Are you still stuck at home… not traveling? To help ease the pain, we present a different kind of travel writing — fictional accounts of great travels with great — and real — food experiences. The author — Zoe Messinger — has done everything from running food trucks in Milan and Amsterdam, to cooking in two award winning restaurants in Los Angeles, and performing stand-up comedy.  And, like us, she still believes there’s magic around a dining table, even if you can’t get there right now. Here with the sixth in a series of her flash fiction vignettes about some of the best off the beaten path restaurants from around the world — each a love affair with food, a journey of finding yourself through what you eat, and perhaps the best part — each paired with a recipe inspired by the meal.  While you’re stuck at home, you can now escape to Paris, The Amalfi Coast, Hong Kong, Spain, Sweden, and Los Angeles. And, in case you’re wondering, Zoe is currently stuck in Pennsylvania, eating her way through the fridge. Zoe’s sixth “report”: Los Angeles.

Baaa-baresco

I walked into the hearth cozy center of the Angelino bistro. Little top hats sat on everyone’s table in clustered capelletti. I was wearing my bandana and blazer—a classy antagonist to the traditional garb. I was on fire.

“Drink?” she slurred, like a fox.

“Wine,” I said. “We’re celebrating!” And what are we celebrating? We’re celebrating the fact that I turned off my mind, pulled it out of my head, and threw it away. A cynical champagne cork flew through the air from the other side.

“Hurry along, foxy,” I said, trying to grab her brush before it wagged away. No, I didn’t say that. I didn’t do that. I couldn’t move. I was too mesmerized by the little hats, by the richness hanging above me in plain view, in pappardelle dangling from the ceiling. I was so close to all of it.

The bread came—cracker, olive, and multigrain. We were cosmopolitan. I was the only whitey besides ciabatta, but she was Italian, so she had some flare.

Bellissima, bellissima! The somm sauntered over, sheepishly, as a sheep should.

“How can I help you tonight?” he asked.

All I heard was baaa, baaa-baresco. So I whispered it back into his ear, “Baaa-baresco,” just like I heard it. He trotted away, adjusting his bow tie.

I sat back, as the fire burned into the night, as the warm, syrupy center poured down, and enveloped me, as the wine decanted. Sips later, my little hats came floating down onto the center of the table, like pillows, like little dreams. I took a bite and the dancing stopped, the music stopped, the grazing stopped—everyone was suspended in the air—the horses, the carriages, the knights, the ballerinas, the bulls, and me—floating—like a contemporary painting at The Met. I parted my lips and opened wide. The delicate mascarpone filling danced through my mouth and down my throat, pirouetting every swirl, her white sheer scarf suspended like the sky, the last light of the last day. She held me hostage, a prisoner to her divinity, the fox and the sheep, the bread basket—my mind. The mind I left behind.

Open daily for dinner, closed Monday and Tuesday.

An iconic restaurant

Barbaresco Boozed Cherries with Mascarpone Clouds

Serves 2

INGREDIENTS

RECIPE

Put the sugar, cherries, wine, orange rind, and vinegar in a wide saucepan (I used a heavy-bottomed large stainless-steel). Bring up to a boil on medium-high heat, stir to make sure the sugar dissolves in and doesn’t burn. Once boiling, reduce heat to a low boil and cook for 10 minutes, stirring frequently.

While the cherries are cooking, mix the tapioca starch with a touch of water until fully dissolved. Add a splash of wine, stir to make uniform. Set aside your slurry. You may not want/need to use this.

When cherries are ready check the consistency. If you want it a bit thicker mix in the slurry and bring to a boil for about a minute.

Turn heat off, add the splash of Kirsch and delicately stir.

Take the mascarpone out of refrigerator and soften enough to whip. Place in a stainless bowl and stir to make it more liquid. Separately in a stainless bowl, whisk the heavy cream until it just begins to thicken. Slowly add the lightly thickened cream to the mascarpone along with the honey and sea salt. Hand whisk to light pillows.

Build your dish however you like. I like layering it like a parfait, using a sundae dish: cream on the bottom, cherries, a generously spooned cream on top. For crunch, layer in amaretto cookies or toasted almonds. Garnish with whatever catches your fancy—an herb, flower, pink peppercorns.

Serve hot or cold.