Rachel Baumgartner

It’s become quite difficult for me to sit still here in our Chelsea office because almost exactly one month from today, I will journey over the big pond to Italy for a week’s long culinary rejuvenation – a.k.a the expansion of my repertoire to include authentic Italian cuisine.  I’m about ready to burst with excitement as thoughts of pizza and gelato creep into my head at every turn. Not quite sure if I can last another month! 

Since graduating from the Institute of Culinary Education in New York, I’ve been anticipating the opening of Cucina della Terra, a small culinary school located on a Tuscan hillside. One of my former culinary instructors promised me long ago that I would someday have the opportunity to visit Italy and learn the joys of Italian cuisine first-hand.  And now, after three long years of waiting, she’s finally made good on that promise.         

The small villa in the region of Umbria will house 15 food enthusiasts dying to experience all things Italian.  My days will be filled with preparing authentic regional cuisine, drinking lots of wine, tasting homemade olive oil (among other local specialties) and hunting for truffles.  Not only will we be honing our skills in the kitchen, but we will be experiencing life outside the villa walls.  Each new day will bring untold delights and the hopes of learning something new in this true culinary mecca.

A true once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, this trip promises to enrich in ways I can’t possibly foresee until I get there. I am counting the minutes.

What I’m

Reading: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

Watching: Law & Order, every episode

Eating: Roasted chicken

Listening to: Dave Matthews Band

By Helen Baldus

I did it. Something I promised myself I would never do again. But it was late and I had a craving. And yes, it happened after the Food & Wine Best New Chefs party, which makes it even more glaring. But somehow eating bite after bite of different things while standing up, even delicious things prepared by the country’s best chefs, always leaves me feeling hungry, or at least peckish. I call it the plight of the taste-around.

A hint: It involved golden arches.

Walking through Times Square, towards the subway, I contemplated my options…a bag of chips? A slice? No, I told myself. Just wait until you get home. You’ve got fresh fruit and yogurt in the fridge. Goat Cheese from Vermont and organic whole grain crackers. You have standards, for God’s sake.  But the bright lights beckoned. And before I knew it, there I was, standing on the south side of 42^nd street, my hand on the door. With a deep breath I pushed my shoulders back, raised my head high.

There’s nothing to be ashamed of, I reminded myself. I AM an American; this is my cultural right. Apparitions of Eric Schlosser and Morgan Spurlock dressed in boxing gloves and shiny shorts appeared before my eyes. “Super Size that!” jabbed Spurlock from the right. “Empty Calories!” hissed Schlosser with a left hook. I pushed on towards the counter, like a heavy weight champ.

“Large fries and a nine-piece McNugget, please.”

So yes, I committed a gastro-blasphemy, even danced with the Devil (dressed in a clown costume), some might say. But it was a fast jitterbug and I enjoyed every twirl and dip.

What I’m:

Reading         Dreams From My Father Barack Obama

Watching       Shameless (Season One)

Eating           Black Cocoa Cake with Red Bean Paste and Black Sesame Ice Cream at Broadway East

Listening to    The Fugees, The Score