There are several collectible wines on Lot18 this week, among them a rare red Burgundy and a small-production Napa Merlot. Gourmet curator Katy Andersen and I pulled together this simplified Beef Wellington recipe that’s a great match for either wine, and won’t do additional damage to the bank balance.

OK, it’s not exactly health food, but then again, who wants carrots and hummus when opening a rare wine in its prime? Just be sure to hit the gym the next day … and maybe the day after that, too.

Simplified Beef Wellington
Prep time: About an hour
Servings: 4
Ingredients:
• Four beef tips (I used beef from Robinson’s Prime Reserve, but your local butcher’s or grocery store’s beef will work just fine)
• Two packages of frozen puff pastry, thawed
• Medallion of duck foie gras with black truffles (sounds fancy, but only costs about $13)
• Sliced white button mushrooms
• Approx. 2 Tbsp. butter
• Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:
1. Set the oven to 350 degrees.

2. Melt half the butter in a cast-iron skillet over medium heat. When the butter stops bubbling, add about 25 mushroom slices and brown them on each side, about two minutes per side. Work in batches and add butter as needed. Set aside the mushrooms on a paper towel.

3. Season the beef tips with salt and pepper. A beef tip is the thin, triangle-shaped end of the tenderloin (the thicker, middle part is the filet mignon). If your tips are thick, sear them quickly on all sides in the pan you just used to brown the mushrooms. If they’re thin, turn off the burner and set the pan aside. Just work with the raw meat.

4. Spread a thin layer of the foie gras on top of each beef tip.

5. Stack about 6-8 mushroom slices on top of each beef tip. The foie gras should hold the mushrooms in place.

6. Lay out the puff pastry on a cookie sheet. Cut large circles in the pastry, using a salad plate or small dish as your guide – just place the dish face down on the pastry and run a sharp knife along the edges.

7. Place a beef tip in the center of each circle. Carefully fold the dough over the meat and seal it shut, so each Wellington is a half-moon shape. Cut a few slits in the top of each Wellington so steam can escape.

8. Place the Wellingtons in the oven. Check them every 10 minutes, and bake for no longer than 25 minutes. The trick is to keep the beef medium rare and get the puff pastry golden brown. For medium-rare Wellingtons, try baking for 20 minutes, then move the tray under the broiler for two or three minutes. Slice in half, right down the middle, and serve.

For a good, complementary side dish, try roasting new potatoes with salt, pepper and rosemary in the same pan in which you browned the mushrooms (and, possibly, seared the beef). You can just add the pan into the oven with the Wellingtons, on a different rack. Let them roast for at least 30 minutes.

Have another easy recipe to that you like to serve alongside your special wines? Share it below.

A sunny day at the Union Square Greenmarket.

“Fava blossoms.”

At first, I thought I’d misheard him. So I asked Tim Stark, of Eckerton Hill Farm, to clarify. “You mean fava beans, right?”

I was wrong. Tim really meant fava blossoms. We were standing at his stall at the Union Square Greenmarket, talking about the market’s evolution since he’d started coming years ago.

Mike Anthony, newly-crowned Best Chef of NYC by the James Beard Foundation, had contacted Tim the day before with this surprise order.

Spring means fresh, juicy strawberries.

When the chef of a Michelin-starred restaurant in New York City calls up an organic farmer out in rural Pennsylvania for all the fava stalks — with blossoms attached — he can haul to New York on a Saturday morning at 4 am, you know the local food system is flourishing.

Buying local means buying seasonal - a diet by no means boring.

I was at the market last weekend with a mission.

I set out with a fork, a bottle of water, and a fistful of dollars to eat my way through some of New York City’s open-air food and farmers’ markets.

Pushing aside a mild hangover, I started with Union Square’s Greenmarket, which runs from 8 am to 6 pm on Saturdays (as well as on Monday, Wednesday and Friday). Tourists, chefs and home cooks alike mill about, intent on photographing or buying (rarely both) as many ripe red strawberries, local cheeses, freshly-caught fish and (dare I say the word for fear of starting a stampede) ramps as they can carry home.

Tim's French Breakfast Radishes might be the most beautiful spring vegetable.

With Tim’s tasty French Breakfast radishes to keep me company, I sped over the Brooklyn Bridge to the Williamsburg waterfront at North 6^th Street where Smorgasburg holds court from 11 am to 6 pm each Saturday. Its hours are a giveaway: come here for lunch, or even an early dinner.

With Manhattan in the backdrop, Smorgasburg enjoys its waterfront views and full sun.

If Kickstarter and Whole Foods had a love child, it might be Smorgasburg. The market is an impressive sandbox for serious food artisans as they grow up: Where cold brew coffee, beef jerky, raw chocolate and kale chips mingle with freshly-shucked oysters, wood-fired pizza and smoked brisket sandwiches.

Brooklyn's Anarchy in a Jar uses their jam to make pop tarts, a flaky, buttery pastry full of gorgeous fruit.

I was instantly overwhelmed. Fish taco or schnitzel? Ice cream cone or donut? Pizza or grilled cheese? Life is hard when you have food-ADD.

Although it was 12 noon, I decided to start with breakfast. Which meant, locally-made Pop Tarts.

A homemade pop tart is a treat. Spoon fruit-laden jam onto buttery puff pastry. Bake. Ice. Eat. The result bears little resemblance to the Kellogg’s packaged standards, and that’s a good thing.

With a hint of chicory, Grady's Cold Brew is a refreshing sip of New Orleans-style iced coffee.

After breakfast came lunch, and we wasted no time.

I can’t resist a good wood-fired pizza, so I was drawn to the booth with the portable brick oven. In all of six minutes, the following happened:

Pizza Moto makes a serious pizza - seriously good.

Ordered a margherita pizza. Dough stretched. Pizza flew into oven. Pizza flew out of oven. EVOO drizzled over piping hot pizza. Pepperoncino dusted over it, too. Lunch is served.

Day two, I woke up hungover. Again. But this time, it was food-induced.

New Amsterdam Market offers an array of cooking - and dining - options.

Around noon, I headed down to another corner of town to the New Amsterdam Market, held in front of the former Fulton Street Fish Market on South Street at Peck Slip from 11 am to 4 pm on Sundays. The overpass provides a natural cover – protecting vendors and customers alike from rain and sunshine.

While I go to the Greenmarket to pick up ingredients amongst all walks of cooks and Smorgasburg to eat amongst foodies, families, strollers and even dogs, New Amsterdam falls somewhere in between. There’s produce as well as cured meat, fresh fish, jams and freshly-baked bread. Moreover, there’s a sense of building community, with composting and bicycle programs.

Hot Bread Kitchen offers delicious M'Smen among other freshly-baked ethnic breads.

Feeling less indulgent after yesterday’s full plate, I skipped breakfast and went straight for lunch.

I can never resist a good lobster roll (yes, there are many foods I can’t resist) so of course I ordered one. In less than five minutes, a buttery crustacean-filled sandwich arrived with claw meat piled high.

The beauty of New Amsterdam Market is that one can eat lunch and forage for dinner all in the same place.

Here's 'fast food' I enjoy: Luke's Lobster toasts a bun and packs a lobster roll in under 5 minutes.

After lunch, I picked up enough produce and meat to make Julia Child proud. After all, I was planning to make beef bourguignon for supper. And with breads made from ale, Chardonnay and all sorts of whole grains, as well as Mexican chocolate and freshly-baked pies, I probably could have picked up enough food for the rest of the week. That is, if I could carry all the bags.

And if I’d wanted to pair the stew with American hard cider, I would have been able to purchase it there, too.

My recommendation, wicked hangover or dire hunger or neither or both? Don’t miss any of these markets if you’re in New York.

If not? Find your local farmers’ market. The trip is worth getting out of bed on a weekend morning to eat a local meal or buy some locally-produced food. The time is ripe.

Appleton Estate, located in the heart of Jamaica

Getting to know your rum goes way beyond sipping Piña Coladas and Mojitos at a fancy resort – especially when you have the chance to spend a few hours with Joy Spence, the Master Blender at Appleton Estate in Jamaica. Joy is a rum industry legend and has spent the last 31 years perfecting the leading rum brand in Jamaica.

Word of warning: If you’re coming from Montego Bay you can expect a slow and winding two-hour drive on small roads that are not meant for much traffic. As we traveled deep into the mountains we passed dozens of small villages, abandoned buildings and seemingly homeless dogs. Our driver told us that 75 percent of Jamaicans live like this – an important reminder of what island life is really like.

The steamy, hot air hit us as soon as we opened the door. This is afterall a microclimate ideal for growing sugarcane, and it’s very different from the coastal climate. Our rum experience started immediately as we chugged down the best rum punch I’ve ever had. It was gingery, a little sweet and golden brown. I couldn’t get anyone to reveal the recipe but I’m pretty sure it involved some molasses.

Not everyone gets to the royal treatment at Appleton and they do have normal tours going through, but we were lucky that Joy was available that day to take us behind the scenes. She ushered us into a barn to go through an in-depth presentation on the history of rum in Jamaica and what goes on at Appleton to make their rum unique. Well practiced, she chuckled as she rattled off statistics and all the historical details.

Rum and sugar production has been an important industry in Jamaica since 1749, when Appleton was founded. Today the country produces and exports 4.6 million gallons of rum each year between the six distilleries that operate there. Appleton is the largest producer with 60 percent of the Jamaican rum market.

According to Joy, the “world’s most versatile spirit” is perfect for cocktails, and also can be sipped like a fine single malts. As she went through examples of uses for vodka and Scotch and what they are best for, I realized it made sense. There isn’t another spirit that is perfect for mixing, and sipping straight – hell, even cooking. The challenge that Appleton has is that most people are not aware rums can fall into the “premium” category. It gets even more fascinating when you realize the advantages of the tropical aging process. Because of the hotter climate, the kind of maturation that would take 63 years in Scotland takes just 21 years in Jamaica. The 21-year old blend we tasted was deep amber in color, smoky with hints of orange, vanilla and oak, nice and complex – just like a fine single malt.

It all clicked for me when she explained that just like wine, terroir is incredibly important in rum. “There are few rums in the world can claim terroir,” she said. The unique combination of limestone soils, a unique microclimate, the long deep “cockpit” valley, and plenty of hot sunny days with daily afternoon showers is perfect for sugar cane. And, it grows like a weed here.

Joy gives us a taste of molasses

Next it was time to venture beyond the security gates and into the distillery to see the real-world application of what we’d just learned. What impressed me was the amount of work that goes into each part of the process, from growing sugar cane to distillation, blending and aging. It is a business that Appleton – and for that matter, the country of Jamaica – takes very seriously.

As we ventured beyond the security gates we were ushered into the distillery, which was packed with about a dozen pot stills. I stopped to sneak a photo, and Joy explained that using a combination of both pot and column stills allows them to maximize flavors and create different styles. After distillation the rum is pumped into tankers and transported to warehouses in Kingston where it is aged, blended and bottled.

They have a few barrels at the Estate “for historical purposes.” Even though aging doesn’t happen here, with all the tours going through, they still want to educate visitors on the aging process that produces the signature Appleton rum characteristics.

“It is pointless aging your rum in crap,” she said. “Appleton purchases number one select barrels used by Jack Daniels. Bourbon actually seasons the barrels for us.”

Fascinating facts about Jamaican rum and Appleton Estate:

• Appleton Estate is the oldest rum distillery in Jamaica and started producing rum in 1749
• One year aging in Jamaica will produce the same flavor intensity as three years aging in Scotland
• Age statements for whisky and Appleton Rum alike mean that the youngest part of the blend is that age – but with inconsistent international laws, this isn’t necessarily true for all rums
• Jamaica law does not allow any additives, unless the rum is classified as “flavored rum.” Many other countries are able to add 2.5 percent of additives into the blend, such as caramel color and vanilla flavoring
• “Rum” on a label means the spirit must be made from fermented products of sugar cane
• Jamaica is now pursuing a geographical indicator to protect the quality standards and usage of the country name in rum branding
• Most other rum manufacturers buy molasses. Appleton is a single estate so they control everything from sugar cane production to the bottling process
• There are six distillers in Jamaica that produce 4.6 million gallons of rum
• Wray & Nephew (Appleton & New Yarmouth) produce 60 percent of Jamaica’s rum
• It takes 10 tons of sugar cane to produce 30 cases of rum
• Appleton uses both pot and column stills and all of its rum is a blend of both types
• Appleton ages rum in American oak barrels (ex-Jack Daniels)
• Appleton has 240,000 barrels aging in warehouses around Kingston

The Appleton sugar cane fields

The sugar cane at sunset

Got questions about visiting Appleton Estate? Tweet @mindyjoyce

My introduction to Sancerre parallels my viewing of Whit Stillman films. I had my first Sancerre right about the time I discovered “Metropolitan.” The film follows tuxedoed and ball gowned members of the Sally Fowler Rat Pack (SFRP), a group of recent college grads whose conversations simultaneously channeled W. Somerset Maugham and Kevin Smith. I imagined that the SFRP, however acutely awkward, already knew how to order wine by appellation, something I learned with Sancerre.

From Sancerre, I quickly jumped to Pouilly-Fumé. At the video store, I picked up Barcelona and The Last Days of Disco. As I teased out each Sauvignon Blanc’s characteristics in reference to their soils and sun exposures, I mentally recorded this gem from Barcelona: “You see, that’s one of the great things about getting involved with someone from another country …  when we act in ways which might objectively seem … incredibly annoying, they don’t get upset at all. They don’t take it personally. They just assume it’s some national characteristic.”

So it is with the whites of the Loire – to know each appellation is to accept certain inevitabilities. Seeing Sancerre blanc on French bistro menus anywhere made me enjoy it a little less each time; I imagined its tremendous popularity had to have some effect on overall quality. I had not drunk a memorable Sancerre in years until recently when I tried the 2010 Domaine M. Girard Sancerre Blanc Cuvée Silex. With one sip of the Silex, my senses were awakened. Its vivid acidity and notes of clover, green apple and honeydew on the cusp of ripeness kept me coming back to the glass, thirsty for more of the kind of wine that aided me so much in my early learning of French wine. Little wonder that now is the time that Stillman has returned with “Damsels in Distress,” his first film in 12 years.

To honor the return of Sancerre and Stillman films in my life, I decided to make octopus, an ingredient that I’ve been experimenting with for a few years.

Roasted Octopus with Spicy Miso Glaze

It’s easy enough to make it – just boil it low and slow in a pot of water with a generous pinch of salt and some sort of alcohol until its desired tenderness is reached, then cut it, drizzle it with good olive oil and sprinkle it with paprika, sea salt and freshly chopped herbs. But I’ve yet to achieve the transcendental heights I tasted in an octopus dish I ordered at Lawrence’s Hotel in Sintra, Portugal. (I emailed the hotel for their recipe, but have not received a response.) Having cooked octopi at least 10 times, I know now that the octopi in the Mediterranean must be significantly larger than the ones we get here as they shrink two- to threefold in the cooking process. If you get a big fat piece of takoat a sushi place, I’d say the original cephalopod was over 10 pounds prior to cooking. Thus far, I’ve only found octopi ranging from 2-4 pounds, which are still plenty delicious even without the satisfaction of sinking your teeth into a thick tender tentacle.

The wine’s star shone so bright that I felt it would go best with the pure savory notes of soy sauce and miso – I was interested in how the palate-coating umami notes of the soy-based condiments would interact with the wine’s palate-cleansing vibrancy.

Pan-fried Onigiri

I decided to make Spicy Miso Glazed Octopus and Pan-fried Onigiri brushed with Tamari. My fiancé chipped in with a Watercress Salad with Asian Pear and Pickled Ginger.

We bought a two-pound frozen octopus from New Star Fish Market in Essex Street Market. I have yet to find fresh octopus but read in The Young Man and the Sea by Esca’s David Pasternak that freezing it beforehand helps to tenderize. Alternatively, you can use the pre-freezer method of beating a fresh octopus against the rocks of the Aegean coast.

We wandered by Saxelby Cheesemongers and ran into a smiley Ann who happily gave us a very ripe piece of Cremont, a Vermont Butter and Cheese company cheese that was too gooey to sell, but right in its sweet spot for enjoying with Sancerre. We were thankful to have some amazing cheese to slather on toast points as the octopus cooked.

My hunch that the miso would stop the wine in its tracks was correct. The Sancerre lingered on my palate, seemingly separating and enhancing each ingredient in the glaze. With parallel flavors such as the Asian pear in the salad, the wine also did well to counteract the sharpness of the ginger and bitter watercress.

I have a feeling that I’ll be uncorking this wine a lot over the summer. Perhaps I’ll take a bottle on a jaunt to the campus on Staten Island where “Damsels in Distress” was filmed, and hopefully find a BYOB Sri Lankan restaurant while I’m there.

Spicy Miso Glazed Octopus

Ingredients

1 Tbsp. salt
3 Tbsp. cooking sake
1 Tbsp. soy sauce
Water to cover up to one inch below top of octopus
1 Tbsp. mirin

Concocting the spicy miso glaze

1 clove garlic, sliced
2 lb. octopus

Spicy Miso Glaze

3 Tbsp. white miso
1 tsp. sesame oil
1 Tbsp.  Sriracha
1 tsp. mirin
1.5 Tbsp. honey
1 tsp. rice vinegar

Give the octopus a quick rinse in cold water, which you’ll likely need to do anyway to release a fully frozen one from its plastic bag. Once liberated, put it in a pot of cold water with the sake, salt, soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, mirin and garlic in it. The water should come up to just an inch below the top of your cube of frozen octopus.

Bring the water to a boil before reducing the heat to a low simmer. Skim the foam off the top about 10-15 minutes into the cooking process or when you notice that a layer has formed.

Skim the foam off when it arises, about 20 minutes into the boil

After skimming off the foam, let the octopus cook until it is completely unfrozen and properly resembling a creature of the deep. This will take an additional 20-30 minutes. At this point, take the octopus out and cut it in half. I’ve found that the head and “shoulders” of the octopus takes longer to cook than the tentacles; by cutting it in half, more surface area is exposed to the simmering water and both halves should easily submerge in the pot.

Continue to cook at a low simmer for another 20-30 minutes. During this time, you can mix together the spicy miso glaze. I used the Shark brand of Sriracha, versus the ubiquitous rooster, finding it more to my taste. It’s vinegary with a touch of sweetness in addition to spiciness. Adjust the measurements above to your taste.

At the end of the second 20-30 minutes of boiling, test for tenderness by poking the head and shoulder with the point of sharp knife. The knife should go in but the flesh will still have a good amount of give; think of it as the same amount of resistance you’d feel in your finger if you poked it into a temperpedic pillow.

The octopus halfway through cooking

Let the octopus cool for a few minutes on a cutting board after removing it from the pot. Cut it into pieces and put it in a roasting dish with the miso glaze. The above amount yielded a few tablespoons more than I thought it needed.

Put the pan on a rack one slot down from the top position and broil the octopus on high for 3-5 minutes, stirring halfway through to ensure even caramelization.

Serves 3 normal people, or 2 octophiles.

With open bars and chef stations across the two floors of the gala, one thing was clear: people were having fun.

The evening began with red carpet arrivals, despite a light drizzle and sub-optimal temperatures. The awards ceremony began at 6pm on a busy stage in Avery Fisher Hall. By 9 pm, the silver medals hung around well-deserved necks and we headed for some nibbles and a sip of Perrier-Jouet Champagne.

If there were any trends at the dinner stations — of which were were at least 25 — it was this: crawfish, grilled cheese and chowders. A trend towards comfort food? Regional American cuisine? Creatures from the sea? Whatever drove chefs to invent the crawfish croque monsieur or the Dungeness crab Reuben sandwich, I don’t care. It was all delicious.

Paul Grieco, winner of "Outstanding Wine, Beer, or Spirits Professional" for his winelist guidance at Terroir, and his entourage, showed outstanding pride for the East Village outpost.

Wylie Dufresne, chef whose NYC restaurant WD-50 just announced a new menu.

Chef Michael Anthony won Best Chef: New York City, an award that must have made restaurant Danny Meyer and his celebration of American cooking and service, Gramercy Tavern, proud.

If you ever pass through Providence, RI, make a pilgrimmage to La Laiterie and Farmstead Restaurant. Chef and Nominee Matt Jennings has created a glorious outpost of artisan food there. And he posts some great tweets. @MatthewJennings

Despite the fact that Washington DC went home dry this year, minibar's Jose Andres (left) was in good spirits. Wolfgang Puck (right) was awarded this year's Lifetime Achievement Award.

Fronterra Grill's Rick Bayless drew camera attention on the red carpet.

Blue Hill's Dan Barber was there, to represent the bastion of spectacular local food in its nomination for Best Restaurant.

Food and Wine's editor, Dana Cowin, was inducted to "Who’s Who of Food & Beverage in America."

Two-time JBF Award-winner Ted Allen, host of the Food Network's Chopped, would rather take pictures than have his taken.

Daniel Boulud of NYC's Michelin-starred Daniel brought his daughter, Alix.

Momofuku Milk Bar's Christina Tosi was awarded Rising Star Chef of the Year, pictured here next to David Chang.

California Caviar in the press room was a welcome sight.

A bite of hamachi and sip of Perrier-Jouet champagne - let the gala begin!

Seasonal nbbles included a savory custard with chive blossoms and pickled fiddleheads.

"Save the foie" badges made chef sentiments clear: the upcoming California ban on the fattened goose liver is not okay.

Crayfish croque monsieur? Yes, please!

The second floor balcony offered a breath of fresh air and more bites to eat, with a dramatic background: the Met.

Every party needs a cake to finish out the night!

So, what the hell is body in wine? Is that what people are talking about when they say ‘this Cabernet has nice legs’? Nope. Those people are full of it. Luckily, you don’t have to be; here’s the low down on assessing a wine’s body, or lack thereof.

The concept of body basically refers to the weight and density of a wine. It’s simple: taste a wine and ask yourself on a scale of water to milkshake, where does this wine fall (i.e. how thin or thick is it)? A flippant and flowery Pinot Grigio or a lithe Pinot Noir might be light bodied, whereas an inky Aussie Shiraz or buttery California Chardonnay would be considered full bodied, and a juicy Malbec or Chenin Blanc would fall somewhere in between.

When beginning to learn about wine, something so subjective can seem difficult. Our tendency – no thanks to point scores like those given to multiple choice tests in grade school – is to make everything objective: right or wrong. This isn’t the case, so don’t over complicate things and judge everything on a relative scale. Does the wine feel heavy or light? If you can say, “I’ve had bigger,” well then, you need to learn how to describe your wine in a more socially appropriate way – but on the wine front, you’re probably drinking medium-bodied wine. Again, it’s all relative to your personal experience.

The term body can also be used to describe a wine’s structure. This is where the body analogy really begins to take shape. As you taste the wine, think of a human body type that best represents what you’re feeling. Would you equate the wine to being like that of a gymnast – light, quick and graceful? If so, you could probably describe the wine similarly. Or does this wine feel more like a vinous embodiment of spokesperson Jared Fogle, pre-Subway diet – huge and kind of mushy? This is probably a heavy wine, big in body with low acidity and tannins. If something feels big, but in no way soft – think Arnold Schwarzenegger in his body building days – you’d probably articulate this wine as a big wine with a firm and hefty tannic structure.

The key is to make it your own. The best description I’ve ever heard about body in wine is when someone equated the body of a Riesling to a fuselage: linear and smooth, expanding in the middle, but lots of acidity that pushes it forward like an airplane.

Bergamot, rose, jasmine, spice and peach with woody notes. While this might sound like a tasting note, it actually describes Guerlain’s classic fragrance, Mitsouko. And should you find yourself sniffing black cherry, raspberry, plum and vanilla, you’ve either poured a California Cab — or doused yourself in Britney Spears’ Midnight Fantasy.

Whether you’re talking about lipstick named Merlot Red or vinifera-infused spa treatments, wine has a special place in cosmetics. But a recent Refinery29 writeup of The Kelly & Jones Wine Note Collection left me inspired. While it might all be fermented grape juice, there have been plenty of times I’ve swirled a wine — particularly Riesling, Gewürztraminer, Moschofilero or Muscat — and found those aromatics as striking as just about any perfume. So I decided to take matters into my own hands, and with a few basic natural essences, I was able to whip up a solid perfume at home evocative of Riesling. The beeswax in the base offers the honeyed aromas common in these wines, while the orange blossom, bergamot, pepper and tuberose create a sillage that’s has a floral, bright, citrusy complexity.

1/2 tsp. Unbleached Beeswax, grated
4ml Golden Jojoba Oil
8 drops Neroli Essential Oil (orange blossom)
8 drops, Bergamot Essential Oil
1 drop, Black Pepper Essential Oil
1 drop, Tuberose Absolut

Blend formula into 4 ml* of jojoba oil. Grate 1/2 teaspoon of unbleached beeswax and melt over very low heat in a ceramic ramekin held over boiling water (bain-marie). Stir jojoba mixture and immediately remove from heat and pour into compact. Let perfume set for 15 minutes.

*If you’d like to use the solid perfume to fill a locket rather than a compact, halve the recipe.

You find the fragrance ingredients from White Lotus Aromatics, and jojoba oil and beeswax from Mountain Rose Herbs.

I would never tell him, but Jeffrey Steingarten’s book The Man Who Ate Everything is the work that inspired my obsession with food.

His essay on the wonders of salt sent me to investigate the salt harvests of Trapani in Sicily. His essays on Chinese cuisine sent me eating across Hong Kong, Beijing, even Shanghai. After he showed me his Berkel, the hand-cranked Italian meat slicer in his College and Law School alma mater’s Harvard crimson, I wanted my own – in a day and age where most girls covet Birkins, not Berkels.

But what do you ask the sharp-tongued man who regularly castigates world-renowned chefs on Iron Chef America? The man whom Anna Wintour invited to write Vogue’s food column years ago, who introduced a whole new style of food writing to the world? The man who has won countless James Beard Awards (the food world’s Oscar) and was given a Chevalier in the Order of Merit from the French government for his coverage of French cuisine? The Man Who Ate Everything, and who led me to do the same?

I decided to start simply.

How are you?

Everything is perfect.

Well, this is going well already!

I have no opinions, only truths.

So, Jeffrey, you probably eat out a lot, but I know you cook quite often, too. What’s your favorite meal to prepare at home?

Just eating at home, probably the old roast chicken. My favorite way is still on a 1950s rotisserie – the Roto-Broil 400. They were manufactured in Long Island City between 1955 and ’57. They’re still available on eBay, although you have to watch yourself. The reason it’s better than all other rotisseries is that this gets so hot, if you touch it after it’s been on for a half hour, you may die.

I did a test of all of those on the market, and there’s no doubt that the Roto-Broil is the absolute best. [The chicken] comes out so crispy and good.

And then, sandwiches. I bake a couple loaves of bread every week — not at the same time, only when it’s all used up. I love the bread that I bake, based on Jim Lahey’s no-knead bread, and I love sandwiches. One of my favorites might be grilled cheese. Last night my wife and I went to Eataly, and I must say I was yearning a sandwich with my bread.

What’s your go-to book about food or cooking (besides your own)?

A “go-to book,” I’ve never used that expression. Please remind me never to use that expression. How can there ever be one book? If you want to find out about a subject, you might start out with the Oxford English Dictionary. It’s the greatest dictionary ever written, one keystroke away.

The second thing you’d want to look at is Alan Davidson.

He pauses, distracted.

You might find that your assistant, as mine just did, has dropped food into the Alan Davidson. And then you’ll find your food all over the centerfold.

I can hear poor Elise, his assistant, plead the Fifth.

The only problem with that book is it’s much too anglo-tropic. There are a million Victorian desserts – they’re very complicated, and just like Italian cheeses: They give many different names to what an American would consider the exact same thing.

Several of the best cookbooks written in America in the past 20 years, as far as I know, have never been digitized. People don’t know about them. For example, Paula Wolfert. She wrote a cookbook after being in Morocco for two years. Or Fuchsia Dunlop, who went to Oxford and then SOAS, to learn Chinese and the Sichuan dialect. She wrote the only good Sichuan cookbook.

Is there any good Sichuan food in the city?

I once had a database done by the health department of the city of New York — which is the only department that has a list of every restaurant in the city — of how many restaurants had the word Sichuan/Szechuan in the title. It was about 200. True Sichuan? Not many. I want to go back to Chengdu.

What would be the biggest surprise I’d find in your pantry?

This is the year of the hundredth anniversary of the Oreo. It was the most popular cookie in the world and was made in New York. In the Chelsea Market, there’s a plaque for the American Baking Company, at some point they changed their name to National Biscuit Company [NaBisCo], who made the Oreo. So I asked my assistant to go to the supermarket to buy every type of Oreo they had. I’m afraid they now have eight different kinds.

I think they’ve gone downhill, but maybe my taste has gotten too snobbish. I’m not sure if any are any good except the Golden Oreo, which is totally addictive and you can’t stop eating it. Just once, buy a package of Golden Oreos and try eating them.

It must be difficult to enjoy everything you eat by this point in your writing career!

When you’re in this business, you spend a lot of time judging and distinguishing among different food. It’s hard to eat bad food. It’s even hard to eat mediocre food anymore.

For example, the only steak I’m really willing to eat is very very good, very expensive steak. Lobel’s is probably still the best butcher in the country – but there’s so much more variety in types of meat and sources, and different ways of raising it, that you can’t just go to one place. But if you want a really good dry-aged, the old-fashioned kind of well-marbled, corn-fed steak, Lobel’s is probably the best place to go.

So given the amount of time you spend in the kitchen, there must be at least one gadget you can’t live without.

I used to be a real gadgeteer. But now I don’t think there’s any gadget that I really love except precise thermometers and a mortar and pestle.

You realize I was the one to introduce the laser thermometer to the world of cooking. I needed to develop temperatures in my grill that would be hot enough for real pizza, 800 – 900 degrees. I asked the guy at Barbecues Galore how you would measure the temperature of a surface so I’d know how hot the pizza stone was. He didn’t know. I have a friend who’s an auto-mechanic and often has to know the temperature of sheet steel; he said there are infra-red thermometers in the shape of guns. So I went to a nearby industrial hardware store and bought one: You had to pay $500 if you wanted something that got up to 1,000 degrees. And then the company immediately went out and made a culinary one.

However, I would love to have a brick oven. Paul Bertolli has one, Alice Waters has one. I had dinner the other night with Will Rubel who has written about cooking with fire, and I still want one.

I welcome the opportunity – this will sound pretentious I know – to use one of my mortar and pestles. There’s nothing like a mortar and pestle. I learned how to use it from old ladies in Thailand. Real Thai food has to be made with a mortar and pestle. You can’t make Thai Curry without a mortar and pestle.

So yes, the Roto-broil, a mortar and pestle, and my collection of electronic thermometers. And also, of course course, my ice cream makers.

Do you want to know my favorite food? Fruit is my favorite food.

So where do you do most of your food shopping?

I shop everywhere, except for Citarella. Eataly has an amazing selection of Italian cheeses that you don’t find anywhere else. And then you have to go, for the best Parmigiano, to Di Palo. They probably have the best selection of Parmigiano in America. And you have to go to Chinatown – there are things there you can’t get outside of Chinatown.

The idea that you can go to one store and shop once a week, that’s for you suburbanites. I live a block away from the Greenmarket, and that’s the main place we shop.

Anything else?

Maybe you can explain to me why kale isn’t against the law. We don’t have to eat everything God created.

Have your own questions? You can tweet @jsteingarten

Back on April 24th, we asked Lot18 members on Facebook to share their best sangria recipes for a chance to win a $50 credit. We got some fantastic submissions from the traditional to unique. After rigorous testing in the office, we were able to pick two winners.

Red Wine Winner: Shelly Roy’s Fruity Sangria

1 part red table wine
1 part lemonade
1 part pomegranate soda
1 fresh lemon and lime, sliced
1 fresh orange, sliced
1 lb. fresh sliced strawberries
1 whole fresh pineapple, cubed

In a pitcher, add in all of the diced fruits along with equal amounts of red table wine, lemonade and pomegranate soda. Use equal parts of wine, soda and lemonade.

White Wine Winner: Douglas Burleson’s Spring Sangria

‎1 bottle cava [we also like it with Pinot Grigio]
2 oz. St. Germain
2 oz. white grape juice
3-4 strawberries, quartered
1/2 peach, sliced
a few sprigs of mint
ice

We combined all ingredients in a pitcher and sipped happily — the elderflower liqueur made it perfect for springtime.

You can enjoy these recipes from Cinco de Vino all the way through the warmer months. Congratulations to the winners, and enjoy!

Actually, it’s a really big deal. Getting an AVA approved is a thorough, expensive, political, exhaustive ordeal that can take years – only to crumble at any point in the process. When a sliver of a larger wine region earns the right to be emblazoned on a label, that truly is a sign that you’re drinking something special. If that weren’t the case, getting an AVA recognized would be far too much trouble for anyone to bother.

Just take a gander at the website of the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB), formerly and still somewhat commonly known as the ATF (new name, same touchy-feely agency). Start here, with the explanation that the “the main AVA petitioning elements include substantive documentation and evidence for the name usage, boundary line chosen, distinguishing features of the area, and a written boundary description with accompanying USGS maps.” If you dare, and you have a particular fondness for bureaucracy and legalese, click here to see just how many factors or features of the prospective AVA must be defined, explained and proven – whether through history, soil chemistry, climate or maybe even a distinctive, eye-pleasing feature. From there, the application is processed and petitioned for public comment once it’s published in the Federal Register.

This is where things can really go haywire – and get political – if all the details of the proposal aren’t wholly compelling. Check out this 2007 article by my former Wine Spectator colleague Dan Sogg, on competing AVA petitions to separate California’s Paso Robles wine region into East and West AVAs, or into 11 separate appellations within the region. Today, in 2012, Paso Robles remains undivided (and I suppose you’d have to ask a few local winemakers if they remain polarized on the different proposals). Either way, if no one’s come to agreement after five years, I’m guessing they won’t anytime soon.

And there’s not necessarily a victory dance among all those involved when an AVA does manage to get approved. Imagine you own a winery and vineyard, and the redrawing of the wine region’s borders affects your property and products. The situation might be one in which new restrictions force you to reach into your own pocket to re-label your wines just as they were about to go to market.

So, yes, the establishment of the Pine Mountain-Cloverdale Peak AVA is important. Just how special this place is, however, depends on your taste buds.