Taste of Derby

When the Kentucky Derby Festival added the Taste of Derby to the festivities the already unique line-up of steamboat races and waiter races, we really hit the superfecta. What took so long to come up with this concept? We've got a starting gate full of America's elite in the small city of Louisville that holds its own in cuisine with all other cities, so why not showcase our love and understanding of all things culinary?



When I heard who all was coming to the Taste of Derby I knew this would be an event that I could not miss. As I pulled up to the parking lot, by-passing the red carpet valet line, I started to feel the excitement in the air. The Mellwood Arts Center was a perfect venue for the event, and as I walked in to where most of the revelry was taking place, there were house appetizers like a cucumber slice with a pocket shaved out and filled with barbecued bison. what an inventive bight that set the tone for the upcoming tastes. Flowing deeper into the event I was given a nice piece of glass stemware from the vineyard in Chile that was sponsoring the event. What else to do except fill it with some chardonnay to arouse the taste buds. My dad is friends with Michelle Bernstein and since she was the biggest star chef there, I went straight to her booth. We chatted for a few minutes about Miami cuisine and the restaurant business, as she is the authority on that subject. What an extremely nice person to be given such a successful run. The way the event was set up was: Give 12-15 regional and national chefs a large booth to hand out one or two bight dishes to the glamorous crowd as they promote their restaurant and the progression of food in general. Each booth had an LCD flatscreen flashing between the chef on display, and the dish they were preparing. Michelle had a medium sized gulf coast shrimp, de-veined and relief cut to make it lay flat, with heat provided by a mexican pepper and garnished with three pieces of a semi-sweet popcorn; popcorn shrimp reborn. My first taste of Michelle's culinary creation solidified my pre-conceived notion of her talent. The shrimp were excellent.



As we rounded the corner, we came to the New York City representation, Tribeca Grill of the Myriad Group was handing out their dishes with smiles and hearty welcomes. The Commanders' Palace was in the courtyard handing out turtle soup and Ouita Michel of Kentucky's own Holly Hill Inn was producing a burgoo ensemble. Anthony Lamas of Seviche had prepared a seviche bight on a wooden spoon and was very fresh. Sullivan University had a station in the courtyard that was a run-off between two students to receive tickets to the derby. Both were very good dishes, especially the cornbread and brisket. Chef Allen Akmon does wonders with this university and his students all have great things to say about him. I did not have any bights that I did not like and as I was leaving to meet friends at Fourth Street for the Luke Bryan concert I was very glad I decided to attend the first annual Taste of Derby and vowed next year to make it the main event instead of a precursor on the night.

Cumberland Island

Perhaps it was the sun filtering through the live oaks. The dappled, dancing shadows on the dusty, sandy roads. Perhaps it was the stillness of noon, barely a sound in the thick woods. Perhaps it was the smell of a fire, burning the last remnants of winter's scorn. Perhaps and most significantly, it was the puttering sound of a small tractor that made me think of home. All the memories of my childhood ricochet around me. On this remote island, amongst the ruins of a sophisticated, wealthy world, I paused, prodding myself to look deeply into my imagination. Did a little girl live in that huge house? Did she pretend she was a wild and free Indian princess riding bareback to the sea? As I walked through the ruins, the wild horses wandered in to take fresh water collected in a pool on the south side of the ruins beneath a small flowering tree. .My reverie was interrupted by a gaggle of women on a guided tour. Time to go deeper in the hammock toward the cemetery, slave quaters, barns and the 1 and 1/2 mile beach trail. My imagination switches, I now feel like Lawrence of Arabia, crossing the dunes in blazing sunlight. We marched through perfect white sand dunes for almost a mile. The sea, from the dunes, was exhilarating, magical, glorious. We both made a mad dash to cool our hot feet in the cool surf. We did not see another soul until we returned to Greyfield Inn for a glass of sweet tea, sitting on the veranda, relaxing on the porch swing.
After a five mile bike ride, a four mile walk and a picnic by the sea, this seemed like the perfect ending to a manificent day on Cumberland Island.

Sunny Sunday

Yawn. Stretch. WFS brings my coffee to my sea watching spot. We both stare into the sparkling sun dancing on the low tide until WFS's belly began to growl. Our Sunday brunch was bagels, lox and cream cheese. Traveling in a vintage airstream garners lots of attention. Fellow campers wander in, how long you had it? Where did you get it? Are you from New Mexico?(front bumper) Are you from KY?( back bumper)... Then, where you been? Where you going? Time drifts away. I am eager to walk to the lighthouse, which can only be reached from the beach in lowtide.. The lighthouse is about a 3/4 mile trek along the shore. I repeat, only in lowtide. We have to get moving.
This very wild beach is Gullah country and for the most part, has been left to the natural wildness of the sea. Other than bird and turtle hatching protected areas, the park service isn't intrusive, at all. Several warnings say: Give alligators a wide berth. Thus, stick to the sea! We made it out to the lighthouse along the shore, climbed the 238 steps up
to the catwalk for a stunning view of the Atlantic Ocean, Harbor River and Fripp Island. The day was bright and sunny with views extending forty miles.
We walked through the hammock back to the seashore, where we found the most rewarding ice cream hut. A Ben & Jerry's ice cream sandwich eaten while the sun warms your back and the sea breeze cools your face..well, as the saying goes, priceless. You have to grab the moment, no?
While the tide was low, we hiked as far as we could go to the very edge of the river and the sea. Stop. Breathe deeply. Do not move.
Now, continue.
We decided to drive 16 miles into the historic town of Beaufort, SC. This is a lovely southern town and also very lively on Sunday afternoon. Perversely, I was seeking a Sunday NYTimes. Unsuccessfully. We did treat ourselves to fried grouper cheeks and Palmetto ale. You get good and greasy and wash it all away with beer. Oh, by the way, in the south, you lick your fingers!
We found Beaufort very southern and, hospitable. Do stop in, if you are ever lost between Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA.
A footnote:
the sunset over the marsh would take a small book to adequately describe. When I write my memoirs, I will include that indescribable sunset

Asheville, North Carolina

WFS is a nimble driver. No doubt about it. He's also a relentless one. Miles upon miles, never relinquishing the wheel. I will also add he will stop a zillion times, for no better reason than allowing me to dip my feet in the French Broad River. We followed the French Broad as we snaked through the lush mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina. The very, very slow route, to be sure. We took this senic and splendid route to avoid the rock slide on I40. We didn't see the Smokies but we did see America, the beautiful and America, the kitchy!
Camping last night was bliss. I was sleeping soundly by 9:45!
We've left the mountains behind and we'll see the Atlantic Ocean soon. Tonight our little TinCan will be nestled by the sea. We have cherry wood and bison burgers.. What more could two vagabonds want?

Eastern Kentucky

As I travel through the magnificent mountains near Pineville, Kentucky, two things are very clear to me:
1. It is breathtakingly beautiful.
2. It is devastatingly poor.
I wonder if we will ever reconcile these glaring contrasts.
As a child in a one room school, I was graced by the Save the Children Federation. I only knew beauty, I did not understand the concept of poverty. I thought we were priviledged. I still do. Later in life, and noted by my oldest son, I became vocal, perhaps militant on the stereotypical portrayal of the undereducated. I
must admit, it is hard not be protective of the people from this incredible landscape. It only takes a few guffaws or pointed grammatical corrections to set me aflame. I wear my heritage with enormous pride. I am looking out the windshield into a deep hardwood forest, morels are there waiting to be dry land fish for supper. Wildflowers are dotting the south banks of creekbeds. Trees in the distance are pale green, red and gray. Birds are nesting. Someplace in a hollow, a baby's foot is touching green grass for the very first time. The timeless ritual of life in the mountains on a spring day is humming to my soul.
I honor the past, I am hopeful for the future of this remarkable corner of the world.

Gardens, Yew Dell and Sarah Belle

The soft rains came yesterday, Nothing blustery. Just a billowy wind and rain. The good ground soaking kind. The rain was much needed. Though my seedlings had popped through the ground, they seemed to be patiently waiting for the final element for success, rainwater. Somehow, watering with a garden hose never brings the results of a good, steady, spring rain.
Last night, I drifted off to sleep listening to the rhythmic sound of water splashing on the earth. I went out on the pavilion around 10:00pm to take a deep breath of the rain soaked air. The smell of the earth receiving the rain is one I dearly love. One must take time to smell, not only the roses, but the wonderful smell of the earth as it inhales and exhales in the still night air.

Recent Dining

Well I have been hitting the dining trail quite hard in the last month and have some nice additions to the dining dossier and some nice re-assurements to some seasoned restaurants. Just from time to time I like to remind our readers how lucky we are to live in a city with such high marks for good restaurants and a standard of appreciation amongst the diners of Louisville. Having first hand knowledge of all major markets in the US, there are not more than five cities which exceed the river city's quality.

I will start with the new Zapata's on Shelbyville Rd where the old (real old) Mazoni's was. One of the few "institution" restaurants had left a void in our landscape, but that story was posted a while back. So I must say Zapata's breaks the mold that nearly all mexican restaurants in America hold. They bill their fare as authentic, and I somewhat agree, but the food is excellent regardless. The very colorful dining room, in which the servers wear VERY traditional small town garb, is sure to awaken your senses. The chorizo fundido was excellent, but the coctal de camarones was hands down off the chart. The quesadilla was huge and wonderful, the carne azada skirt steak was large and tender, and the Tacos of steak were served in excellent corn tortillas served in a festive sombrero. This place will find a devout following quickly! *** 1/2

I had eaten brunch at Rivue a year or so back, but had never been for dinner. My brother works for the Schneider Co, who owns both the Galt House and the Crowne Plaza, and he had repeatedly requested I fit the revolving restaurant into my rounds. On a Thursday night in April the time came, and we took the express elevator to our perch over the Ohio, looking out at the new arena as it takes its shape and the wall of glass facing the river is installed. Tim played very soothing music on the piano as we walked past the small bar to the hostess stand. We were shown to our table in the eastern revolving room and were greeted by our server Andre. While I touched on the attributes of diners in Louisville, I must not overlook the high standard of servers in this city either. Within 10 minutes I had already rated Andre to be in the top ten of Louisville. He was concise in his knowledge of the restaurant, the menu, what accentuated each dish and was excellent at conversing in general, as my brother loves to talk to everyone. We started with glasses of Cambria chardonnay ($14), that although slightly overpriced were served chilled perfectly tableside from the bottle. We enjoyed the white full bodied wine as the river became our scenery. Our first course we were to split, and we decided on the trio of sea scallpos. One was served atop red tomato sauce, one atop yellow tomato sauce, and the final atop an asparagus sauce. The yellow tomato, topped off with crunchies, was the only disappointment. The flavors did not meld in harmony, hiding the natural excellence of the plump scallop. The bread was good, but the butter should be commended. One accutrement this city has not mastered is the importance of butter quality. For our main courses I had the filet with a potato gnocchi-like seared pasta. These were a welcome respite from the usual servings of starch found around town. The filet was very tender and flavorful, but I could not keep from thinking about my recent steak experience and this was simply playing second fiddle. Rivue gets the review, ***1/2

So I guess the introduction for the best steak in Louisville has already been written. Now the question is which spot is going to knock Pat's off their perch? Is it the ultra sexy Jeff Ruby's, where the bar scene is the place to be seen on the weekend downtown?? As excellent as they are, especially to get fresh stone crab back in December this far from South Florida, that is not the answer. The answer lies atop one of my favorite buildings anywhere. That building would be the Kaden Tower. The Frank Lloyd Wright designed building creates as air of specialness to me as I enter the elevator past his portrait. As we leave the cold lobby after a UL basketball game, we are greeted with the warm wood, carpet, and overall decor of a steak worshipper's home. As we sat at the bar to watch more basketball, we ordered a shrimp remoulade. The four jumbo shrimp were great, but the remoulade was just a tweak off. Although Ruth Fertel originated this well-run chain in New Orleans, the recipe for this sauce must have gotten lost in the move. Not bad, just not where it could be. But redemption was on the way. Oh sweet redemption, when it comes in the form of a 9 oz. sizzling filet mignon on a plate that could fry an egg. The perfectly bloody center mixed with the bernaise sauce in a harmony that made my mouth smile and my eyelids slightly close as if to say- wow. Me picking a chain as the best steak in Louisville means it already overcame a large hurdle. But however many there are in the country does not matter to me at this point. The flavor of that meat served scalding hot and the well-executed cooking does. On another trip shortly after the first left our cravings unfinished, we started with a crab cake, and I would order that in lieu of the shrimp remoulade on subsequent trips. Ruth's Chris is where it has been for some time now, it just took me a few years to allow a chain to receive such high status from me. They have paid their dues ****

Recent musings also included a wonderful foie gras hand delivered by Kathy Cary at Lilly's. The chef knows how to do foie gras. All renditions here are excellent, and paired with unique tart or sweet flavors. The service here was good and the restaurant looks to be doing well in the downturned economy. Also on a Friday night we went with friends to the Come Back Inn. After trying a few of the pastas and leaving with a grin and not a smile, I found what I needed to bring me back to the genial spot tucked away between Bardstown Road and downtown. An entree that would keep me coming back with a dish in mind, instead of a warm spot for a cool evening. The pizza rocks at the Come Back Inn, but don't tell everybody, because you can't hardly get into the no-reservations dining room easily even if you are life long friends with the owner's dad. Geena can flip a table with speed and talk about the daily grind with a no-nonsense style that is genuine and makes a diner happy to know their money is going to the propreitor who is bussing tables and expediting orders. The final restaurant I recently dined at was El Toro on Shelbyville Rd. I was introduced to a new drink, consisting of beer, tabasco, worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, and some fruit drink. called an enchilada. There was a hispanic contingency that had the tall bartender rocking out the enchiladas. The quesadillas were great, but the tacos carne asada were less than desirable. Probably won't go back to this spot.

So get out there and enjoy the dining this city has to offer! Your favorite restaurant is probably having trouble in the hard times. Go have a nice dinner and support the local owners in their businesses. Or you may not be able to when you start craving that dish you love.

AE

TREES

Today at 7:00am I began my day. A huge truck delivered a gigantic mound of dirt. I love a pile of dirt. This was especially good dirt. Compost and earth, nothing better! We started moving dirt to my new raised bed and to my herb garden. After 4 back breaking hours, the dirt was where it needed to be and the new lacy bark elms were in the ground. I have decided to name the trees Lacy & Lucy. After a certain stylish cat I know! I am too tired to bring more news, except, the lettuce is planted and I will be able to cover my bed if/when freezing temperatures arrive. That is a given in the Ohio Valley!

DEATH OF A MOTHER

A dear friend's mother died early this morning in LA. We have shared our experiences with the decline and loss of our mothers.
These words literally fell out this morning. I think it is Dan and I in the last moments. However, it is for Stephanie Shane Parkin, daughter of Betty Shane.

Death of a Mother

Silence takes a moment
it's there
you wait and still,
still is the calm.
A flutter takes you
to all the times,
fraught and final.
The hand relaxed,
the jaw set
it is the moment
the silence
it is death.

Home

Home has its own sweetness. I spent the day reorganizing and cleaning. to most, this is drudgery, to me, exhilarating. By late afternoon, I had things orderly. Dinner.I made polenta, baked golden crispy with a very creamy center and topped with black beans, red onion and roasted red peppers...a little finish of cilantro and a warm fire made for a great ending to the day~~
The photo was made at Fort Clinch, Fernandina Beach, Florida. WFS was walking ahead on our only rainy day and this shot presented itself. We started out with low clouds through the hammock, by the time we reached the beach it was a downpour. Walking in the rain was such fun.
We made it to the old fort, as my mom would say, looking like water soaked rats. We stepped inside the old bakery and found a lovely fire in the fireplace and a long row of nice wood. WFS stoked the fire, and we warmed our wet bones. One of the more perfect adventures of Sally and Bill.