside

Assembling the chocolate berry yumminess!

Da Vinci is probably my most favorite Italian resteraunt in the Boston area. Granted, you can imagine my delight when I found myself behind that wide open window that I have always admired, on a stormy Friday afternoon. Before we begin, I think it is appropriate to let you know that, in my opinion, there are few foods on this planet that I enjoy more than gnocchi that is made well. Given that piece of information, there is almost no food that I enjoy more than Chef Peppino’s gnocchi. To say that he’s good at what he does would be a humorous understatement.

So, here I find myself in the depths of Chef Peppino’s pristine kitchen. And, as expected, what I find is a giant sheet pan of crumbly cooked potato, and a whole lot of Italian double zero flour. No, really. All he puts in his gnocchi is olive oil, potatoes and flour. WHATTTT? I know, right? He’s amazing. Chef Peppino, in the flesh, appears and, donning one of his chef white jackets, we begin. Watch the video (!!!), Gnocchi Making at Da Vinci with Peppino and I swear it will feel like your own private tutorial with the Chef.

Now that was some good eats!

It’s a Friday afternoon in July and we’re driving in the car some place between New York and the Jersey Shore. And, out of the blue, a brilliant beyond brilliant idea comes to me.  Why don’t we stop in Hoboken, and go to that bakery on Cake Boss? And so after much punching into the GPS and driving over the very same bridge we just crossed, we find ourselves right smack in the center of Hoboken. And then we see the line. Oh, the line. My dad throws out what we’ve all been thinking. That better not be for that bakery. Oh and it was. Of course it was! I mean, who wouldn’t expect that people wouldn’t wait 4 hours to get a single Italian pastry from the infamous Carlo’s?

We parked and stood with our mouths catching flies in disbelief in front of the bakery at the start of the line. My father had to confirm this fact. He approached a man and his daughter that were standing right at the front. The little girl, 11, had a little autograph book that she quickly showed me See, I’ve got Mary’s! My father asked, incredulous, “Are all these people really waiting in line to get into THAT bakery?”  He gestured to the small, relatively non-descript and normal-looking building. Yes, sir. The man responded. We got here at 9. We quickly closed our mouths and tried to look normal.

We are NOT waiting, my father decided. But my mother had a conspiratorial look as she leaned over and whispered something into the man’s ear. He nodded. I guess that’s okay if it’s okay with the people behind us.  It was, and so I found myself all of a sudden a part of a family of two from Texas. You’re gonna be my new sister! the girl shouted a little over-enthusiastically. All of a sudden there were shrieks from all directions. A slightly crazed look crossed my new sister’s face. IT’S MARY!!! she shouted. Soon, her as well as 10 or so of the surrounding girls engulfed the black clad figure. But Mary brushed them away like paparazzi. When the girl returned to our group with a downtrodden look I felt a little annoyed at the woman.

Soon I found myself pressed up against 50 or so other people clambering around and pointing. I’ll have one of this and oh one of those and three of those and 6 cannolis. Frantic looks crossed many a parent’s face as they somehow tried to prove to themselves that that 3 hour wait really was worth it. I looked around at a seemingly normal Italian bakery and couldn’t help but feel like I had been somehow brushed up into the fantasy. Twenty minutes and one chocolate mousse cake later, I found myself reunited with my family, holding a box that was tied up with the same twine as Mike’s Pastry.

Now we’re gonna go over there, my dad decided firmly. And so that is how I found myself standing in the non-existent line at Crumbs Bakery and ordering cupcakes, to do a taste comparison.

And once again, my father asked the golden question. Why don’t you have a line as long as those guys across the street?