Not Fickle About Gregg’s Pickles

October 15, 2014 - Posted in Family restaurants, Food Memories, LauraRaposa, Pickles, Restaurants, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized, Vegetables

I haven’t lived or gone to school in Rhode Island in 100 35 years, but the sight of a Del’s Lemonade sign or a bottle of Autocrat coffee syrup on a grocery store shelf makes me wistful.

I grew up on coffee syrup in my milk, spinach pies and pizza from the bakery, Korb’s rye bread, Rocky Point chowder and Gregg’s half-sour pickles.

Gregg’s is really a Little Rhody legend because of the restaurant’s gargantuan pies. It seems you’ve got to order by Halloween to get an award-winning apple pie for Thanksgiving. They are that good.

But I’ve always been a fan of their pickles – crisp, garlic-y and sour. I never thought to make them until this summer when I found myself with an overabundance of cukes.

Actually, it was Dawn, a high school friend from St. Mary’s Academy Bay View, who prompted me to put up a big jar of them.

Gregg’s Pickles. (TripAdvisor Photo)

“They gave the recipe to the (Providence) Journal,” wrote Dawn. “Google it.”

Yup, it was there. But I didn’t think I needed to make a half-gallon’s worth, so I reduced the recipe enough to make one quart.

The beauty of this recipe is how insanely simple it is to make. All you need are cucumbers and a clean glass jar with a lid (I used a still-hot-from-the-dishwasher Bubbie’s jar.) It also calls for kosher salt, pickling spices, garlic cloves, crushed red pepper and hot water. No vinegar, you ask? Not even a teaspoon.

I made a jar, waited the 7 days and brought it to my parents’ house since they are Gregg’s aficionados. (Lucky for them, I married a New York-bred sweet pickle kind of guy.)

Last week, I noticed the jar was nearly empty while perusing my mother’s pristine refrigerator. Yes, pristine. I feel so guilty about the state of my fridge. The last time my Jenn-Air looked like hers was the day we cracked the seal after it was delivered.

“Don’t look at me,” said my mother. “It was your father and brother. They love them.”

And more pickles! (Pinterest Photo)

Since I do so love an appreciative audience, I bought more cucumbers at my local farm stand the other day and put up another jar. They’ll be ready next week.

File Under: Tickled by Pickles.

Gregg’s Half-Sour Pickles

Washed pickling size cucumbers, cut into spears or 1/4-inch slices

1-1/2 T. pickling (kosher) salt

1-1/2 t. pickling spices

1/4 t. hot pepper seed or flaked red pepper

8 small garlic cloves

2 c. hot water

1 half-gallon glass jar with cover

Fill clean jars with washed, sliced cucumbers. Pack them in tightly.

Mix salt, pickling spices, pepper and garlic cloves in a bowl with about 2 cups of hot water. Stir until the salt is dissolved. Add some cold water until the liquid feels comfortable to the touch, not hot. Add to the cucumbers.

Add more warm water, if necessary, to fill the jar. Let stand on the counter, loosely covered, for about 1 hour. When time is up, cover the jar tightly and refrigerate for 7 days. Taste on the 7^th day.

Gettin’ Roasted

September 18, 2014 - Posted in FamilyFarms, Farmers markets, Farms, Mass. Farms, roasting, Side Dishes, slow-roasting, The Foodsmith, The Foodsmith, tomatoes, Uncategorized, Vegetables

I don’t have a vegetable garden, but this summer I found myself with an overabundance of tomatoes — tri-color cherry tomatoes, beefy beefsteaks and hearty heirlooms. I bought a plethora of pints at local farmers’ markets.

Heirloom cherry tomatoes from Kildeer Farm in Norwich, VT

And recently, one of Colleen‘s organic farm friends off-loaded a crate of cherry tomatoes amongst other veggies at Goat Cottage Farm, and, well, I was there.

During tomato season, Steve and I tried to be one step ahead of the fruit flies and gladly devoured caprese salad — tomatoes, basil, mozzarella, salt, pepper and olive oil — at least three times a week. During the day, I’d snack on the yellow cherry tomatoes since they are the least acidic, hence more tolerable to my hinky post-surgery stomach. But a couple of weeks ago, I started roasting them.

Roasting vegetables — whether it’s a sheet of tomatoes or root vegetables — brings out their natural sweetness. Add some salt, pepper, crushed garlic, chopped fresh basil and olive oil and you’ve got yourself a nice side dish, a tasty top for bruschetta, a sauce for pasta…the list is endless.

Heirlooms, past their prime, are ready for slow-roasting.

For dinner guests last weekend, I roasted up a pan of multi-colored cherries and used them to adorn pieces of grilled swordfish. The tomatoes that didn’t make it onto the fish Saturday night found their way the next day into leftover farro with some added parsley. Yum.

Here’s how I roast tomatoes: Preheat oven to 250 degrees. Line a large cookie sheet with aluminum foil and scatter chopped regular tomatoes or cherry tomatoes in a single layer. Pour 1/4 c. of extra virgin olive oil over the tomatoes and toss to coat. Sprinkle with salt and freshly ground pepper. Chop 6 or 7 garlic cloves and sprinkle over the tomatoes. Throw in some chopped basil. Don’t be skimpy. At least 1/2 cup of it. Toss again and make sure the tomatoes are in a single layer.

Roasted orange cherries ready for bruschetta.

Roast in a 250-degree oven for at least an hour until they begin to blister but not burn. Cool on a rack in the pan. Store in the fridge, but bring to room temperature to use in a salad, top fish or chicken, top bruschetta. Go crazy. The season is waaaaay too short.

What have you done with your overabundance of tomatoes this season?

A Word of Caution: Don’t Be Nosy About Friendly’s

September 3, 2014 - Posted in Family restaurants, Friendly's, LauraRaposa, Restaurant Review, Restaurants, The Foodsmith, turkey, Uncategorized

I ate at Friendly’s yesterday. It’s not that I planned to lunch at the Home of the Fribble , but there was one next door to the Midas Muffler Shop where I deposited by ancient and rather noisy Saab wagon. Besides, it was lunchtime, a steamy 90 degrees and, according to my muffler man, Friendly’s had free wi-fi.

Surprisingly, my turkey avocado burger wasn’t too bad although Friendly’s and I differ on the meaning of “served on a buttery brioche roll.” And my waitress was, well, quite Friendly. However, I think the gal’s sunny demeanor had more to do with the lack of kids in my booth. It was, after all, the last day before school opened and she had probably served her umpteenth Cheesy Mac & Frank order.

But I’ll never eat at Friendly’s again. Do let me tell you why.

First off, I, like a fool, stood in line for 20 minutes for a seat while servers ignored tables strewn with sippy cups, uneaten grilled cheese crusts and puddles of Sour Patch Sundaes. Those of us in line could have been served much faster if someone just bussed the tables. I’ve seen tables at McDonald’s on the MassPike cleared faster than at this Friendly’s.

One grizzled waitress took down a couple of names then stopped. I think she thought the rest of us would just leave. That’s seems pretty bold since the Wilbraham company is two years out of Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection, but what do I know?

Actually, some not-so-hearty souls – mostly the AARP crowd – flew the scene after much Sturm und Drang. And when you consider that Friendly’s offers seniors a 10 percent discount on an entree and beverage, and throws in a free sundae, well, that’s sacrifice.

Finally, a server managed to clear a few tables and I scored a booth for two. The menu reminded me of the voluminous one at the Cheesecake Factory, but when you usually frequent joints with a one- or two-page menu, Friendly’s menu can seem daunting.

Friendly’s Cracker Jack Sundae and Sour Patch Sundae, two summer ice cream specials.

The only item that held my attention was the 820-calorie Cracker Jack Sundae. Sticky caramel corn, roasted peanuts and ice cream? Pinch me. Sadly, the nutrition gods rule me these days, so I opted for the turkey burger without fries. Yawn.

While I waited for my lunch, I whipped out my iPad to knock off a few chapters of a novel. I usually eavesdrop in restaurants, but the Friendly’s folks failed to entertain me.

Then, all of a sudden, an arm reached in front of my face and across the table to the napkin dispenser along the wall. No “Excuse me,” no “May I….” A kid in his late teens needed to blow his nose, so instead of a visit to the restroom, he got out of line, crossed over to the other side of the room to my table and raided my napkins!

I thought maybe it was a move to steal my iPad. But more likely, it was a dare from one of his buddies since after Mr. Snotty honked and spewed into the nicked napkins, he returned to the line. Jerk.

I was stunned. My Inside Track partner Gayle and I used to joke that I was invisible after the many times on the job I was walked into or I had to swerve to avoid a full-frontal collision. But this brazen napkin napping was a new low. And instead of a good whack on the arm or a call for security (was there even a manager?), I settled for my trademark look of disgust-slash-outrage that has served me well in the past and wouldn’t get me arrested for assault.

Of course since then I’ve thought of a million things I could have done a la George Constanza in “Seinfeld.” Remember the “Jerk Store” episode?

‘Hey, George, the Ocean called. They’re running out of shrimp.’

I felt defeated by the whole Friendly’s experience. Instead, I ate the turkey patty, picked at the cole slaw and asked my waitress to put my iced tea in a to-go cup.

“I absolutely can do that,” said the eager-to-please sunny server. (Seriously. That’s verbatim.)

I paid my bill but hesitated to leave the cash tip on the table. Now that I was armed with knowledge that someone from the line by the door wouldn’t hesitate to come over to swipe a napkin –- never mind cash — I sought out my waitress by the beverage dispenser to hand over $4. The tip included an extra buck as a reward for working in the place. God bless her.

I power-walked (yes, in that heat) away from Friendly’s back to the sanctuary of the Midas waiting area where I was the only customer. I took a seat away from the door — not that it made a difference – and looked longingly at Starbucks across busy Route 53 where the napkins are too scratchy for nose blowing…

Just Say No Or Just Say Yes: One RSVP Rager’s Story

August 6, 2014 - Posted in Parties, Party Hosting, RSVP, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized

I urge you to peruse my friend Beth Teitell’s story “RSVP Rage in the Modern Age” that appeared in the Boston Globe this week. It is a must-read for anyone who throws parties or

Public Enemy No. 1: The mailable RSVP card. (Photo by Minted.com)

gets invited to any ‘do that requires a simple yes or no response.

The RSVP (a French acronym for Répondez S’il Vous Plaît), an obligation to tell the invitee if you accept or regretfully decline the invitation to their event, has fallen out of fashion. Beth cites a survey by The Salonniere, a website for party throwers, that 30 percent of people who show up at soirees haven’t RSVP’d. And hosts are furious.

According to Beth’s report, online invitations get lost in our overcrowded, spam-infested inboxes, so no one pays much attention to them. As for an actual paper RSVP — such as one for a wedding — guests grumble about the laborious task of picking up a pen, ticking off “baked scrod” or “roast beef au jus” and making a trip to the mailbox. Oh, the inhumanity of it all.

As a hostess, it is maddening when guests – people who you care about enough to invite to your party – ignore an invitation or provide you with a “maybe.” Those on-the-fence folks are just holding out for a better offer. Like what? An invitation to golf with President Obama on the Vineyard? Fine. Go. I can’t compete with the Leader of the Free World. But you’ll be bored out of your gourd.

President Obama golfs on Vineyard. (Boston Herald photo by Nancy Lane)

President Barack Obama at Farm Neck Golf Course in Oak Bluffs. (Boston Herald photo by Nancy Lane)

So, yup, I have RSVP rage. And here’s why:

Parties cost money. Whether you host in your home or at a venue, there’s a big cost difference between 40 people and 60 people. At a self-catered home party, you must decide how many appetizers to make, how much liquor to buy. Restaurants or hotels charge by the head. So if you provide them a head count of 60 and only 40 people show, you are still on the hook for the 20 invitees that didn’t show. See why we rage?

“I thought you knew we were coming,” is one sentence I hope to never hear again by family member or friend because, you know, I’m not a mindreader and I’ve got to know how many crab cakes to make.

During my most recent flare-up of RSVP rage, I got a voice mail response that went something like this: “Hi, Laura. I’m RSVPing to the party. Call me back at…”

After counting to 10 and biting my lip, I rang back – and got voice mail. “Hello, X. Thank you for RSVPing. But are you coming? Not coming? Please let me know.”

Never heard back. Come to find out weeks later — through the grapevine -– the guest is attending and bringing three people not just the invited two. And I’m OK with that.

My late maternal grandmother was a big believer in “the more the merrier” celebration credo. Grammie would get a family wedding invitation and write “6” on the RSVP card instead of “1.” Because it’s the Italian way. I can’t remember ever going hungry at one of those ziti-and-chicken fests. But still…

Look, I’m no Emily Post. In fact, I’ve managed to let invitations fall through the cracks over the years, but mostly they were amongst the thousands Gayle and I received in the course of writing the Inside Track for over 20 years.

However, if we didn’t get an invitation to a party we absolutely had to attend? Oh, trust me, we ended up on the list anyway. At least the party’s hosts knew we were coming.

Kooking with the Kardashians? Like, Seriously?

July 24, 2014 - Posted in Barefoot Contessa, Celebrities, celebrity foodies, cookbooks, Cooking, Ina Garten, LauraRaposa, snark, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized

I haven’t — nor will I ever — read Kris Jenner‘s new cookbook, “In The Kitchen With Kris: A Kollection Of Kardashian-Jenner Family Favorites,” but that’s never stopped me from serving up a snarky opinion.

This over-publicized Hollywood how-to written, ahem, by the matriarch of the Kardashian clan is 300 pages of her own recipes and entertaining tips. Apparently, Mama Kris was fed up with sharing her recipes with family and friends. So it just made sense “do to a book and put it all together,” she told E!, the cable network that airs all the Kardashian klaptrap.

But when asked by the gushing E! anchor/drama queen Giuliana Rancic about her specialty, Kris didn’t wax prolific about her pasta primavera or lemon chiffon pie. She dished that she makes “a mean grilled cheese” for her grandchildren.

Grilled cheese. And this woman gets a cookbook deal.

Kris, who is separated from Olympic hero Bruce Jenner and his scary face, said she spends time in the kitchen to decompress from running the vast Kardashian Empire.

“[Cooking] is almost like the way that I calm down. Some people do things to relax, they’ll go play golf or have a sport. Me? I’m in the kitchen,” she said. “Nothing makes me happier, so I hope I can share that with everybody else.”

Relax? With two screaming grandkids clamoring for grilled cheese? More power to you, Grammy.

These “celebrity” cookbooks make me crazy. No. 1 on my list: Gwyneth Paltrow. You know her British rocker hubby Chris Martin consciously uncoupled from the Hollywood food Nazi because all the man wanted was to eat a plate of greasy fish ‘n’ chips without being judged.

Chris Martin (chrismartincoldplay.blogspot.com)

Think I’m kidding? He announced on BBC2 shortly after they split he was no longer a vegetarian.

Jessica Seinfeld, wife of Jerry, got a book deal for hiding vegetables in her kids’ food. Why waste your time concocting spinach brownies when all you have to do to get your kids to eat veggies is threaten them with taking away their iPad for the night? They’ll love Brussels sprouts.

Need I go on?

If you’re eager to know what puts the junk in the trunks of the Kardashian girls, Kris’ book is due out in October.

For those of us who really cook and entertain without staff, I’ve got my eye on Ina Garten’s “Make It Ahead” that is due out a week later.

Speaking of the Barefoot Contessa, if you’re looking for a real “mean grilled cheese” recipe – and aren’t we all? – do check out Ina’s Ultimate Grilled Cheese – bacon, Dijon, three cheeses, sourdough bread… (add lip smack here) Jeffrey loves it. Kris’ grandkids would hate it.

I’m Greens With Envy

June 18, 2014 - Posted in America's Test Kitchen, Beef, Chicken, Chopped Salad, Cook's Illustrated, Cooking, diet, Father's Day, Father's Day, gastric sleeve, LauraRaposa, protein, Salad Dressing, Salads, Side Dishes, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized, WholeFoods

I’m dying for a salad. Any kind of salad – Greek, Caesar, Cobb (sans egg), spinach, mesclun… At this point I’d attack a wedge of iceberg like it was an apple and I was a starving rabbit.

I can still taste Christo’s Famous Greek Salad

True confession: I actually mewled when I passed by the salad bar at Whole Foods the other day. Never, EVER did I think that would happen to me given the decades of forced salad bar eating. And how did that work out for me? Um, as you know, not well.

It’s been a month and four days since my gastric sleeve surgery. Yes, I’m losing weight – and damn happy about it — but who wouldn’t drop pounds on 600 calories a day? Right now, protein is king. I begin the day with a Nectar high protein shake followed by small amounts of protein (i.e. Chobani 100 vanilla yogurt and Cabot 75% Reduced Fat Cheddar) throughout the rest of the day.

Trouble is, my stomach won’t tolerate “soft proteins” such as chicken, some fish, ground turkey or beans. And until my hinky, albeit smaller, tummy gets used to those proteins, I cannot add raw vegetables or fruit into my diet. You’d think I’d be happy about this, right?

(Don’t even start with me about that carbohydrates-filled food terrorist known as bread. I need to breathe into a paper bag when I find myself in a known terrorist hot spot like a bakery, but that’s another blog post.)

On Father’s Day last Sunday, I made a “steakhouse” dinner for the dads – marinated and grilled sirloin tips — a recipe from Cook’s Illustrated’s “Summer Grilling” issue (thumb’s up, BTW) — served with oven-baked steak “fries” and a big chopped salad.

I went for the chopped salad for two reasons. First, my brother refuses to eat iceberg lettuce because of its low nutritional value so the traditional steakhouse bleu cheese wedge sprinkled with bacon was a no-go.

Traditional steakhouse salad

He’s a dad, so in the spirit of Father’s Day, what’s a girl to do? Secondly, I had coveted my aunt’s chopped salad at the Capital Grille in Providence the other night. I swear it called to me as I sat next to her. #getinmybelly

Chopped salad is a time-consuming task. Thankfully, I only had to prepare it for 7 people. The ingredients are simple. I used multi-colored cherry tomatoes, a few mini English cucumbers, Vidalia onion, red and yellow peppers, drained and washed chickpeas, and romaine lettuce. Two things to remember: Use a sharp chef’s knife, and don’t chop the chickpeas. In fact, all the salad fixings should be cut as small as a chickpea.

Chop, chop. chop! Add romaine and toss with vinaigrette. (Photo by domesticate-me.com)

I would have added chopped black olives – we had some left over from the antipasto we had as a starter — but my husband loathes them. True, he’s not a dad, but his wife is desperate for him to eat his greens even if she cannot. And if we didn’t have the platter of antipasto with its tasty provolone, I would have added little cubes of cheese to the salad.

The vinaigrette was easy to put together in a glass jar: 3 parts Italian extra virgin olive oil to 1 part red wine vinegar, 1 minced garlic clove, 2 or 3 tsp. of Dijon mustard, ½ tsp. each of dried thyme, basil and oregano, kosher salt and black pepper to taste. Then shake.

If you get carried away like I did, marinate chicken breasts in the extra dressing, grill them, put them atop a chopped salad with some avocado — and count your blessings. Sob.

True Confessions: From Gastronomy to the Gastric Sleeve

May 31, 2014 - Posted in Baking, Cooking, diet, gastric sleeve, Goat Cottage Farm, Grocery Stores, LauraRaposa, protein, sugar, tuftsmedicalcenter, Uncategorized

Anyone who knows me is well aware of my love of food. I like to cook it, bake it, eat it, write about it, talk ad nauseum about it and was humiliated on national TV because of it. I even gave up a 30-year career in daily journalism to pursue my food-inspired talents.

So why would I undergo a surgical procedure to undermine all that? Seems a little crazy, right?

Not if you are a pre-diabetic, overweight woman who suffers from low thyroid, high blood pressure, and somewhat-high cholesterol with a family history of obesity and heart disease. Then it’s a no brainer.

On May 14 at Tufts Medical Center, I had gastric sleeve surgery. It’s a less invasive procedure than the gastric bypass and has a better weight loss rate than the lap band. In fact, I’m told the Weight and Wellness Center at Tufts prefers not to do the lap band procedure because of the high rate of repeat offenders.

I start the morning with Nectar.

Since that time I have been on a liquid diet, then a protein shake-yogurt-soup-cottage cheese-Jell-O tapioca regimen but now I can have a little “soft protein” – chicken, tuna, fish, and beans. But my shrunken stomach (it’s about 2.5 ounces now) is having a hard time with it. Got my fingers crossed for a teeny bit of swordfish tonight.

Oh, I’ve lost 12 pounds since my surgery day. And I am never hungry.

I’ve eaten things in the last three weeks that you couldn’t have paid me to eat before surgery: sugar-free Carnation Instant Breakfast, Hood Cottage Cheese with Chives, canned soups, sugar free Popsicles and wretched Ocean Spray Diet Cranberry Juice. Which, by the way, should not be confused with Ocean Spray 100% Juice that does contain 36 grams of sugar and is ever-so-more drinkable at 140 calories a cup.

Grocery shopping takes forever because you must check the protein, sugar and fat content of every item you pick off the shelves. A protein drink by Odwalla? The sugar is sometimes more than double than the 12 to 14 grams I am allowed. Not exactly a “healthy item.”

Memorial Day Weekend was a test from God. Thankfully, my mother flat-out refused my offers to cook. I really didn’t feel like it anyway.

Elizabeth’s in Fairhaven (Photo courtesy of Yelp)

Saturday, we dined at Elizabeth’s in Fairhaven. Well, the family dined. I ate contraband cottage cheese and some broth from the restaurant’s soup du jour. That foray gave new meaning to “glutton for punishment.” The next night, the rels gathered to eat a delectable grilled fish dinner at my aunt and uncle’s house. I ate soup on a TV tray since I couldn’t bear being at the table. The next day, I coveted the kids’ grilled hot dogs while I sat at the table with a Chobani 100 vanilla yogurt.

“Why aren’t you eating a hot dog, Auntie? You love hot dogs,” said Melanie, 6.

“Yes, I do, but I’m on a special diet this weekend, Mellie,” I said. “So you can have my potato chips.” (Thankfully, that brought the diet conversation to a screeching halt as she reached into the basket of chips.)

Bread, my first love and future cash cow, doesn’t even factor into the diet until the next stage when I see from the sample menus in my workbook that I’ll be allowed half of an Fiber One English muffin. And I will be damn grateful.

Mmmm…Seven Stars bread

I went into Seven Stars Bakery in Providence the other day to pick up a baguette for my husband’s dinner. That was a wah-wah show. I had to put the bag in the back of my station wagon for the ride home so I wouldn’t be tempted. Those damn cinnamon buns I got on a whim (?) were rather fragrant and the walnut-raisin bread was calling to me…

So what about the Bakery at Goat Cottage Farm? We have a kitchen design (!) for our commercial bakery so it’s all systems go. Fingers crossed. I’m not doing any taste-testing right now. But there will come a time in the months ahead when there will be items to sample and I will have to do it. However, my first allegiance every day will be to my new BFF, Protein. I will have an exercise routine by this time, as well, so the tasting won’t undo months of hard work.

Hey, if chefs can go under the knife then continue to run their restaurants, I can do this, too. I hope.

I’ve always been overweight except for three years in college. My graduation dress was a size 8. My guess is I won’t get down to that dress size again, but The Foodsmith will be a healthier person heading into later life. That’s all I want. Now, pass me a sugar free pudding…

Twenty-Two Things I Love About My Mother

May 10, 2014 - Posted in LauraRaposa, Mom, Mother's Day, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized

1. She thinks because she didn’t go to college she’s not as smart as some people. Truth be told, she’s smarter.

2. Mom’s the best judge of character.

Camilla at a floral arranging class in 2012.

3. She doesn’t hesitate to pinch me under the table when she thinks I should shut up.

4. Kids at family gatherings surround Auntie Camilla like she’s Mary Poppins.

5. In nearly every holiday photo we have, Mom wears an apron.

6. She’s 100 percent Italian so there is always more than enough food.

7. She wanted to be a dental hygienist, but she and her sisters had to work to put their brother through college. In retrospect, she should have pursued the career anyway considering the amount of money she’s spent on her teeth over the years. The amount is staggering.

8. No one is better at customer service than Mom. (She called me last week to Google where to buy commercial ovens in Providence for people who just walked into her store because they thought she sold them.)

9. She has no idea how funny she is. (Yes, I know this sentence is grammatically incorrect.)

Mom with Russell and Paige on Easter Sunday 2014

Mom, Russell, Paige and her Apron on Christmas Day 2014

10. She treats my brother and me like we’re still 10 years old, but she also treats her little sister, who is 60something, like she’s 10.

11. She makes no apologies for being a control freak. It’s a cross we who love her must bear.

12. Mom feels guilty that I’ve inherited her ankles, bad circulation and arthritic knees, so I always have her sympathy when I feel sore.

13. She treats my father and brother like it’s the 1960s so she thinks I should be more Laura Petrie than Laura Raposa. (I told you she was funny.)

14. I love to make her laugh.

15. She always brings treats — albeit healthy ones — in the car when I drive her to a doctor’s appointment in Boston.

16. It takes Mom an hour to eat one lobster and she savors every bite.

A lobstah? There will be nothing left! (Note the apron.)

17. She’s never decorated a cake in her life, but can advise customers on how to do it like she’s the Cake Boss.

18. She’s “hates that Facebook” but she’s on it every night so she won’t miss any photos of “the kids.”

19. She’s had an iPhone for a year and still cannot retrieve voicemail. But the woman can text and add emoticons like a teenager.

20. Mom insisted she help me bake for 400 people in the bakery at Lees Market last September even though she worked all day and had leg pain. Oh, she also brought dinner.

21. She’s got a big heart and is the most generous woman I know.

22. My mother has lived in Rhode Island and Massachusetts since 1960 but hasn’t lost her Maine accent. (It adds a little bit of Moxie to everything she says.)

Laura Petrie

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! With love from Your Daughter

I Survived Wegmans…Barely

May 2, 2014 - Posted in Bread, Cheese, Food Shopping, Grocery Stores, LauraRaposa, Supermarkets, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized, Wegmans

CHESTNUT HILL — It started with parking attendants directing cars like they do at Gillette Stadium, and then moved onto a scrum at the Asian hot take-away bar. There was incessant choo-chooing of an overhead train by the dairy case that drew screams from a overexcited tot named Adam. Maybe it was the mosh pit of blue hairs by the $4.99 rotisserie chickens…

So, you see, it wasn’t love at first sight for Wegmans and me. And I tried, I really did.

Wegmans before it opened last Sunday. (Boston Globe Photo)

We’ve heard about this grocery store to end all grocery stores slated for this tony retail strip on Route 9 for at least two years. The Rochester, N.Y. supermarket chain opened its first Bay State store in Northborough in 2011 with much fanfare. However, that gargantuan groceria out in the western ‘burbs is twice the size of the newest food emporium in chi-chi Chestnut Hill Square. And can I tell you the baby Wegmans could use a little more moving around room?

Apparently, if you have an ass, the new Wegmans – measuring in at a mere 70,000 square feet — isn’t for you. So, if you must go, wear Spanx. Or stay in the car (preferably a Lexus, the official vehicle of the Chestnut Hill Weggies).

I must have said “Excuse me” at least 25 times in the hour I spent in the store wheeling around my small cart and playing dodge ‘em with marauding families shopping in packs (at 2 p.m. on Wednesday?), the AARP types gawking at what was left of a swordfish carcass and the Chronic Samplers I thought I left behind at Costco.

Wegmans carries over 300 cheeses. (Boston Globe Photo)

Look, you sample hogs, Cheese Guy and I both know you’re not going to pay $17.99 for stinky French Epoisses, but I am. So move over, Mr. Cracker Barrel and let me ask if they carry Humboldt Fog. I don’t even need to taste it. Grr.

I know you’ll be shocked. But not one person, who bumped me or blocked the egress to the spiffy digital produce scale excused herself. Yes, herself. I felt like I was in France. Où est la sortie?????

However, I did meet some nice, helpful, knowledgeable kids from Maryland, New Jersey and Pennsylvania who were sent up to Massachusetts to “open” the store. The girls in the bakery, where I bought a yummy pumpernickel raisin walnut loaf ($6.50) and a 7-Grain batard ($5) were “psyched” about their hotel breakfast, I overheard as one of them sliced the raisin pump. Apparently, the pancakes were TODIEFOR and that led me to wonder if Wegmans put up its the opening crew at the Four Seasons or IHOP.

Moving right along… the prepared food case, the battleground between Wegmans and Whole Foods, was a draw. The Whole wins on variety and aesthetics. The folks from Rochester lacked variety, however I did score some tasty kale and quinoa cakes for $2 each as well as two pieces of Chicken Parmesan ($13.64). My husband, the Chicken Parm King, declared his dinner – I added the side of cavatappi — “delicious.”

Unlike Whole Foods, Wegmans also slaps the calorie count on the label along with the ingredient list. Those kale cakes were 180 calories each (!) and Steve consumed about 500 calories of chicken parm. Do I dare tell him?

The take-away bars – the aforementioned Asian, salad, fruit, Mediterranean, etc. – had lots of choices and were popular. I managed the use of tongs at the fruit bar for six pieces of pineapple. It was a small victory until I tried to eat it in the car and the juice dribbled down my down vest. Better than that burrito I coveted but didn’t buy, I thought.

Monkey Bread? (Boston Globe Photo)

Points for the bakery department. It had LOTS of bread to choose from as well as cupcakes, muffins and other breakfast items. But, does anyone in the greater Chestnut Hill area eat an actual carb, I thought as I perused the parade of Lululemon-clad yummy mummies who just dashed in from Pilates upstairs at Equinox.

I felt bad for my bakery girls, so I bought two loaves because I’m a sucker for a bakery — even in a supermarket.

There was, to my surprise, a loose tea bar. The last time I saw one of those was at a food co-op in Lebanon, N.H. Good variety, too. I managed to scoop a blood orange tisane ($3.96) into a little bag whilst getting the hairy eyeball from the Keurig Couple beside me with their large cart with two items in it. (See ‘ass,’ above.)

The dry goods section looked like BJ’s Wholesale Club, so I didn’t bother to wade in too deep. I did see in the dairy case that the 32-ounce Wegmans Greek Vanilla Yogurt was 10 cents cheaper than the same size Chobani this week. So that was a plus. Too bad I had Brown Cow stacked up in my fridge at home…

I did not feel the need to go upstairs to the liquor store to feign interest in 3,000 bottles of wine, beer and hard stuff from around the world. My friend, Dan O’Brien, got giddy about the $6 bottles of Wegmans wine when I asked for his impressions of the store. Although the cheapo vino sounds very much like Trader Joe’s Two Buck Chuck, no?

It appears Wegmans is in competition with everyone. But, I’m afraid, Dan Wegman and his family are going to have to work a little harder to woo this girl back…ass willing.

I Had to Share…

April 11, 2014 - Posted in Apples, Bakery, Baking, Bread, Cooking, Farmers markets, Farming, Farms, Food Shopping, Foodie travel, Fruit, Hudson Valley, LauraRaposa, Mushrooms, Pasta, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized, Vegetables

this Zagat post with you since I am a HUGE fan of New York’s Hudson Valley.

Besides my gazillion trips to the Culinary Institute of America for bootcamps and one-day classes (they really should give me a diploma by now), I plan my spring through fall forays around the Rhinebeck Farmers Market. It is, hands down, the best farmers market I have ever attended. And I’ve been to dozens and dozens of them.

In fact, if my stand-up comedian friend, Stephanie Peters, is playing Poughkeepsie, I jump at the chance to be her chauffeuse because I know that, on Sunday before heading back to Boston, I will reap my rewards in Rhinebeck.

The produce and flowers on sale under tents in a parking lot are pricey but out-of-the field fresh and gorgeous. And the variety of just-picked apples come the fall is downright silly. My first crrrrunch of a Honey Crisp was at this outdoor market. So, yes, I’ve been attending this market for years.

Besides the produce, Stephanie is a huge fan of the farm-raised meats, pasta and wine. I cram my cooler (oh, you MUST bring a large cooler) with artisan cheese, earthy mushrooms, berries, fresh juice and pasta. This is why we travel in my station wagon.

We pick up also pick up loaves of still-warm bread from Tivoli Baking Co., but only because we’re going to race home to Stef’s house in Cambridge for dinner. No time to stop!

Something to remember before you go: Eat a good breakfast even if you’ve gorged yourself all weekend at the CIA. If you don’t, you’ll find yourself back at the ATM after 15 minutes. Trust me on this.

There is always music at the market, but the only t-shirts and tote bags for sale are those with the market’s logo on them since the operation relies on donations and sponsorships. You won’t find people hawking jewelry or hand-carved pan flutes or other nonsense. It’s all about food. You’ve gotta love that about this farmers market…

The outdoor Rhinebeck Farmers Market runs on Sundays from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. from Mother’s Day to Thanksgiving. It is located in a municipal parking lot at 61 East Market St. in the village of Rhinebeck, NY.