Matters of Taste

Praising the Potato --- In Paris

Parmentier has been one of my favorite dishes since I discovered it at Le Grand Vefour in Paris about 20 years ago. I mean, really, what’s not to love about a heap of tender, savory stew topped with creamy mashed potatoes that are swirled with butter and run under a broiler ‘til golden brown? (The dish is named for Antoine-Augustin Parmentier, an 18^th century gent who trumpeted the potato as valuable human food at a time when they were only fed to animals.)  

                                      

At Grand Vefour, Paris’ oldest restaurant, I flipped over chef Guy Martin’s parmentier (above), made with a rich oxtail stew and smothered in fresh black truffles.  Last week I fell in love all over again with the Gallic classic, this time made with confit de canard, at Chez Savy in Paris. The confit ---- succulent duck meat, slow-cooked in its own fat –-- was under the mashed potatoes; a small slab of foie gras, appropriately unctuous, was on top. On the side, a simple, well-dressed green salad offered a cool contrast to the dish’s opulence. 

After just a few bites…and a few sips of a delicious 2006 Malbec from Cahors…. I wanted to shout “Savy, where have you been all my life?” 

                         

In fact, it’s been right there, just off the Champs Élysées in the 8^th arrondissement, since 1923.  Dishing out whopping steaks and mountains of pommes frites, trumpeting seasonal ingredients and local purveyors before it became fashionable to do so, and knocking the socks off its fans with dishes like my starter: Oeufs Brouillés a la Truffe Fraiche. At the risk of you drooling over your laptop keyboard, I’ll translate that: Soft, cream-infused scrambled eggs covered with six or seven paper-thin slices of fresh black truffle from the market in Lalbenque in the Lot Valley.

The food of southwest France is celebrated at Savy with duck and foie gras done every which way, a robust cassoulet, and the region’s famed dessert, prunes stewed in Armagnac. Steaks, too, are a highpoint; waiters careen through the tables balancing Brobdingnagian hunks of beef and haystacks of pommes frites.

                                            

Chez Savy isn’t cheap.  Steaks start at 20 Euros (about $27); appetizers average 10 Euros. The Southwest specials offered the night of our visit ranged from 19 to 29 Euros. But the food is worth it.   And, I might add, that food is only part of the charm of Chez Savy. The owners and staff are a lively, likeable bunch. The décor is unique --- long, comfortable booths, soft lighting, lots of wood, brass, leather and artifacts from by-gone days.

And there’s a party-hearty vibe created by an appreciative international crowd as well as lucky locals who were, the night we arrived, sharing pre-dinner aperitifs and cigarettes at the sidewalk tables -- even though it was 34 degrees.

That’s what I call love. 

NOPI: You Had Me at Hello….and Goodbye

Who says cheesecake has to be a dessert? Certainly not the chefs at NOPI in London, where I dined recently and discovered a scrumptious “cheesecake” that I didn’t have to wait ‘til after dinner to enjoy.

                                      

Valdeón Cheesecake, listed under Vegetable Starters/Dishes to Share, was a quivering blend of pecorino, parmesan and the bold, spicy Spanish blue called Valdeón cheeses, served bubbling hot in a tiny copper pot. We cracked through the well-burnished crust and scooped out the molten cheese, teaming each nibble with the bits of pickled beets, crushed hazelnuts and thyme honey drizzle served with it.  This cheesy spectacle alone would have made the rainy night trip to NOPI worthwhile. But there was more, much more. (Photo by UrbanSpoon.)

First, though, let me introduce NOPI (North Of PIcadilly) to those who haven’t made its acquaintance. It’s the London Soho restaurant of Yotam Ottolenghi, an Israeli-born chef who, with co-author Sami Tamimi, won the prestigious James Beard Award for Best International Cookbook last year for their tome “Jerusalem: A Cookbook.” 

In London, the Ottolenghi empire also includes two self-service café/delis, another restaurant on the city’s outskirts, and a busy bakery operation. The NOPI menu, limited and changing frequently, is a celebration of the bold, “sunny” flavors of the Mediterranean and Middle East. 

Occupying a narrow but deep storefront on Warwick Street, NOPI is a casual but stylish “all-day” restaurant with a colorful bar and small tables snuggled close together. A mesmerizing black-and-white movie is projected over the stairwell that leads down to a large room where long refectory tables face the bustling open kitchen.

                       


Our recent memorable dinner also included an appetizer of roasted eggplant slices, topped with feta cheese marinated in lemon and chilies, and topped with crushed pistachios; and another of purple and candy beets dressed with quince puree and dusted with sunflower seeds. 

Since NOPI is of the modern “shared plates” frame of mind, there are only five dishes designated Mains. I loved the whole, twice-cooked baby chicken that was served with a tiny pile of lemon myrtle flavored salt and a snappy chili sauce.

                                      

I also flipped over the Truffled Polenta Chips --- fat, crusty wands, as in fish ‘n chips not potato chips--- with a spicy tomato chutney for dipping. (Polenta Chips photo by FoodiesOnTheProwl.)

                                     

Accompanying wines are reasonably priced and from small producers, mostly in France, Spain and Italy. The creative cocktail list includes a martini with fresh ginger and cilantro, and a Goslings rum creation with Benedictine and pumpkin puree.

NOPI definitely had me at Hello, with the cheesecake appetizer. But the Goodbye was no less spectacular.  Their version of chocolate mousse called “Chocolate, spiced hazelnuts, orange oil, crème fraiche” was awesome --  a voluminous, bittersweet wonder that filled and coated the mouth with rich cocoa flavor, brightened by sweet orange essence and crème fraiche tang. No photo can capture the scrumptiousness. To think that it’s sitting there right now, more than 5,000 miles away, makes me want to cry.

Even if you can’t get to NOPI any time soon, you can enjoy its robust flavors by checking out the impressive catalog of recipes on the Ottolenghi website.

A Food Writer Remembers Charlie Trotter

The food world was shocked this week by the announcement of super-chef Charlie Trotter’s death at  at the age of 54.

                                      
                                        

 Well-known as an irascible perfectionist who terrified workers in his kitchen, Trotter was also acknowledged to be one of the most creative, disciplined and hard-working chefs of the past decades. His eponymous Chicago restaurant vaulted Chicago’s dining scene into the big leagues. He closed the restaurant in 2012 after 25 years at the top of the gastronomic hit parade.

                                                    

I loved Trotter’s food. Globe artichoke soup poured over spun honeycomb and garnished with artichoke chips and fresh mint. Open-face wild mushroom tarts. Cardamom-scented ricotta soufflé with candied Buddha's Hand mushrooms and olive praline. (Food photos by John Reed Forsman for Veranda.)

                                                      

In 2005, I wrote a story about the 25 greatest meals I had eaten in my 25 years as Restaurant Critic of The San Diego Union-Tribune. Dinner at Charlie Trotter’s in Chicago was one of them.

Toast of the town

At first, I found the sleek, quiet, contemporary atmosphere of Charlie Trotter's very staid. But with each remarkable dish – an asparagus terrine with goat cheese; potato cannelloni with artichokes; foie gras served with white asparagus soup and sweet Vidalia onions; skate wing with clams and preserved papaya – and with each delicious wine recommended by the friendly sommelier, Trotter's Chicago town-house seemed more and more like the happiest place on earth.  

But as much as the food world appreciated Trotter’s talent, fellow chefs, kitchen workers and, yes, food writers were often totally put off by his arrogance and demanding-to-the-point-of-nasty style.

I encountered that side of Trotter on my very first writing assignment, some 30 years ago, for the then-San Diego Union. At a glitzy gala dinner, staged in Los Angeles by the Relais & Chateaux collection of luxury restaurants and hotels, 50 American and international chefs gathered to cook together. The team represented a staggering 90 Michelin stars. For hours, 49 of the chefs toiled in the hot kitchen of the Biltmore hotel, helping each other, trading jokes, tasting, and praising. The other chef, Charlie Trotter, blew in the door with less than 30 minutes to showtime, having done all his cooking elsewhere – unencumbered by such things as collaboration and camaraderie.

I wrote:

“As the last waiter clears the swinging door, all eyes focus on Charlie Trotter, who has arrived with great fanfare and with much of the preparation of his lamb dish done in the morning in his Chicago kitchen. 

While a KCET camera lens creeps to within an inch of the glasses perched on his nose, Trotter leans over a plate explaining quietly to his helpers exactly how his lamb with Israeli couscous and red wine essence should be plated.  He places an oven-roasted slice of lamb loin on the plate, moves it a fraction of an inch, moves it again, adds a drizzle of sauce, then steps back to assess his handiwork.”

High-strung. Volatile. Arrogant. Maybe.

But the world’s communal dining table will be a less interesting place without Charlie Trotter’s talents. And I, for one, will always be grateful I got the chance to enjoy that foie gras with white asparagus soup and sweet Vidalia onions.

                                     

Shine On, Shine On "Full Corn Moon" Up In The Sky...

The Harvest Moon made a dramatic appearance last night. Also called the Full Corn Moon, the full moon closest to the Autumn Equinox was said by Native Americans to mark the best time for harvesting corn. (According to the Farmers Almanac, “At the peak of harvest, farmers can work late into the night by the light of this Moon.”)

All of which is serendipitous timing from my standpoint, as I’m in southwestern Colorado listening to heated debates over the merits of Olathe Sweet Corn vs. Abundant Life Corn at the Telluride Farmers Market each week.

                         


Olathe is a one-square-mile town, between the airport towns of Montrose and Grand Junction. It has 1,500 residents, a lot more corn stalks, and an annual Sweet Corn Festival that residents are very proud of. Abundant Life is a family-run farm, connected to the Abundant Life Church, in Hotchkiss, CO, a well-known agricultural area centered by Paonia, CO. Hotchkiss and Olathe are only 32 miles apart, but to hear the folks at Abundant Life talk about corn, they are in different universes.

I’ve been a fan of Olathe corn -- pale yellow, tender, super sweet -- for decades. I made the acquaintance of the Abundant Life operation last week at the Farmers Market in Telluride. I paid a buck an ear for their corn -- which they say is organic and hand-harvested -- and it was delicious. Yesterday I bought Olathe corn -- granted, a more commercial operation -- at the Montrose supermarket, 10 miles from Olathe. I paid 33 cents an ear and it was delicious. Clearly I’m not one of the folks involved in the heated arguments. To me, fresh, local, just-picked corn is one of the best parts of summer and I’ll take it any way I can get it.

(To be honest, though, I think Chino’s corn in Rancho Santa Fe north of San Diego is the best of all, followed very closely by any ear that grows in New Jersey!)

                                         
                                

Awash in corn, I decided to play with a new contraption by Kuhn Rikon that's designed to separate kernels from the cob a lot more safely than the standard knife approach. The Corn Twister is attractive, easy to clean, and amazingly fast. The hidden “teeth” whipped through a cob in seconds, releasing all the precious “milk” along with the kernels. It works best with slim ears. The heftier ears require a bit of elbow grease when the teeth get to the wide part of the cob.

The Corn Twister costs about $16 at Sur La Table and other kitchen emporiums as well as at Amazon.com. (Food-lovers in my town of La Jolla, CA will be happy to hear that a new Sur La Table, with an extensive calendar of classes, opened recently on Girard.)

I twisted my way through four ears of corn to make this easy but elegant dish, from a New York Times recipe. The chicken “cutlets” had a very fine crust thanks to the Dijon and flour; the “salad,” with yellow squash, lemon juice, jalapeno and cilantro was a celebration of summer.

CHICKEN PAILLARDS WITH CORN SALAD

 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon lemon juice

2 skinless and boneless chicken breasts, about 1 1/4 pounds, pounded thin

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil                    

1/2 cup chopped onion

2 ears corn, kernels stripped

1 jalapeño chile, seeded and minced

1 medium-size yellow summer squash, diced

Salt and ground black pepper

1 medium yellow tomato, diced

1/3 cup flour

2 tablespoons minced cilantro leaves

Mix mustard and 1/4 cup lemon juice in a shallow dish. Cut each chicken breast in half, place in the mustard mixture, turn to coat both sides and set aside.

Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large skillet, add onion and sauté on low a few minutes, until softened. Add corn, chile and squash and continue to cook until vegetables are tender, about 15 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Remove from heat, fold in tomato, add 1 tablespoon lemon juice and set aside.

Remove chicken from marinade and dust with flour. Heat remaining oil in a large cast-iron skillet or grill pan on medium-high heat and sear chicken, turning once, until lightly browned and just cooked through, about 5 minutes a side. Arrange on a serving platter. Add cooking oil to salad, fold in cilantro and spoon over and around chicken.

Serves 4. 

 

Onion Soup That Would Make Julia Jealous

Anyone who’s cooked from Julia Child’s famed tome, “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” swears by her Soupe au L’Oignon Gratinée.  Slow-cooked for hours, a dark brown broth with sweet caramelized onions, a splash of Sherry, and a baked-on crouton gooey with bubbled Gruyere cheese – I mean, really, is there anything better?

Up until last month I would have said “no.”

                                       

But then I tasted the sublime Zwiebelsüppchen (“little onion soup”) at Hotel Monika in the heart of Italy’s Dolomite mountains. Topped with a silken Parmesan haube (cap or bonnet in English) that fairly floated over the soup and croutons of rosemary-spiked homemade bread, it was a masterpiece of taste, texture and eye appeal.

Julia would have admired the intense flavor of the soup, cooked for hours with well-browned onions, white wine, thyme and bay leaf, as her own version is.  She would have appreciated, too, the participation of Parmesan instead of Gruyere, given the soup’s Sexten, Italy address.  And she’d probably be wondering, as I am, exactly how they achieved the luxuriously smooth cloud of Parmesan cream on top.

                          

Together with four friends, my husband and I were in this northeastern corner of Italy to do a four-day, hut-to-hut trek with a guide. Since some of the hütte are rather primitive, I booked us into small,stylish hotels for the nights before (see Hotel Alpenblick) and after the trek.

                                        

Hotel Monika was the end point of our mountain adventure, greeting us warmly with Prosecco cocktails and elegant four-course dinners – including the homemade tagliolini (above) with Champagne sauce, kohlrabi, summer truffles, and a “blossom” of Tete de Moine cheese; along with hot showers, fluffy duvets, and flower-bedecked balconies looking over the extraordinary peaks we had just traversed.

Super Soups – In the Shadow of the Dolomites

On a recent trekking adventure through these majestic mountains of Northern Italy, my fellow hikers and I found ourselves gushing over the soups at dinner as much as we did over the dramatic peaks and dare-devil terrain we encountered during the day.

Most hotels and Gasthäuse (guesthouses) in this part of the world (called the Südtirol in German and Alto Adige in Italian) include breakfast and dinner in the price of a room. And every dinner, whether in stylish hotel or bare-basics hut, includes an impressive homemade soup. (This "Frothy Little Soup with Dried Wildflowers" is at Alpenblick Hotel, Sexten, Italy.)

                                      

You’d think the cooks would run out of ideas, enthusiasm, or both when forced to crank out a different potage every night. Instead, the chefs at the two hotels where we overnighted in the Sexten Dolomites managed to blow away our hearty band of trekkers with yummy creations five out of five nights.

                                       

At Hotel Alpenblick in the town of Sexten, we were treated to an elegant Potato Cappuccino, a creamy blend of potatoes, onions, leeks, vegetable stock and cream. Chef Renato Cervo cooks everything together slowly with bay leaf and fresh marjoram, then blends it and passes the mixture through a sieve to get that awesome silky texture. At the last minute he beats cold butter into the mix, creating the creamy “foam” texture of a classic cappuccino. For us, he garnished the "capp" with a cluster of wispy potato “sticks," a drizzle of truffle oil and a few wisps of chervil. Other presentations include a garnish of sautéed porcini mushrooms, pictured here.

                                         

Another night, chef Cervo whipped up a fabulous Jerusalem artichoke soup that almost took up a whole line on the printed menu with its name: Topinamburschaumsuppe.  Topinambur is German for Jerusalem artichokes, also called Sunchokes.  With just a touch of cream added at the end, the soup is primarily a blend of the nutty tubers, meat or vegetable broth, onions, garlic, potatoes, white wine and a bit of whole wheat flour. On top, Cervo floated impossibly thin, crackly artichoke  “chips.” 

Good thing we were were out hiking for 6 or so hours every day, because the Alpenblick kitchen didn’t stop with the soups. One night we were treated to paper-thin slices of beef carpaccio, woven into a pinwheel pattern together with summer lettuces and herbs. Sharing the plate was a warm “brioche” filled with mushrooms from the surrounding woods.

                                         

Another night Cervo dressed up the traditional cheese dumplings called Knödeln with a salad of marinated,caraway flecked white cabbage.  And every night he gave our weary band of travelers a sugary shot in the arm with his stunning, and drop-dead-delicious dessert plates.  There’s nothing quite like an “After-Eight Chocolate Parfait Cone on Pineapple Carpaccio with Forest Fruits” to give you a second wind for playing cards or listening to music in the bar. We also loved the almond millefeuille, pictured here, filled with white chocolate mousse and served with a fresh cherry ragout.

                                       

COMING UP: An Onion Soup Gratinée that would leave Julia Child insane with jealously. 

NOTE: Many of the small village hotels in the Dolomites offer fabulous four- or five-course feasts (plus breakfast and charming rooms with flower-festooned balconies) for an amazingly reasonable price of $200- $250 a night for two people. Even the hike-to “huts” in the mountains concoct delicious three-course dinners, with ingredients that were schlepped up in backpacks or on chairlifts. A "Hütte" room for two, with dinner and breakfast, typically costs about $130.

For more information, check out VisitDolomites, South-Tirol.com, and DolomiteMountains.com.

 

In Praise of Iceberg Lettuce

I was very excited to see “The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook” and author Deb Perelman win the "Julia Child
Award for Best First Cookbook" at the 2013 IACP conference. (IACP is the International Association of Culinary Professionals, which counts more than 3,000 food, beverage and hospitality professionals
worldwide as members.) 

                                                   

I tested recipes from this book earlier this year and loved every dish I made. The recipes are user-friendly, creative without being contrived, and delicious.  I also enjoyed Perlman’s breezy, down-to-earth conversational tone. She is able to connect with both sophisticated home cooks who know their way around a kitchen and the Whole Foods cheese department, and terrified novices who will appreciate how she makes magic happen in her own weensy New York City kitchen. And her photos are mouth-watering inspirations.  

There were dozens of dishes that screamed out “Pick me -- I am divine” as I read the book. Two of them --- the Blueberry Cornmeal Butter Tart, and the Iceberg Stack with Blue Cheeses and Radishes --- are now permanent fixtures at our house. (Photo from TheGreenBeet.com.)

                              

Here’s the recipe for the Iceberg Stack. For the rest of the yummies, buy the book on Amazon.com.

Iceberg Stack with Blue Cheese & Radishes 

Serves 4 to 5

Dressing
1/2   cup well-shaken buttermilk
1/2   cup mayonnaise 
1       tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2    teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1       small clove garlic, minced
1/4    teaspoon table salt
1/8    teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Salad
4  ounces pancetta in 1/4-inch dice or bacon in slices
1  stalk celery, cut into 1/4 inch dice (about 1/3 cup)
1/3 cup radishes in 1/4 inch dice
1-pound head of iceberg lettuce, trimmed & cored, sliced into 1-inch thick rounds
1/2 cup firm blue cheese, crumbled (about 2 ounces)
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh chives

In a small bowl, whisk together the dressing ingredients until smooth. Adjust the seasonings to taste.

Brown the pancetta or bacon in a frying pan until it is crisp. Drain on paper towels, and let cool. If you are using bacon, chop or crumble into small bits. Toss the celery and radishes together in a small dish.

Place the largest slice of iceberg carefully on a platter. Drizzle with a few tablespoons of dressing, then sprinkle with a little of the radish-celery mixture, a little bacon, a little blue cheese, then chives. Place the next largest slice of lettuce on top and repeat, adding dressing, radishes and celery, bacon, blue cheese and chives. Repeat with the remaining slices, stacking and staggering decoratively. If any ingredients remain, sprinkle them over the top.

(Edible) Works of Art --- Part II

My last post sang the praises of the luscious lasagna I found at Österreicher im MAK, a restaurant in Vienna, Austria’s Museum of Applied Art. But there was another “oeuvre” in that dinner that needs its own post.

Chef Bernie Rieder’s bouillon gave me a new appreciation of this normally boring, plain-Jane soup.  In my opinion, the classic no-frills broth is great when you’re sick as a dog and unable to eat anything else. All other occasions deserve something far more interesting.

                           

And "far more interesting" is what you get at Österreicher im Mak where Rieder presents shimmering  bouillon in a tall, slim glass, with a perfectly poached egg hunkered down on the bottom. When a spoon pierced the orb, the bright yellow juices mingled with the golden broth in a wavy, psychedelic pattern worthy of a canvas. The flavors swirled together too – delicate yet distinct.

A pouf of wine-laced potato foam hovered on top. And a fluffy baked knödel (dumpling) filled with savory, slow-braised oxtail sat on the side for nibbling and dunking. The menu calls the dish “Bouillon mit Ei, Erdäpfelschaum und geschmortem Oxenschleppknödel.”

Heck, I wouldn’t mind a bout of the flu every now and then if I could get “bouillon” like this served to me in bed.

 

Lasagna's New Look

Forget the curly-edged pasta strips, the red sauce, and the baked-on cheese.

At Österreicher im Mak in Vienna, Austria, chef Bernie Rieder does a luscious riff on lasagna that involves three gossamer sheets of freshly-made pasta, cut into large squares and artfully draped over and between creamy clouds of celery root puree. I found the veggie’s flavor so bright, so sweet, so earthy, that I wondered why the heck isn’t this knobby root given more play in American cooking?

                                       

Rieder’s “study in white” was garnished with sautéed button mushrooms and toasted pinenuts.  Some folks might say the celery root puree was too much of a good thing. But for me, it was an exciting chance to eat my fill of a vegetable I rarely get to enjoy.

Österreicher im Mak is located in the Österreichisches Museum für angewandte Kunst, which translates as Museum of Applied Art, and involves collections of ceramics, glass, metal, furniture, woodwork, textile, rugs and the Archives of the famed Wiener Werkstätte (Arts & Crafts).

                           

The restaurant’s dining room itself is a work of art with a dramatic coffered ceiling, banquettes simulating a huge wave, old oak flooring and a massive chandelier comprised of 200 clear wine bottles.

                                       

However, during our recent visit in the middle of a blistering heat-wave, we dined in the enchanting garden where art works are occasionally displayed and a magical lightshow entertains most evenings.

                                        

In addition to the inspired lasagna, chef Rieder and his kitchen impressed with a “Rot (red) Risotto” of perfectly cooked Arborio rice, blended with crushed red beets, miniscule cubes of green apple, fresh and creamed horseradish, and sprigs of fresh basil on top. Like a good orchestra, each ingredient played loud and clear yet fused perfectly with the others.

To me, the sign of a really yummy dish is if it inspires me to try it at home. I've been making "beet risotto" almost weekly since I returned from Austria, using pre-cooked beets (that I saute a few minutes with butter, a splash of orange juice and a few drops of balsamic), and cooking it in a pressure cooker -- start to finish in five minutes flat!

Molveno - The Most Fabulous Town You've Never Heard Of

A couple of weeks ago in Italy my husband and I experienced the travel equivalent of winning the SuperLotto. 

After an hour of driving mountain roads that looked like the Christmas “ribbon candy” of the ‘50s, we rounded a hairpin turn and looked down upon the most beautiful lake town we have ever seen. All the usual superlatives simply do not do Molveno justice.  Stunning, magical, breathtaking, awesome –-- Molveno, in northernmost Italy’s Trentino region, is all that and more. The narrow, eight-mile-around lake is brilliant blue, sparkles in the sunlight, and is so clean I could count every single stone in the water, even at the edge where families were swimming and playing in paddle boats.

                          

Dense forest drops straight down to water’s edge, leaving no room for a road except in the tiny town on the northern tip. There, immaculately painted homes and hotels dot the steep hillside, and a large, lush town park is home to a kiddie fun zone, an Olympic swimming pool, tennis courts and assorted cafes. Looming over the town are the Brenta Dolomites, a cluster of towering carbonate spires that top out at about 10,500 feet. (They are called Dolomites because they are of the same rock type as the principal Dolomites range on the other side of the Adige River.)

                           

Discovering Molveno (photo by NBCNews) was the most serendipitous of adventures. We were en route from the “real” Dolomites on the Austria-Italy border, heading south to Venice to catch a plane home. I had scoured maps and the Internet to find an interesting town somewhere between the two points, where we could spend a couple of nights and get to the airport in time for a late-morning flight.

I chose the town because of the lake and the multiple hiking trails shown on maps of the surrounding mountains. But nothing on the Internet prepared us for magnificence of Molveno.

At the Hotel Alle Dolomiti (which I found on the Internet), we had a large, attractive room with a balcony overlooking the town park and the lake. We paid about $170 a night for the room with breakfast and four-course dinner (plus free parking and Wi-Fi). 

We were expecting a good but not great dinner when we arrived in the elegant dining room the first night, and were totally blown away by the exceptional pasta dishes. So fabulous was my homemade orrechiette with “creamy broccoli” sauce, perked up with red pepper flakes, that I ordered pasta dishes as primi AND secondi the next night. The Spaghetti “Vegetarian Carbonara” with egg yolk and strips of sautéed zucchini was terrific. Ditto the gossamer pasta roll filled with well-seasoned minced vegetables. Delicate ravioli (pictured here) and fine tagliolini with pesto, green beans and potatoes are also specialties of the house.

                                   

The hotel owner, Renato Sartori, is the chef. During busy summer months, he is joined by chef Bruno Stofella who seems to be a pretty big deal in Italy and has travelled to the U.S . to share his skills as well. The Alle Dolomiti sponsors Gastronomy Weeks that include hands-on pasta making lessons with Sartori and Stofella.

We worked off the carbo extravaganzas each day with fabulous walks --- one day around the lake on a gently rolling dirt path that darted in and out of the woods and offered dramatic views of the spiky Dolomites, the lake, and the town. The next day: a steep, woodsy climb, along a river, to the neighboring ski town of Andalo. (Photo from Tr3ntino.it.) From there we hiked onto the Pradel plateau high above Molveno, and back down into the town.

                                   

Out for a postprandial stroll late one night, we wandered about a half-mile along the unlighted lakeside footpath.  In the darkness the twinkling lights of Molveno stood out in the distance, and the brilliant stars were above ---  our lucky stars that we thanked for leading us to this new and enchanting part of the world.