Feast Blog

Despite my various travels, for some reason I had never made it to New York before. And how I ended here is a matter of some serendipity. Having just returned from 2 1/2 weeks in Europe, I read in the New York Times about the first production of Philip Glass’ opera, Satyagraha in 25 years. Being a long-time Glass fan, I had to figure out a way to see it. Checking the calendar, it so happened that the last performance was a mere day-and-a-half before I was going to be in Florida, departing on a Caribbean cruise. My thought? Well, gee, if I’m going to be on the East Coast anyway…  A flurry of e-mails with one of my oldest friends, Jerry, only shows how serendipity works; it turns out that my time line also coincides with his 50th birthday, he likes Glass music, and *poof* there just happen to be a few tickets left!

I arrived a little late on May Day, but still enough time to get in a little face time and meet-and-greet an online buddy (Hi, L!) before Jerry and I headed out for our adventure and #2 on my New York must-do list, the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Jerry arranged for lunch in the Trustee’s Room, a fabulous window seat where we had a view of the Egyptian obelisk in central park. The Museum itself was considerably bigger than I had anticipated and reminded me a great deal of The British Museum in its scope of cultures. I was very happy to peruse a Courbet exhibit and much of the permanent collection are paintings I had only read about, most notable for me a pre-Raphaelite Frederic, Lord Leighton, a handful of the Orientalist period likes the works of Jean-Léon Gérôme, and yet another of Parliament series paintings by Manet which affected me so much in London. There were some giant Koons sculptures but overall, it was the magnitude of the classical offerings which was so impressive and I was surprised to see how well attended the museum. A testament to the collection and hope that art is still loved and revered (I’m often surprised by how empty California museums are!).
More pictures on the next page!

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Besides trying to look at as much art as possible, I went to Harrods every, every day. Quite simply, their food court is a thing of beauty. A jaunt to Harrods started my days, partly because they are less crowded right when they open at 10:00 a.m., but also because the food court is so diverse in its offerings. I had oysters on the half-shell with Muscadet for breakfast. One morning it was the cylindrical meat pies (venison with Stilton and orange, thank you!). How can you not love a place that has FOUR different providers of Goose Fat? Or a fish market that offers varieties which can be brought home — or they will cook it for you there (fry, broil, etc.?) The butcher has Scottish-raised beef and Danish-raised lamb. And it isn’t just the First Floor food court that makes Harrods special; they have restaurants and bistros on every floor, including a specialized chocolate bar (I know, I should have at least tried a hot chocolate from there and I didn’t!)

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I would like to introduce you to James. He is by far one of the most Mercurial beings I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and his passion is mushrooms. I met James through some mutual friends when I stumbled upon his mycological secret and several weeks ago, I convinced him to take me along on a foraging adventure.

Via e-mail, we debated for some time when to go and where to go. The when was moreso to coincide our busy schedules while the where was dependent upon the mushrooms we were to go a-hunting for.

“Salt Point State Park is one of the very few State Parks that allows harvesting of wild native fungi. They give you a five-pound limit, though it is easy to pick eight times this in a single day. The habitat there varies as do the kinds of mushrooms that grow in them. It’s best known for it’s Porcini (Boletus edulis). The season right now is ripe with Hedgehogs (Hydnum repandum with its many variants), Black Trumpets (Craterellus cornucopioides), and Yellow Foot (Cantharellus infundibuliformis ]) which is quite plentiful compared to the other two. All of these mushrooms are used by most of the white table restaurants in the Bay Area.

There is also the East Bay ecosystems which are muddier and have less variety of edible fungi in greater quantities, though Golden Chantrelles are probably the most abundant. The problem is the park rangers here will issue tickets if they catch you with native fungi or collecting it. Who would miss 46 pounds of chantrelles collected off the hiking trails?”

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  William Bayer (left) is an internationally-renowned crime author. His novels have been translated into a dozen languages, his books have been transformed into television movies, and he has won numerous awards for his writing. He is also my Art Buddy.

Once a month, Bill and I go on various art adventures; galleries, private collections, or museums. Our gatherings involve lunch while we catch up on local chit-chat and gossip, plans and projects, and our respective artistic endeavors. Then we head out for several hours to the splendor of our eyes and minds and souls. We are cut from the same cloth, Bill and I are: Lovers of many mediums, aficionados of emotive arrangement, debaters of classical forms, or simply gluttons of the primal desire for beauty…

He is a man with exquisite and discerning taste. When I first met him — through his wife, Paula Wolfert — I was taken with his stunning collection of Art Deco silver, North African bedouin curved daggers, and a voluminous collection of over-sized film noir one-sheets (movie posters). How could I not be star-struck? We shared a love of film which for him, I’m sure began being raised by an Oscar-nominated screenwriter, Eleanor Perry. We bonded early over our love of films when he learned I was *trying* to explain to some online foodie community ignoramuses that Casablanca was NOT a noir film. It turned out that he had not only written numerous crime novels, but one specifically close to my heart, THE GREAT MOVIES:In Cinema History, 60 Films Deserve to be Called.

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Here on the West Coast, train travel is a bit of a rarity. I know East Coast folks utilize them considerably more than we do which is a damn shame. As an adolescent growing up in Southern California, I used to take the train a lot when my parents moved to Oceanside to visit my friends in Orange County. This was before I had a driver’s license or a car. Needing to get to Reno the day before Thanksgiving and knowing that the last thing anyone really wants to do is tackle airport madness, I decided to make the journey via the California Zephyr, the Amtrak train which starts in Emeryville, California and goes all the way to Chicago, Illinois. During that trip, I sat in the coach area with the hoi palloi and sufficed my hunger pangs with a mediocre burger in the dining car. As The Boyfriend and I needed to head back to Reno for Christmas, I cajoled him into taking the train but making a true adventure out of the trip with a little fondue preparation…

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