Last year, we officially became an online retailer and showcased an Eat Boutique gift box that many customers sent to friends, family and colleagues around the 2009 holiday season. (Here is last year’s gift box page that lists out the products we sold.) The gift box was filled with local and handmade food treats, all from the New England area. We were incredibly fortunate because our first ever retail effort sold out within two weeks, thanks to all of our readers for passing along the message and to all of our first ever customers.

As we plan our next gift box, we wanted to get your advice. We’re running a survey to learn more about your food gift box buying habits and gather your two cents on this year’s potential gift box. The survey is short and should only take about 10 minutes. And for every 100 people who fill in the survey, we’re choosing someone at random to receive a $20 Amazon gift card or $20 I-Tunes gift card – your choice! The more survey participants, the more chances that you could win a gift card, so please do forward this along to friends, families, strangers, everyone!

Thank you, in advance, for your participation. We couldn’t be successful without your amazing community spirit and support. Now… on to the survey!

Click here to take the survey!

People are often surprised when I tell them that I’m not from around here. I think many people assume I am from Maine, probably because I could wax poetic about the Pine Tree state for hours. I don’t mind if people think I’m from Maine, or the Boston area, because I have grown to love this section of the country so much that I often forget myself that I grew up (quite happily, I will add) in Pennsylvania with a brief stint in Virginia.

One of the best parts of not being “from here” is that I am always finding new pockets of New England that I never knew existed. Earlier this year, my sister moved to the alluring town of Northampton, and I began a love affair with Western Massachusetts. Last month, I spent some time in the Woodstock, Vermont area, and quickly proclaimed that this was my favorite spot and soon found myself gazing through storefront windows at real estate listings.  I tend to get a little extreme when I discover a new spot.

So it was no surprise to me that I quickly fell for the seaside town of Westport, MA when I first visited vacationing friends there a few summers back. When I received an invitation to visit again this summer, I jumped at the chance. Westport, to me, is pretty much perfect. The combination of family farms, a calm tidal river, great beaches, and gorgeous historic homes makes my heart ache just thinking about it.

Unlike other areas by the ocean, Westport retains its near-rural feel, and lacks some of the over development that other beach towns experience. Plus, they have excellent food there, and a real sense of responsibility and loyalty to the local food movement. And why not? This section of southeastern Massachusetts grows some of the best produce (I can personally attest as a CSA member of nearby Silverbrook Farm in Dartmouth), produces some of New England’s best wines, and is now home to one of the most intriguing cheese-makers in the region, Shy Brothers Farm.

Those shy Santos brothers represent the third generation of their family to live and work on their Westport dairy farm. A few years ago, they faced the frightening prospect of losing their farm – and their way of life – due to out of control milk prices that led to declining profits from their traditional dairy business. With the help of some enterprising friends, they took another look at their land, their herd and their goals and began to make some pretty vast changes, transitioning from producing milk to producing their own artisan cheeses. After a lot of research, hard work and a few trips to France, the brothers created a unique cows’ milk cheese that they call hannahbells, named for both the shape of the cheese and after their mother, Hannah. These shy brothers, so close to losing everything, can now see their cheese being served at some of New England’s finest restaurants, for sale at specialty shops around the region, and doing brisk internet sales. They have also begun to receive a lot of well-deserved buzz for their cheese, raking in several awards and a lot of press.

Their website gives you some great suggestions for using the adorable and tasty miniature cheeses, as well as providing you with information on where to find hannahbells at stores and in restaurants. Personally, I love popping these little thimble sized morsels into my mouth just the way they are, or alongside a nice glass of wine and some cured meats. However, as the hannahbells melt very well, it is also fun to experiment, as I have with the recipe below. The slight earthiness of the hannahbells makes them a natural fit with mushrooms, shallots and rosemary. Serve these crostini up as an easy appetizer for drop-by guests, or alongside a big green salad for a weekend lunch or light dinner.

I have yet to try their newest product, a ricotta-like cheese that they call cloumage, but I plan to as soon as I can get my hands on it. After all, tasting locally made cheeses is very much like tasting the region itself, as the core ingredients start with the unique pasture blessed with warm sun, rolling fog and the cool sea air. Based on what I have tasted so far with the hannahbells, I will say that I think Westport is a very fine terroir indeed!

Mushroom and Hannahbell Crostini

Ingredients

• 1 container of hannahbells (I used their Classic French version, but I think any of the flavors would work well!)
• 1 baguette, cut into one inch thick rounds
• 1 pint of mushrooms, sliced (I used simple white mushrooms, feel free to go fancier if you prefer, but mine were delicious)
• 1 large shallot, thinly sliced
• 1 clove of garlic, minced
• 1 1/2 tablespoons butter, divided
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• salt and pepper
• 1/2 tablespoon rosemary, finely chopped
• special equipment- a silicon brush

Directions:

Turn on the broiler. Heat a pat of butter (about 1/2 tablespoon) and olive oil over medium heat until the butter melts and begins to just bubble. Add the sliced shallots and cook until just translucent and fragrant (probably one of the best scents in the world, by the way). Add mushrooms and cook until lightly browned and the moisture has cooked off, about 10-12 minutes. Add the finely chopped rosemary, and season with salt and pepper and mix until well incorporated. Empty the mushroom mixture into a medium sized bowl and put aside.

Put the rest of the butter into the pan with the minced garlic and heat until butter has melted and garlic is no longer raw and is becoming fragrant (be careful not to burn the garlic). Take the sliced baguette and “paint” the slices with the melted garlic butter and place on a cookie sheet.

Toss the chopped hannahbells with the mushroom mixture and spoon an equal amount onto each round. Place the cookie sheet under the broiler and cook until the cheese has melted and the edges of the toasts have lightly browned. Be careful not to burn the toasts, as the broiler will cook them very quickly- probably about 5 minutes.

For more information about the Shy Brothers Farm, see their great website. Make sure to also check out their blog, as they make a few great beer and wine pairing suggestions! Click here to see where you can purchase these special cheeses.

I’ve worked for too many big companies to know that small companies truly rock. (I’m not sure if I mentioned previously, but I work here now!) Certainly, small companies come with their requisite downsides – like way too much work for far too few people – but the upsides are beyond words, really. It’s fabulous to work with three other fabulous women who care about doing what’s right, who prioritize delivering the highest levels of service and who are seriously in love with their gigs. Trips to Paris don’t suck either.

Earlier this summer, most of us (sadly, absent our fearless leader) gathered in New York City for lots of work and a touch of play. We also said good bye to one of us, a fearless young lady heading off to business school. To toast her new challenge and weep for our loss, we gathered at The Harrison in Lower Manhattan for a perfect send-off dinner.

Luckily, the New York City heat wave hadn’t yet set in and we grabbed a table outside right on Greenwich Street in Tribeca, but not before being welcomed by a friendly hostess and the wonderful Amanda Freitag, executive chef at The Harrison. We were all a little surprised to see her at the front door but after reading up on her a bit more, I learned it was quite in her character to stand at the front door, smiling at guests.

Like Joanne Chang of Flour Bakery in Boston, Amanda realizes that food is only one part of the dining equation and puts a lot of weight into crafting an experience for her guests. Eat Boutique is all about the experience behind the food, the story behind the meal, and how old-fashioned hospitality can transcend your life. Amanda totally gets this.

Thanks to Amanda and her amazing staff, the entire evening was full of fun. The menu is incredibly fresh, served with a light, expert touch – think no weighty sauces or heavy deep fries but amazing flavors seasoned exceptionally well. The octopus salad won all of our hearts, as did the lightly deep-fried troutlings. I challenge anyone to make their troutlings, beautiful tiny trout, taste better.

We practically inhaled our meal, scooping up every last morsel of octopus. Each of our bites were alternated with fun personal stories, giving us a great chance to get to know each other a bit. We also became familiar with the locals and giggled when Maggie Gyllenhaal stood by our table, trying to get a taxi. We thought only in New York City would it be practically impossible for Maggie Gyllenhaal to hail a taxi cab. In any other U.S. city, she might be recognized and helped quickly. But it was rush hour, and while she’s totally cute, New Yorkers don’t really care about celebrity.

Several factors made the night fairly perfect: gorgeous fresh food, a corner table in hip Tribeca, a few unique cocktails, kind new colleagues/friends, and absolutely lovely view of a sliver of the ocean as the sun set just behind it. We toasted hello and toasted good bye, and looked forward to our next amazing meal with each other. Hopefully, in Paris next time.

Disclaimer: I am actually not a huge baker. I like to bake, but I seldom do it for many reasons.

Ingredients

• 2 large eggs
• 1 1/4 cups milk
• 2 tablespoons melted butter
• 1 1/2 cups King Arthur Unbleached All-Purpose Flour (I used 3/4 cup King Arthur All Purpose Flour and 3/4 cup KAF 9 Grain Flour)
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 cup raspberries, blueberries, or a mix of both (optional)

Directions:

Beat the eggs and milk until light and foamy, about 3 minutes at high speed of a stand or hand mixer. Stir in the butter.

Whisk the dry ingredients together to evenly distribute the salt, baking powder and sweetener.Gently and quickly mix into the egg and milk mixture. Let the batter rest for at least 15 minutes, while the griddle is heating; it’ll thicken slightly.

Heat a heavy frying pan over medium heat, or set an electric griddle to 350°F. Lightly grease frying pan or griddle (with butter, vegetable oil or non-stick spray) The pan or griddle is ready if a drop of water will skitter across the surface, evaporating immediately.

Drop 1/3 cupfuls of batter onto the lightly greased griddle. Bake on one side until bubbles begin to form and break. If you are using berries, carefully add them now to the pancakes. Turn the pancakes and cook the other side till brown. Turn over only once. Serve immediately, or keep warm in a 200 degree oven until ready to serve.

Life used to be so easy. At least my lunch choices were. I’d saunter over to the Haut Marais, into le Marché des Enfants Rouges, and hit up Alain, “my” sandwich guy. It started one day when I ordered the delicious organic smoked salmon sandwich that he made on ciabatta and slowly, patiently toasted up to crunchy perfection on his crepe burner. I quickly became addicted. Then he introduced the Cornet Vegetarien, and suddenly all bets were off. Inside a savory crepe, he’d combine gobs of delicious ingredients (“tout bio!” he’d proudly point out) such as fresh greens and mushrooms, grated carrots and fennel, marinated onions, sliced avocado and chèvre, olive oil, chives, sea salt, diced parsley, lemon juice, lime zest, and, à la fin, honey—or, ”the French touch!” in Alain’s words. In my own words, the best sandwich in the city.

Merce and the Muse, Tartes Kluger – Julien Hausherr

But suddenly, my choices are a lot more plentiful. Casual eateries keep popping up, making me feel a little torn about sampling the new goods versus sticking to what I know and love. But let’s be honest: a girl can’t live on sandwiches alone. And as much as I’d like to eat several lunches a day, I must make my choices wisely. So, while I still visit Alain as often as possible, I’ve also been eating up the other fresh dishes put forth in the Haut Marais these days.

Cococook – Julien Hausherr

Say it’s a nice, sunny day and I’m heading to Square du Temple or Square Georges Cain, craving something beyond a sandwich for lunch. I exit the back of the Marché des Enfants Rouges, on rue Charlot, to the brilliant Cococook. Open for nearly a year now, it’s the kind of fresh and simple take-out food that has been perfected in U.S. cities like New York and San Francisco: a simple spinach salad, studded with sesame seeds, for example, or quinoa with coriander chicken and butternut squash. There are healthy drinks (carrot-ginger-orange juice) and naughty desserts (chocolate caramel tarte). But maybe the best thing is that the cute and clean operation is open every day and every night and even delivers—a true rarity in this city.

Tartes Kluger – Julien Hausherr

Instead of sitting in a park, sometimes I want a quiet oasis where I can enjoy my food—in which case I hit up Tartes Kluger. Tucked a block beyond the neighborhood’s sceniest intersection (rues Charlot and Bretagne), this serene spot is friendly and comfortable, with two communal tables, Anglo magazines (Bon Appetit and Jamie—yay) and zero pretension. The tartes are available across town at different restaurants such as Colette, and change depending on seasonal inspiration. What I especially like about them—aside from the giant salads they’re served along with—is that there’s usually at least one unexpected ingredient. The salmon tarte, for example, is paired with dill, oui, but also asparagus, rather than spinach. While the spinach tarte is made with ricotta instead of goat cheese. And don’t even get me started on the beautiful and delicious fruit tartes, to say nothing of the killer chocolate tarte.

Rose Bakery – Julien Hausherr

Speaking of amazing desserts, when Rose Bakery descended from rue des Martyrs and opened in the Haut Marais in ’08, it brought its celebrated scones, cheesecake and carrot cake with it. These English baked goods and other veggie-friendly menu items, like potato salad, scrambled eggs and pizzettes, were much more novel—but no less appreciated—than when the original bakery opened in 2002.

Rose Bakery – Julien Hausherr

Even today, every visit to the rue Debelleyme outpost inspires gasps of excitement (tofu and dashi—in gay Paris!) and sighs of contentment (hel-lo, lemon pound cake), whether I cram myself at one of the tables in the long, narrow restaurant so I can inhale the delightful smells coming from the open kitchen, or take my goods to enjoy outside.

Merce and the Muse – Julien Hausherr

And then there’s the new girl in town. Opening next door to the new gelateria, Mary (Nutella gelato for le gouter??), Merce and the Muse is another welcome taste of home. A DC native, Merce (pronounced “Mer-cy”) was always jonesing for a good cup of coffee that could be enjoyed in a casual, friendly hangout. After running her own baking company, and journeying to Denmark’s Coffee Collective to get schooled in proper preparation, she recently opened her coffee shop/café on rue Dupuis. With do-whop on the phonograph, and beet, granny smith and chèvre salad served from big terracotta picnic bowls, you’d swear you were on the East Coast, not the Haut Marias. At least I do. Which is why you’re almost guaranteed to find me there every weekend this summer.

Related Links:

• Cococook, 30 Rue Charlot, 3e, 01 42 74 80 00
• Tartes Kluger, 6 rue du Forez, 3e, 01 53 01 53 53
• Merce and the Muse, 1 bis rue Dupuis, 3e
• Amy’s list of places to score American foods in Paris
• Richard Nahem’s favorite spots in the Marais
• Parisien Salon on cantine-dining in Paris
• Meg Zimbeck on Tartes Kluger
• David Lebovitz on Merce and the Muse, and Mary

Written by Amy Thomas for the HiP Paris Blog. Julien Hausherr is a photographer based in Paris, specializing in architecture, still-life and reporting. Contact: julienhausherr@hotmail.fr. Looking for a fabulous vacation rental in Paris, Provence, or Tuscany? Check out Haven in Paris.

I finally got my hands onto some good stuff a few weeks ago. It was tall and red and green and full of subtle musty tartness that pleases me to no end. I searched high and low for this good stuff, patiently waiting for the good local version to hit the fruit stands. I live for this time of year.

The moment I found it, I chopped a pound of it into one inch pieces and stuffed them into my largest resealable glass jar. On top, I poured piles of organic sugar. With a little shake, the mixture was ready for the final ingredient.

I gently poured one liter of good vodka into the jar, and gave it all another shake, a bit more vigorous this time. The jar is now promptly stowed away in the back of my pantry. Every few days, I shake shake shake the jar, and dream of the moment when the stewing and shaking and sitting and waiting will pay off.

This cordial-making ritual has become an annual affair. I wish I could sell this stuff to you because it’s just so good. It sits for a month or two, as is, and then after a good strain, sits even longer. I’ve been known to keep it tucked away for up to four more months. Patience does pay off because there’s no other cordial that makes me smile like Rhubarb Liquor!

This stuff is definitely an acquired taste. It isn’t pure candy. It’s totally tart and sweet and mellow and divine. Pictures soon, people! Lest you think I don’t indulge in one of my favorite stalks immediately, take a peek below. Rhubarb preserves graces my morning yogurt, with berries, on a regular basis. It’s my daily reminder of some good stuff stewing in the back of my pantry, waiting to please my guests right around late summer or early fall, depending on how patient I can truly be.

While Eat Boutique is not necessarily a site where we discuss the politics of food, this subject matters to any one who cares about what they eat, where that food comes from, and the people that produce that food. In that vein, we thought you all might be interested in learning more about a new documentary about the rising movement of Americans who are seeking to re-invent our food system. The film, called FRESH, celebrates the farmers, purveyors and consumers who are taking matters into their own hands. The documentary also serves as a guide to empower people like us to take action in small and simple ways that can make a big difference.

To celebrate the release of the movie in the greater Boston area, a series of events and farm-to-table dinners have been planned. Last week, a group of local food advocates, including Willow Blish from Slow Food Boston, John Lee from Allandale Farm, J.J Gonson from Cuisine en Locale, and Jeff Morin from City Feed and Supply, served on a panel to discuss their roles in the local food movement.

When the evening was opened up for questions, it was clear that the people in the room last night were frustrated. From discussions covering the state of food served in our schools, to the affordability of farmers’ market produce, to food deserts, there is certainly much to cause anger. However, as John Lee, the owner/farmer of Allandale Farm said last night, five years ago, there never would have been a 100+ crowd gathered to listen and discuss the state of local food. Five years ago, it was almost impossible for Lee to sell produce that wasn’t tightly wrapped in cellophane, with all of the leaves chopped off and no sign that it actually came from the ground. Things are changing for the better, and rather than dismissing this recent interest in our food as a trend, we should continue to educate ourselves and those around us about the food that we eat.

While the problem is extremely multi-faceted, the message was clear: vote with your food purchases. Every time we buy food, we are making a significant choice. As they say, money talks. As much as you can, buy food that has been produced by small-scale farms and within your region. Connect with those farmers, know from where your food comes. Your body will thank you and you can enjoy that food even more, knowing that your farmers have been paid a good, fair wage and that your food hasn’t traveled, un-ripened, from thousands of miles away in an 18-wheeler. If you can’t make it to a farmers’ market frequently, start being that squeaky wheel. Ask for fresh, local produce at your local grocery store. The more consumers that ask for locally grown produce, the more likely that something will happen.

What else can YOU do? For starters, you can learn more about the movement by seeing the movie FRESH, but you’ll have to hurry. In the greater Boston area, you can see the film at the Brattle Theatre in Harvard Square until June 25. While FRESH week’s activities are nearly over, you can visit any of the restaurants that hosted farm-to-table dinners and talks and enjoy quality, local food.

We’d love to open up this discussion to our readers. What simple changes have you made to better connect with the food that you eat?  Do you know an un-sung hero in the local food movement that is doing amazing work? Share with us below!

For those of you who have had the joy of spending time at the Marliave in downtown Boston, you are likely familiar with their fun cocktails, great wine list, cool vintage atmosphere and if you are particularly lucky – their incredible sliders. However, this post does not focus on their spacious upstairs bars and dining rooms, but the tiny five-seat bar at street level on Province Street.

As a regular café customer in this space over the last year or two, I have become smitten with the space; the charming barista, Tommy; the fantastic coffee and “mini” breakfast treats that they serve there. So when I saw an announcement that the little café was going to be transformed into an afternoon/evening bar featuring cheese, wine, scotch and chocolates, I was pretty freaking excited. Attending the cheese bar’s opening night, I was literally first in line.

I’m here to tell you that the experience is fantastic at the cheese counter. Friendly, knowledgeable servers are ready to give great suggestions and pairing recommendations.  The menu suggests different wines to try alongside the cheeses, and there is a fantastic selection of fine scotches and chocolate truffles, if that’s your thing.

While visiting the Marliave’s cheese counter is a real treat that I would recommend to anyone living in or visiting the greater Boston area, I think that you could also gain real inspiration from your trip and (nearly) duplicate the experience by making your own cheese plate.

Since the Marliave received their cheese education from the experts at Formaggio, I would venture a guess that one could find most (if not all) of the featured offerings at their store. I have also seen many of these cheeses for sale at Whole Foods around the region, so for those of you not in the immediate area, inquire about the following selections at your local cheese counter:

• Bucheron, a French chevre, is simply nothing like the ubiquitous logs of goat cheese found in most grocery stores. It is buttery and velvety with two different textures and consistencies; a wide creamy rind and a flakier, brighter interior.  It is probably my favorite cheese and very hard to resist when I see it at restaurants or for sale at a shop.
• Any Taleggio is a winner in my book. A soft, Italian cheese that usually features a nice funky scent, taleggio pairs really well with a sweet spread, like a fig jam or the honey that it is served with at the Marliave. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
• For cheese that is made right here in New England, I can’t write about cheese without sharing my love for Cabot Clothbound Cheddar. Now, I love Cabot cheddar as my everyday cheese, but their special clothbound version really takes things to a whole new level. The crumbly texture and slightly sweet and nutty flavor makes this cheddar a real crowd pleaser.

Marliave serves up their cheese along with a great spread: fig jam, spiced walnuts, lavender honey and a choice of toasted breads. I suggest you pick up something similar for a great tasting experience! Marliave has some great recommendations for wine pairings with each cheese, and I have always really loved their suggestions (one idea in particular that I picked up from the café was to pair bubbly with creamy cheeses, like the Taleggio – Try it.) For more information, check out the cheese menu on their website for more pairing suggestions and to plan your visit!

Photos by splityarn and Shelby Graham

I needed a break. I’m sure you know the drill. You work, work, work 60 hours each week and forget that, wow, the seasons are changing right before your eyes and, wow, you’re so lucky to live in Massachusetts. But I had forgotten all that and desperately needed a mini-vacation, a moment to reconnect with my husband and appreciate the glorious summer that’s beginning to cloak one of my favorite parts of the world, the New England coastline.

Since a real vacation is not in my immediate future and I was itching for a tiny break, I knew the husband could see an idea in my eye when I returned from lunch with one of my favorite foodie people, Heather Atwood, a wonderful lady, food columnist at the Gloucester Daily Times, and sometimes-writer for this very site. She had just met the team at Market Restaurant in Gloucester, Massachusetts and tasted their delicious menu; I was urged to visit as soon as possible.

Gloucester is about 45 minutes from Boston, but only half that from me, so I made an early reservation and zipped out to the seashore on Saturday evening. As the traffic began to build up (as it’s wont to do near the beach), I worried a bit. I didn’t want a busy beach experience, I simply wanted to spend a quiet evening staring at some bobbing boats and devouring some local food. Good, local food. If the traffic didn’t stress me out enough, the anticipation of visiting a new restaurant that had been open only two days did worry me. The hubby and I really needed a chance to breathe and appreciate life, and a bad meal wasn’t going to aid in our relief.

Market Restaurant isn’t exactly in downtown Gloucester. It’s in the village of Annisquam, out on this little interior harbor called Lobster Cove. It’s the type of village that is, as Heather puts it, quite “pure.” (I wondered what she meant, and totally got it the moment we drove into town.) Annisquam is primarily a residential neighborhood, but it does have one restaurant, one little spot on the dock that was recently occupied by this energetic twosome who have some fabulous resumes, including gigs at Alice Waters legendary Chez Panisse in Berkeley, California.

As we turned the bend toward the restaurant, the skies suddenly opened up, letting loose a steady stream of fat rain drops and a few pounds of thunder. It was beautiful and frustrating at the same time. I believe in signs and a downpour was the distinct sign that something big might happen. Well, it totally did. I had one of the most refreshing and friendliest evenings in a long, long time.

Before I even tasted a morsel, I fell in love with the very modest restaurant decor. This joint is small, with seating for about 30 guests, and many of those guests are served at a long bar. The walls are covered in a mellow yellow and warm almost-periwinkle blue, colors I somehow firmly associate with the seaside. The woods in the room are all blond and the tables are so sweet, each pressed and laminated with maps of the region.

The food was as modest as the decor, but in the best possible way. My husband’s pounded tuna carpaccio was sweet, tart and full of texture, thanks to some crispy-fried shallots. It was so pretty and pure on the plate, tempting me to sneak fork-fulls when he was busy staring out at the harbor. I stared out the window too, and was especially touched when a bride and groom jumped onto their sailboat and proceeded to sail off toward their new life… and their reception around the curve. I had a flash of my own wedding, also held on a cove, and smiled before I dug into my dish.

My first course was as pretty as my hubby’s. Imagine a white cafe-style plate, thick and weighty as if it belongs in a roadside diner, but loaded with barely cooked and lightly seasoned shaved asparagus, radicchio, soft-boiled eggs and a crunchy homemade romesco sauce. The pretty pink radish set it all off beautifully… and reminded me that my spicy gems will be ready for harvest next week.

Our next courses were so special too. My salmon was gently cooked (poached? baked?) with butter and potatoes and fava beans and fresh dill and more butter. I couldn’t have been more pleased with the soft dish, each bite sprinkled with fresh local dill sprigs. The hubby loves potatoes and kept nibbling mine. That was fine. I wasted no time lapping up the herby aioli that accompanied his seafood cakes, lightly fried, full of lobster and scallops and barely anything else. I believe they took the position that when you have seafood this fresh, you don’t need much else.

Market Restaurant is very new, so their liquor license is still in progress. That was no bother to us, because we came prepared with a luscious bottle of Hendry Primitivo from our favorite vineyard in Carneros, a region of Napa Valley. The bottle was a precious souvenir from our honeymoon. We keep a small stash of Hendry wines in the bottom of our wine rack (the special spot, no?) and only grab a bottle when the moment moves us. Every moment at Market Restaurant definitely moved us. We felt lucky to live in a region that was finally getting its due, full of fresh local product, meats and grains that would compel seriously inspired chefs to take on an old lobster shack. More pointedly, chefs who would take something small and make it very big, all the while keeping it small… if you follow my drift.

While the food touched our hearts, we were far more impressed by Market’s gift for delivering gentle hospitality. We were seated fairly immediately. But for those forced to wait a few, they were invited to do so on a beautiful deck. With a glass of wine in hand and that gentle breeze, I would have waited all night.

The moment I sat down, my server Lauren (hello, Lauren!) smiled her sweet smile and pointed out that she recognized me from the prior day. In fact, she was in the very same restaurant where Heather and I had eaten lunch, in the same room when Heather urged me to visit Market Restaurant. I love coincidences. Between the downpour and the familiar woman walking us through our meal, the signs were stacking up in our favor.

Lauren was a delight, but so was every staff person in that small room. Everyone was friendly and almost lit up from within. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who felt lucky; the staff seemed united, happy to be making great experiences for each guest. (You can follow Market’s owners/founders on Twitter here.)

The little signs didn’t stop there. Two other little strokes of genius will keep Market in my memory. First, I always celebrate super salty butter and when a restaurant serves creamy butter loaded with delicate salt, I feel loved with each brush of the good stuff on my crusty bread. Market serves bread from A.J. King in Salem, Massachusetts. A.J. King makes some great bread and the butter only made it shine more.

The next special little sign was the milk served with my coffee. Both the coffee and milk were lovely and local, but better yet, the milk was served in the cutest little glass bottles labeled as though they were from, get this, Normandie. As in, France. As in, where I lived for the early part of this year. As in, it may not mean much to others but for me, it was a gentle reminder of my time over there. It hit a memory in the best possible way, and stuck my entire Market experience into my memory as well, way back there, in the spot where you just don’t forget for a long, long time.

Our dinner at Market was really wonderful, and the entire experience moved me to want to cook. (Don’t you love it when that happens? When a chef or restaurant or experience sparkles enough to make you say, “I want to do that. I bet if I focused, I could do that!”) So I spent today focused on making that herby aioli. As members of the Cape Ann Fresh Catch weekly distribution program, we get piles of amazing fish from just off the coast of Gloucester every week. I knew that herby aioli would go well with any of it, so made a large batch packed with herbs from my garden, local eggs from my farm (a.k.a., my community-supported agriculture program) and lots of olive oil. It wasn’t perfect, but cooking never is. I’ve stashed it away in my fridge for our fish later this week.

So while the food and hospitality and decor were all very lovely, Market restaurant won’t be remembered for all those things individually. I’ll remember the smiles from the staff, the bride and groom on the boat, and the downpour that finally broke for the sun to shine down on this little cove. I’ll remember the vacation vibe radiating from all the guests and from one previously stressed-out husband and wife (us!). I’ll remember and remake that aioli all summer long, and perhaps twist it up and make it mine. And I’m certainly bringing all my summer visitors out to Market Restaurant, so they can make their own little memories.