Villa Kelada

To get to Saint Vallier-de-Thiey, a mere 31km from Cannes (I’m trying to start thinking in terms of the metric system, although my mind’s eye is still having trouble visualizing the distance, it’s about 19mi), up about 800 meters in elevation (about 2600 feet) into the foothills of the Alps. The little stone town is located about 15 minutes from Grasse along the famous route Nepoleon, which stretches from Cannes to Grenobles, and is a busy throughway for travelers.  Saint Vallier-de-Thiey is quiet and quaint, consisting of a main brasserie (French café where everyone knows your name), a boulangerie (the bakery), and a few restaurants (none of note). On Sundays they hold a market providing various odds-n-ends and fresh produce. It is a small and beautiful country village, but the real gem of the town is Villa Kelada!

Villa Kelada is located off the main drag, just far enough that you don’t pick up the noise from traffic or the white light from the town (billions of stars cascade overhead at night), but near enough that you can stroll easily into town in the morning to pick up fresh croissants (It is one of my goals to unlock the secrets of the French Croissant, it's gotta be the butter or the water, or the dough or the knuckles of a fifth generation baker?? Further posts pending). The villa was a dream house created from scratch by Madame Blum in the ‘80s. It was constructed completed from stone quarried from the surrounding area and sprawls with arching walkways, balconies overlooking the valley that catch the setting sun over the Alps, and gorgeous facades on all sides.  Yet, as beautiful as this four bedroom, two story structure is, it is complemented (if not overshadowed) by gorgeous grounds comprising of a backyard garden, interspersed evergreens, delicately trimmed bushes, wild-flowers, stone pathways, and a full-length salt-water pool.  This vision was all laid out meticulously by Mme Blum and has been superbly maintained by my beau-perè, Asaad Kelada, who took over ownership in 1990.  The last five years, my mom has been putting to work her exceptional taste adding design touches to the kitchen, livingroom, downstairs “media room” and throughout the outside, creating a distinctive style and grace to this traditional Provencal Villa.  It is truly a dream vacation home.

The past three weeks have been all about relaxing and enjoying the down time with family. Days have been filled with sitting by the pool (Jay trying desperately to hang on to her Sardinian tan), playing cards (endless games of cards), day trips to Juan-les-Pins and Grasse, and dinners both at home and out at restaurants. Mom is a phenomenal cook and she utilized the fresh ingredients from local farmers' markets to whip up dazzling charcuterie platters for lunch and traditional Provençal dishes for dinner (grilled lamb, boiled artichokes, sautéed veggies, yum!). I haven't enjoyed this type of luxury since high-school, thanks Mom! It has been a very relaxing and much needed respite, perfect to recharge the batteries with ample time to spend with my family, couldn't ask for a better vacation!

Mom, Jay, Asaad, and Me

What exactly is a Rosé?

Don’t be afraid of rosé! They are fantastic wines that often pair with most foods and are perfect for trips to the beach, light lunches, or afternoon charcuterie as one is wont to have in Provence!

Rosé, whether sparkling or still, means one thing, that the wine comes from red grapes and has spent a minor amount of time “on the skins”, which is the key to a wine’s color.  All juice from grapes is clear (what?), meaning that if you press a grape that is either yellow or red, the juice will be clear (except for extremely rare cases called Teinturier).  Therefore you can get white wine from red grapes (also very rare), but you must have red grapes to make red wine.  How wine gets its color is dependent on the time that juice spends soaking and fermenting with (or “on”) the skins.  This process also imparts varying degrees of flavor and texture (to be discussed in other posts). A rosé wine spends considerably less time soaking on the skins and therefore is not considered a red wine.

Essentially rosé can be made from any red grape, but winemakers through the centuries have found that certain grapes make better rosé.  In Cotê de Provence, where arguably the best rosé comes from (not arguably, they are the best) the predominant grape is Grenache (at least 60% by law), with Syrah, Cinsault, Mourvedre, and Carignan playing supporting roles. It’s important to note that Pinot Noir also makes exceptional rosé in other parts of the word (if you see one, try it!).

Rosé ranges in color from pale “onion” skin orange to a vivid near-purple, depending on the varietals used and winemaking techniques.  My mom always chooses rose by color, “the paler the better” is her motto, and she is not often wrong. As mentioned before, the color of the wine comes from the time the juice spends in contact with the skin and the more contact with the skin brings more full, direct, and sometimes sharper flavors. Personally, I like a very pale pink rosé, usually delivering balanced acidity, light strawberry and raspberry notes, and a very refreshing drinkability, but test 'em out to see which type you like best. Cheers!

The best way to enjoy rosé

Le Festival d'Art Pyrotechnique in Cannes

Here is a video of England performing "I will always love you" by Whitney Houston

The 2015 Festival d'Art Pyrotechnique in Cannes was an absolutely amazing experience. Countries from around the world compete each week for best firework exposition.  Set to music and the incredible backdrop of the Cote d'Azur, this is a must see event if you are in the area.

My Favorite Salad

I have found my favorite salad. Le Salade Rendez-Vous is served at Café Rendez-Vous in Grasse.  It is perfect. Translucent jambon (prosciutto) frames a thin line of tomatoes, mozzarella and pesto, with sun-dried tomatoes dripped with olive oil dotting the "i", all on a bed of mixed greens lightly drizzled with a balsamic vinaigrette.  Add to that three crostini with roquefort and a breadstick and you have the best salad ever created, simple and absolutely delicious!

I'm sure enjoying that salad a lot!

Juan-les-Pins and Hôtel Belles Rives

Juan les Pins has become our go-to beach in the Cote d’Azure.  The plage (beach, I'm so French) is located in the next cove south of Antibes between Nice and Cannes.  It is a beautiful white sand beach (unlike Nice, which is surprisingly rocky) with clear blue water (nothing like Sardinia #spoiled), overlooking some pretty daunting yachts on the horizon. The beach still consists of row upon row of beach chairs offered for a premium price by various Beach Clubs, yet doesn’t have the posh overwhelming vibe of Cannes. The water is warm and inviting and if you happen to get a chair in the front row (it’s taken us 5 years of palm greasing Dadu at Le Pirate Beach Club to get a set of four), provides endless fun watching the social elite “prance” along the beach.  The surrounding town offers quaint and high end shopping alike (this is where my mom gets her coveted iPhone covers). The Cote d'Azur is a special place and if you visit, I highly recommend visiting this beach town.

Parking in this congested beach town is tricky, so we frequently use the valet at the Hôtel Belles Rives. Beyond the convenience of hassle free parking, walking through the extravagant 5-Star hotel lobby, one is treated to one of the most spectacular views of the Cote d’Azur (honestly worth the minor valet fee just to walk through the hotel).  Rumored to be where Fitzgerald stayed when writing The Great Gatsby.  While I haven't had the opportunity to stay at this hotel (yet), I did have the great fortune of dining there.  We were treated to exceptional service and food at La Passagère restaurant located on the terrace overlooking all of Juan-Les-Pains (seriously breathtaking).  The Maitre D’, Jullianne took fantastic care of us, catering to my sister’s extreme nut allergy by personally delivering each of her dishes and notifying her of which dishes on the table she could or could not try. The staff was attentive and professional. For dinner, I had seabass rolled in grape leaves, sprinkled with almonds and a delicate yuzu drizzle (superb), while Asaad and his sister ordered the Gamba special (deep water prawns that were as big as your head!). Finally after pre-dessert, dessert, and post-dessert (my sister was brought a special champagne shaved ice that was ridiculously good) we were smiling ear to ear, a fantastic experience and highly recommended if you have a special someone you want to impress.

Dov’é il Cuore? Dov’é Massimo?

Dov’é la Cuore? Dov’é Massimo? Where is the heart? Where is Mossimo? These were the questions we found ourselves asking as we made our way through dishes and wine pairings that were uninspiring, unintelligible, and eventually inedible. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning, the entrance, a locked door at the front of Osteria Francescana.

Approaching the unassuming door of Osteria Francescana, I was actually nervous. My heart beat a little bit faster in anticipation and I realized that I had never actually been anxious for a dinner before. Having made our reservation nine months prior, my anticipation was understandable. Having read numerous articles on Chef Massimo Bottura and watching his featured episode on Netflix, “Chef's Table”, my expectation for dining at the Michelin 3-Star and World Number 2 Restaurant (according to HERE) was unquestionably high. It would be this expectation and Massimo's lack of presence that would lead to one of the most disappointing dinners of my life.

After ringing the doorbell, the door opened on a simple and modern foyer, grey being the dominant color. Five gentleman stood at attention in immaculate suits, one broke stance and said, “How may we help you.” I replied, “Well, we have a reservation for dinner tonight.”

We were taken to our table, one of only twelve in the restaurant, in a room offset from the main dining room. There was a party of six seated at the only other table in the room (they would never become our friends). The table was exquisite, white table cloth, brushed porcelain olive oil bowl, gold leafed charger (I think that’s what you call a plate that you don’t eat off of that is there just to look pretty?). Jay and I looked at each other and laughed an uneasy “here we go” type of laugh.

After a few minutes a gentleman handed us menus, took our water order and left promptly without saying a word. A few minutes later, the Maitre d’ or Manager or Head Server, we’ll call him Pepe (I think that’s actually his name) approached the table and said, “Have you made your decisions?” Not one to miss an opportunity to talk to my fellow professional, I tried to engage Pepe in conversation, telling him that this was our first time here, how excited we were and how we had come all the way from Los Angeles, via a stop off in Sardinia, to which Pepe responded, “Very good, have you made your decisions?” (Wow, ok, not getting much out of this guy.) I then told him how we were looking for some guidance on the menu as dish names ranged from Eel Swimming up the Po River to Fish Soup.  We told him that we were thinking about the “Traditional Tasting Menu” but were also interested in maybe trying some items from the “Experimental Menu”. Pepe replied, “Very good, I will prepare you a 12-course combination menu,” and removed our menus from the table. My sister tried with one last gasp to engage Pepe by saying, “My brother is a Sommelier.” Pepe replied, “Very good, I will send over Andrea, our Sommelier.”  (Phew, that was intense.)

We sat for another few minutes talking about the thickness of the air in our dining room, but still very much looking forward to the meal ahead. Andrea, the Sommelier approached the table and said, “You have questions about the wine?” I told him that I was a Sommelier and that I was excited for the meal ahead and was very interested in pairing the dishes with wine. He replied, “We will take care of the wine pairing for your, thank you,” and he was off (good chat).

After another few minutes, our first dish arrived, a tempura Fish & Chips wafer with a dollop of Carpionne cream (which Jay hysterically dropped in her lap before making it into her mouth), a Rabbit Macaroon (which was smaller than my pinky fingernail, but actually had the most flavor of almost anything we tasted all night), and Baccala and Tomato (which my sister lovingly called a 50€ Hot Pocket). All this was paired with a delicious white wine from Sicily, wetting our palate for more.

The third dish was titled Mediterranean and consisted of cucumber ravioli (the ravioli shell was a thinly sliced cucumber) stuffed with eel. The ravioli sat in this beautifully green shallow mint broth sprinkled with flowers, fresh mint and gentle dollops of tzatziki. We had to inquire more about this dish. Our “server” told us that it was fashioned after the movie “Mediterranean” in which the Italians occupied Greece during WWII and were forced to fuse their cuisines. My sister replied, “Oh, like 'Captain Corelli's Mandolin', have you read that book?”  “No, I only have seen the movie,” the server replied. “Oh, well it’s like that then,” said my sister. “No, it’s not,” replied the server, “It’s like the movie I just told you about. Thank you, enjoy.”  (Blow Back. We died laughing a little bit).

"Mediterranean" not "Captain Corelli's Mandolin"

As you can imagine, it continued to go downhill from here. Dishes arrived and we would try to find out what the ingredients were or how the dish was prepared or why the wine was paired in such a way, only to be met with answers that confused us and led us to more questions. One such instance was a dish titled Abstract Asparagus, Prosciutto, and Peas Tagliolini. The server described the dish as a traditional springtime pasta made in Modena, deconstructed into a soup (for those uninitiated to this term, “deconstructing” a dish is like the burrito bowl at Chipotle, all the ingredients of the burrito, just opened up and displayed in a different form. Please forgive me for using Chipotle in this example.). It was in fact a soup that was supposed to taste like pasta. I asked how the chef made a soup from pasta? He replied, “It’s like a miso.” I said, “Well what does that mean, does he just soak the noodles and use that broth.” He said, “No, do you know how they make a miso? It’s similar. Thank you, enjoy.”  Further complicating this dish, was an obscure white wine from Piedmont, Italy that had strong notes of musty melon and lychee, totally uncomplimentary of our liquid pasta miso soup.  This was going from bad to worse.

Dishes continued to arrive, servers continued to not explain what they were, my sister and I continued to look at each other wondering if our taste buds were off.  Our overarching feeling of each dish was that they were boring and uninspiring. Even the signature dishes felt soulless and underdeveloped. The Five Ages of Parmigiano Reggiano was delicate in its presentation but rich and overwhelming (also incorrectly paired with a very acidic citrus wine) and The Crunchy Part of the Lasagna, which is often spoken of as the highlight dish of Massimo's career, did taste like delicious lasagna, but left us asking, why not just make the best darn lasagna we’ve ever had? It was deconstructed, leaving you with a bite of bolognaise and bechamel with a crunchy cracker (reminiscent of those asian-style crispy wafers), and no noodles. This was served with a juniper-infused beer from Bologna, not wine. We were not served one of Massamio's favorites, Tortellini Marching into Broth (sad).

"The Crunchy Part of the Lasagna"

The proverbial “Coup de Grace” came at what was supposed to be the crescendo of the meal, a dish titled Spin-painted Veal, Not Flame Grilled. An absolutely gorgeous dish was laid in front of us with multi-colored purees splashed across the plate and a cut of meat prominently displayed in the center. The server introduced the dish by saying, “The meat here is not veal, it is beef meant to taste like veal. Further, it is not grilled, it is meant to look like it is grilled because the best part of grilled meat is the appearance of the char.” Wait, excuse me, did you just tell somebody who works in an open-fire steakhouse that the purpose and best part of grilling meat is the look? I was flabbergasted.  Apparently the beef-not-veal was boiled in a vacuum pack and then crusted with herbs to “look” like it was grilled. Unfortunately this dish did not taste like grilled veal, it was dry and tough, lacking in flavor and dripping with pretension.  

The look of the grill on "Spin-painted Veal, Not Flame Grilled"

It was at this point in the meal, that we had some questions for a Manager. We asked our server if Pepe was available. He told us that Pepe had left for the evening. We then asked if Massimo was in the kitchen. He told us that Massimo was not there, sometimes he stops in, but he has other projects he is working on. Aha.

Herein lies the most fundamental question of the meal, where is Massimo? I understand that a Chef needs to be creative and innovative, to challenge themselves to create new and exciting dishes within the realm of their specialty.  I believe this is the reason Massimo created Osteria Francescana in the first place, to “deconstruct” the flavors of Modena and the Italian Kitchen and present them in new and exciting ways and he did so with much heartache and challenge, but he succeeded. Now it would appear as though he has left Osteria Francescana in the hands of his staff and is pursuing other ventures and the restaurant is suffering.  By nature, Massimo is dynamic, exciting and charismatic, these were the qualities I was looking for in his dishes.  However in the hands of his team, who are following his recipes, the dishes come off lethargic, dull and totally lacking in heart and soul. Further, for such a dynamic personality, the “feel” of the restaurant was stale and unwelcoming. Who would want to dine in such an atmosphere? Not to mention the service, unengaging, unfriendly, and unknowledgeable.

This experience also conjured up an interesting dilemma in expectation. My expectations were very high and rightfully so, considering that I was going to have a meal by Massimo Bottura at the Osteria Francescana, a Michelin 3-Star and World Number 2 Restaurant. However, as we left the restaurant I felt dejected, lied to, and disappointed. As a restaurateur and hospitality professional, I greatly look forward to exploring the world of food and wine. I have my issues with Yelp and TripAdvisor (to be discussed in later posts), but in the restaurant industry, the Michelin guide is held in high esteem as the ultimate test.  One star is nearly impossible and is given only to fantastic restaurants.  Two stars is exceptional, but three stars!?!? That’s one of the highest achievements possible.  I have a serious question for the Michelin people and have drafted a review similar to this one to send to them.  It begs the question, do you believe the hype?  In this case, I was duped. I believed in the system and I believed in Massimo and I was whole heartedly let down by the experience.

The meal ended much as you would expect, more unexplained dishes displayed in unique ways that didn’t taste very good and were poorly paired with wine. Around dish ten or eleven, we were served a Foie Gras Ice Cream Bar that was infused with balsamic glaze. First of all Foie Gras is one of the softest, most delicate and delicious tastes.  Why would you add a strong and powerful balsamic glaze to it?  Second of all, it was paired with a Barolo Chinata, an extremely powerful red wine with notes of rhubarb and dried tree bark. This was a disaster and totally inedible, and I looked over at my sister who said in ernest, “I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

By the time the bill came, we were so dejected that it only seemed to add insult to injury that the total was 700€ (coffee and water were NOT included in the 660 prix-fix food and wine price). If I had been a different type of person, I probably would have walked out mid-mess, but that’s not who I am. I kept hoping it would get better and wondered if I could I learn from the experience. And finally, as we approached the locked door to exit, our server thanked us and handed us our parting gift… a bag of breadcrumbs.  One thing's for sure, I won’t be leaving a trail of those to follow back to Osteria Francescana.

Never ones to let a bad meal get us down, we kept smiling.

Modena, Italy

Modena is an absolutely charming little town, perfectly situated at the crossroads of Italy.  To the south is Tuscany, providing olive oil, delectable cured meats, and Chianti Classico.  To the north is Piedmont and the Veneto, offering Prosecco and some of the most complex and delicious wines ever created (Barolo and Barbaresco) and truffles.  And for it’s own part, Modena is where the greatest balsamic vinegar is made, as well as prosciutto, and of course, Parmigiano Reggiano. Therefore, Modena is an amazing amalgamation of food and wine, drawing from all the best parts of Italy, this is the place to visit if you are a foodie.

Modena was also a bit of a mystery to me.  Sitting at a little table at a coffee “bar” in the main intersection, you notice a constant stream of bicycles (old funky bicycles) rolling by on the cobblestone streets. While I was sure this was a tourist destination, the bicycles led me to believe that this is also a vibrant local community (I also noticed numerous people stop and greet each other at the coffee shop I was sitting at). For the tourists (all Italians), stores like Chanel, Burberry, and H&M have opened up storefronts and people endlessly moved in and out of stores along a sidewalk beautifully displayed with vaulted archways. Modena felt like a Hollywood set except that it was real.  Modena, it turns out, is also the headquarters of Ferrari, Maserati, and Lamborghini, perfect for the supercar aficionado. We realized that this town has much more happening than we previously thought. I highly recommend a visit if you are in Italy.