Reading through James Molesworth’s blog about his Châteauneuf-du-Pape trip bought back memories of my first experience there when I was 22. " Cahors n’est pas la." That is what a lovely French woman said to me about 10 years ago when, as a very poor cook living and working in France for a year, I went into her wine shop off of the Avenue St.
I don't care what you think. I love Lambrusco. There. I've said it. So what'cha gonna do about it? Now, as a chef and owner in a semi-fancy New York City Italian restaurant , I'm well aware that, to most wine people, this is roughly akin to admitting that I’m a big fan of macaroni and cheese from a cardboard box.
That is inevitably what people say to my wife when they find out that I'm a chef. But the truth is, we mostly go out. Take this past holiday weekend. Five meals out. One meal in. Holiday weekends are the best in New York: The city completely empties, and it's a real opportunity to check out places that would normally be mobbed.
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