If you’re new here, welcome. I’m Elizabeth — part-time cook, full-time dreamer, and the voice behind Seasons of Possibility. Enjoy this weekly dispatch of Delicious Bits — musings and recipes from my kitchen.
This post, the first in an occasional series, was sparked by Wil Readie’s piece on the often-overlooked human side of restaurants — the cooks and servers who make the magic happen, yet are too often treated as invisible once the meal is done. In a moment when the world feels so heavy, turning to fine dining might seem incongruous; that tension is what pushed me to consider the experience more closely, and what it means to take part in it from the diner’s side of the table.
I first wrote this ten years ago for my now-defunct blog. I’ve updated it here, as revisiting the story feels like the right place to begin sharing new reflections on the art of hospitality.
In 1990 Alain Ducasse was the youngest chef ever to receive 3 Michelin stars, at Restaurant Louis XV. The world’s biggest McDonald’s opened its doors in Moscow in 1990, and the introduction of a new food pyramid that year once again admonished us to eat a variety of foods, maintain a healthy weight and choose a diet with plenty of fruits, vegetables and grains.
That was also the year we got married. Neither a lover of McDonald's nor a gourmand with aspirations to go to Monaco, it was enough that I was trying in my own small way to learn to cook for two in a tiny kitchen that was no bigger than a walk in closet.
It wasn’t until 1995 that we had our first Michelin dining experience.
Paris. A beautiful June day. The Place des Vosges, and a coveted table at L’Ambroisie. Je suis désolé de le dire seulement une table à déjeuner est disponible, madame. Only a table available at lunch? C’est pas grave! We’ll take it. It was our first trip to France, and we were in the gourmet capital of the world, n’est pas? Surely a Michelin meal was in order.
A menu full of phrases even my French speaking husband didn’t quite understand. Mine without prices, my husband quickly calculating that the cost of the simple seasonal soup was more than our entire dinner the night before. The sommelier expertly opening our prized half bottle of wine and swirling, tasting, discarding(!) the first precious sip before delicately pouring us a glassful. Predating the ubiquitous smart phone, and certainly the brashness of food bloggers whipping out a camera to digitally record every mouthful and amuse bouche, the meal remains a blur of sensations, at once elevated, subtle and oh so French.
While we’ve had our share of memorable Michelin meals in the years between that Paris lunch and today, stars were not the lens through which we judged a meal’s greatness. And yet the quest for the next delicious taste – whether a burger or a bouillabaisse – remained insatiable. Planning a trip, especially for me, started with not “what shall we do?” but “where shall we eat?”
Fast forward to 2015, and our 25th wedding anniversary.
It seemed inevitable that we would go on a trip of some sort – after all, this was the age of the “experience", the “moment”, or the collection of moments; trips that can fill a memory card and a memory bank full with stories to talk about, perhaps even to brag about a little. Where, however, was another question.
And that’s when my brilliant husband conceived of the best journey of all.
“Instead of taking a trip,” Richard suggested, “why don’t we try to visit the Top 25 Restaurants in the world?”
My heart stopped and then raced forward. A grand adventure! Full of food and planes, exotic locales and crazy chefs, foraged ingredients and time honoured traditions. Of course I knew which 25 restaurants he meant. Ever since Restaurants magazine introduced the The World's 50 Best list in 2002, the imaginations of food adventurers the world over had been captured, each year's list revealing new innovators alongside the elder statesmen of cuisine. We knew Noma was number one on that year’s list, but as to who rounded out the rest of the World's 50 Best, I could only guess at.
It didn't really matter. I was in.
Would we really be able to go from Stockholm to Singapore, from Lima to London, from Modena to Manhattan, in a mere 12 months? And what would happen when the new list came out midway through our trek? Would we change course? Or would we approach this more organically, choosing 25 from that illustrious list of 50, position be damned?
And so began a journey of a thousand bites. Scaling the Mount Everest of food has had its perils and pitfalls, including the small matter of a global pandemic. The lofty ambition of a year of serious eating quickly came up hard against reality and life.
It’s been ten years since we set that goal, and to date we’ve eaten at 22 of these palaces of gastronomy—the humble Excel sheet I began with still darting between winners, fallen idols, and fresh arrivals faster than a ping-pong rally.
What we discovered, of course, is that it was never really about ticking boxes on a list. As we marked a special chapter in our lives, we were also celebrating the remarkable magicians who dream about food and conjure the unimaginable from the simplest ingredients every single day. In the process of discovering these places both far flung and closer to home, we began to truly appreciate the mastery—and the incredibly difficult work—of creating extraordinary experiences day in and day out.
But we were also constantly reminded about what we knew all along…that the best meals are the unexpected adventures, the spontaneous, the humble…that we will always keep it real with back street finds and local favourites…and that a truly great burger is always exactly right, no matter the mood or occasion.
This new occasional series here at Delicious Bits will be my table for sharing my thoughts—about the evolution of food; about the nature of service and the theatre of dining; about food writers and influencers and the role that social media plays in our perceptions about what is truly great and what is mediocrity disguised as genius—in the world of food, and elsewhere.
Through all this, one thing is for certain. Food nourishes us beyond sustenance. It brings us joy, it draws us together, it is the glue that creates extraordinary moments, both microscopic and all encompassing. I look forward to hearing about your view of things from your seat at the table.
Did you know that clicking the ❤️ here or below helps more readers discover Delicious Bits? It’s like seasoning — a small thing that makes a big difference.
Tortino di fiori di zucca ripieni (stuffed zucchini flower tart)
Tuscany, Mario Matassa
serves four
While beautiful zucchini flowers have been used in Italian “cucina povera” cooking for more than 300 years, they have also become a feature of fine dining menus, their exotic shape and delicate flavour a perfect vehicle for culinary flights of fancy.
In this recipe, the flowers return to their humble roots, slipping into something far more approachable: a rustic tart that comes together quickly. The stuffing preserves the shape of the flowers and the final result is both lovely and satisfying.
Note: We’re lucky to get our zucchini flowers from a farmer who removes the stamens before packaging them. If you have to remove the stamens yourself, fold back the delicate flowers and snip the stamens at their root with a small pair of sewing scissors, tucked in your kitchen drawer for just such a purpose.
Ingredients
Unsalted butter
100 g (about 1 cup) minced ground beef or pork
1 mild Italian sausage, preferably with fennel seed, casing removed
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
Two tarragon sprigs, leaves removed and chopped (discard stems)
6 eggs
80 g (about 1 cup) grated Parmigiana Reggiano cheese
1–2 tablespoons breadcrumbs (optional)
12 large zucchini flowers, stamens removed (see Note)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 tablespoons tomato sauce or tomato passata (bottled tomato purée)
salt and pepper
Heat the oven to 180°C/350°F and grease a round 8-inch baking dish with butter.
Mix together the beef, sausage meat, garlic, tarragon and 1 egg in a bowl. Reserve 2 tablespoons of the Parmigiana and add the remainder to the bowl. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Work the mixture with a wooden spoon until it becomes smooth, gradually adding the breadcrumbs if necessary.
Using a small spoon, place about 1 tablespoon of the mixture into each zucchini flower. Handle the petals gently; any small tears will close as the flowers cook.
Heat the oil in a wide, deep frying pan over medium-low heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes or until softened. Carefully add the stuffed flowers and cook until golden brown and the stuffing mixture is cooked through, about 5 to 7 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and transfer the flowers to the prepared baking pan.
Beat the remaining eggs with the remaining Parmigiana and the tomato sauce in a bowl, season with salt and pepper and pour the mixture into the pan. Put the pan on a baking sheet and bake for 20 minutes or until the mixture is firm to the touch.
Remove the pan from the oven and let stand for 5 minutes, then slice into wedges and serve immediately.
Sources:The Annals of Botany, Teresa A. Lust , Harry S. Paris, July 2016
So lovely Elizabeth! And you look so chic in your wedding photo! 😍😍
You are very lucky to have the ability to go on such an adventure!