BABBO

I know I promised to limit myself to a maximum of five library books. But today I found myself standing in the library (again) with about ten books to donate (after the ten or so I donated yesterday.) I am proud to announce that my MIA poetry books "Late Wife" and "Southern Selves" resurfaced after a good search and after a bit of my Irish luck drew them out of their excellent hiding places. Now don't get me wrong, I love the public library and my husband and debit card breathe a sigh of relief every time I forgo my pilgrimage to Barnes & Noble or Borders.

Today, I found books on appetizers, a collection of recipes for the modern "cook", a lovely book on the recipes of Monet (I can't wait to dive head first into that one) and a book on Italian cookery called BABBO by executive chef Mario Batali owner of a restaurant that shares the same name. You may recall Mario from the Food Network and his show "Molto Mario."

Interestingly enough, along with exquisite food photography, Mario fills the book with recipes on antipasti, pasta (I adore the name Pumpkin lune with butter and sage, for full moon shaped pasta), Mare (from the sea), as well as recipes for duck, veal, pork and venison. Mario caps these with delicious recipes for cake, compote, ice cream, fruit, and finishes with the cookie platter served with affogato- a tiny cup of chilled espresso with a scoop of gelato and whipped cream.

I imagine osso bucco with toasted pine nut gremolata or a perfectly grilled guinea hen with pomegranate vinaigrette followed by a dessert of olive oil and rosemary cake. But tonight I cater bacon wrapped scallops, thai steak skewers, mixed field greens with hearts of palm, lemon chicken and orzo. I will cook nothing especially Italian and my customer will provide her own dessert. It would be lovely to plate a cool meyer lemon semifreddo with huckleberry sauce but tonight I will do as I must. As I work beside my excellent staff, I will dream of home and a hot cup of camomile tea while sitting on my vintage black and brown sofa with my feet propped up studying Monet.