The other day I happened upon this cute green Camionette parked outside the Ralph Lauren Mansion on Madison Avenue. Yes, Ralph is selling coffee now. He even has a café in his new Fifth Avenue Polo flagship. The beans are roasted by La Colombe. It’s really great coffee–may even give Starbucks a jolt.
My friend Bob Morris emailed from Girona, Spain the other day to say he was looking for restaurant recs in the area (he had just consumed a 20-course meal at the Celler Can Roca–aka, the best restaurant in the world). How do you top that? Easy. I told him about Compartir in Cadaqués, owned by three chefs who all worked in Ferran Adrià’s kitchen at El Bulli. Two summers ago my husband and I traveled to Cadaqués for a story I was writing on the Costa Brava region. We fell in love with the delicious food at this unpretentious spot (the beet salad pictured above is out of this world). Cadaqués, as you may know, is where Salvador Dalì lived for many years. It’s a remote, white-washed Mediterranean fishing town, surrounded by mountains and stretching right down to the turquoise sea. I could go back there in a heartbeat. Read more here: Travel+Leisure.
I’m on a plane to Los Angeles as I write this, wishing I were headed to my favorite Malibu boot camp, The Ranch at Live Oak. If you haven’t heard of the place, it’s a luxurious boot camp where they kick your butt for a week with 12-mile hikes every morning followed by yoga, TRX, circuit training, and other torturous workouts. Nestled in the Santa Monica Mountains, the setting is beautiful and the vegan food is fabulous. In March, Ranch owners Sue and Alex Glasscock will finally publish a cookbook (the kale salad recipe, below, is my favorite). I’ve already pre-ordered it.
The Ranch Kale Caesar Salad
1 cup raw cashews
1 clove garlic
1/4 tsp. salt
Juice of 1 lemon
1 big bunch kale, stemmed, torn, and “scrunched” to soften
1 red onion, shaved thinly
Put first four ingredients in a small food processor and blend until smooth, adding water as necessary to get a creamy dressing consistency.
Toss the kale with the dressing and to with shaved red onion.
I remember the day Marie-Anne showed up in my office at Vogue in the spring of 1996 with an armful of pastel-colored dresses cut in sari fabrics. A bunch of young editors gathered around her and scooped up the simple shifts. They came in a dazzling array of colors and were so easy to wear, like a modern Lily Pulitzer. But the real attraction was Marie-Anne herself—she had such unique personal style. She was wearing one of her dresses in a beautiful shade of deep pink with a Pucci scarf tied like a kerchief. She called her line Tocca—which means touch in Italian.