Yeah, of course NYC is always fun, but sure isn't relaxing. A few days in Ithaca felt more like the vacation we wanted. A few images from around the Finger Lakes region, where hopefully the quality of the cooking will someday soon better honor and be on par with that of the locally cultivated ingredients.
Beautiful spring flowers at the Ithaca Farmers Market. Lilacs are just starting to bloom; in a week or so they'll be in full force like the blazing yellow forsythia is.
Talk about determined bakers. They hitch and TOW their wood-burning oven to make on-site pizzas and other breads. The croissants were dense and forgettable, but the berry brioche was delicious (not baked in the featured device, obviously).
Beautiful aggressively local mushrooms.
The Piggery, terrific Trumansburg folks who've made a successful go of it pig farming and making amazing fresh sausages, bacon, terrines, and other porky goodies. Oh man, did we LOVE the spicy Italian combined with local kale raab from Blue Heron Farm with pasta that night.
Many visits to Gimme! Coffee, State Street, Farmers Market, and Cayuga Street locations, but mostly the recently remodeled Cayuga (pictured). Henry could not be more proud of his hometown. Not that Moosewood isn't a pride-worthy community asset...
I spent most of our day wine tasting as designated driver, yet managed to sneak in some semi-responsible sips. Our extremely carefully planned itinerary (there are MANY bad wineries to avoid) was mostly centered around Keuka Lake and Seneca, with stops and buying sprees at Ravines and Dr. Frank, of course. We bought some late harvest dessert and ice wines at Hunt Country, and squeezed in a last tasting at Hermann J. Wiemer (above). It was the stinkiest, most sulfur-smelling spot, but not without other distinct advantages: the tasting room is in the actual belly of the winemaking beast, and the very tasteful, simply appointed wine shop sells only wine. No "Got Wine?" shirts or other painfully tacky wine paraphernalia.
I'll be able to enjoy the Reisling bounty in a year or so, but in the meantime, I got something out of the day: antiquing in Hammondsport. All for the better. I needed to reunite with my inner rummager rather than drinker anyway.