Category Archives: travel


Fellow pizza freaks, I recently wrote a little write-up for Slice about the fantastic VPN pies at Pizzeria Libretto, a small restaurant in Toronto’s Little Portugal. In my own limited experience, it is, by far, the best pie I’ve eaten in Canada. (Miles better than anything we have in Montreal, that’s for sure.) I went to lunch alone while Adam was doing some research, and brought him my leftovers, neatly packaged by the restaurant in a cute bag. Needless to say, he was stoked when I surprised him with some cold pizza to snack on while we drove to Norman Hardie! Read the whole thing here.

Also, as we made our way through the city on our way to Prince Edward County, I noticed this Kay Gardner bridge and immediately thought of Kay Gardner, the awesome new age musician. I couldn’t believe that someone in Toronto would name a bridge after her! I thought it was the coolest thing that I had ever seen. Adam, however, thought I was crazy and that no one would do that. He was right. The bridge is named after some politician. Lame.



I never would have imagined that I would find myself spending the night in the private staff quarters of one of Ontario’s finest wineries, but then again, Adam always has had a way of surprising me.

Let me explain. Immediately following our trip down to Ithaca for Meredith’s wedding, we spontaneously decided to make our way through Ontario before returning to Montreal.

We drove through Niagara Falls (I’ll spare you the photos I ecstatically took of the insane wax museums, cheesy restaurants, and, inexplicably, haunted houses that line the mains streets of the town) and spent one day and one night in Toronto (more on that soon!), so Adam could do more work on his book.

The morning we were to leave Toronto, we were faced with a question — should we drive straight back to Montreal, or take a day-long detour through Prince Edward County?

PEC is a gorgeous, bucolic wine region in Ontario known for its delicious Burgundy-style pinot noirs. At the lobster dinner party we hosted earlier this summer, we sampled a fair amount of French white burgundies — eight, in fact. (It was a hectic night). But there was one lone bottle of Canadian white burgundy, from a small winery in PEC called Norman Hardie.

Amazingly, the verdict was unanimous: this bottle of Ontario wine was everyone’s favorite burgundy. By a long shot. It was sublime.

So back in Toronto, Adam tells me to pack my bags. We’re leaving Toronto in an hour, and we’re going to Norman Hardie after all. To stay. For the night.

“Wait. So what you’re saying is, we’re staying at a hotel near the winery? Is that what’s happening?” — Me

Nope. We were staying at the winery. In a bed. On their property. Oh, and they were cooking us dinner. Don’t ask me how Adam makes these things happen. He has a gift for it.

A few hours and three Popul Vuh CDs later, we arrived at Norm’s estate, just as the sun was dipping out of sight. It was a stunning property — undulating acres of twisting vines, all bearing tiny, hard green grapes.

When we arrived, our host, Richard, one of the associate wine makers, welcomed us into the kitchen, which was housed in this beautiful hangar that also housed all of their barrels. Of course, he poured us a glass of wine right away.

I was happy to sit back, while Adam had the pleasure of fiendishly nerding out with fellow wine freaks. After all, it’s not often you have a wine maker make you dinner.

The night went on and on, in the best way possible. It was like having dinner with old friends — that’s how fast we clicked.

We snuck upstairs to the tasting floor to pick up more wine for the dinner and grab some pasta.

Richard put us right to work, cutting squash, mushrooms, and onion for a huge pot of tomato sauce he was making. I’m glad he asked for help. I always feel more comfortable when I’m busy in a kitchen.

By then, the sun had almost disappeared. The sunsets in PEC? Spectacular.

This was our dining room table. We were surrounded by vats and vats of wine. It was a little surreal.

Of course, we had to being a few wines of our own, to spread the love. I died over this 2002 bottle of Simon Bize & Fils Savigny-lès-Beaune 1er Cru Aux Vergelesses. (Just a few days earlier, we drank the 1996; I can say with confidence that the 2002 vintage is spectacular in comparison).

Since the main topic of conversation was wine, they showed us a few priceless bottles that they’ve enjoyed on a few drunken, late nights. Apparently that 1982 Penfolds is really something else.

The pasta — made with heirloom tomatoes and basil from their own garden — was outstanding. Meaty, rich, and full of sweet tomato flavor.

Oh, and it was topped with a perfectly grilled, medium-rare beef tenderloin. I told you this night was special. At this point, I was beside myself with happiness. I ate all of my steak, plus a few bites stolen from Adam’s plate.

We drank a lot of wine that night, including a very special Cabernet Franc that tasted like jalapenos. It was uncanny.

After dinner, Richard gave us a killer tour of their barrels, and explained a bunch of weird, insider wine knowledge (as a wine neophyte, I can honestly say that I had no idea what was happening).

Full of fantastic food and even better wine, I don’t think I’ve ever slept better in my life.

The next morning we woke up early and did — what else? — but a barrel tasting. (I had never done one before!) We grabbed coffee, muffins, toast, jam, and peanut butter at the adorable Tall Poppy Cafe, and then headed back to Norm’s for one final tasting before hitting the road. I wish I had taken photos at the Tall Poppy — they had hosted a wedding (!) the night before, so there were beautiful jars full of flowers everywhere.

A wine tasting at 9am may sound a bit intense to some (it certainly did to me), but the opportunity to taste straight from the barrel was too cool to pass up.

We were told to sip and spit — right onto the floor! (I tried to aim for the little cracks between the tiles). I laughed every time I attempted to spit, and dribbled wine onto my shirt like a crazy person.

We left shortly thereafter, with plenty of souvenirs (read: a case of wine) with which to remember our trip. As a final present, Richard sent us down to their garden, where he said I could pick whatever I wanted to take home with me. I went for the tomatoes and peppers, and we ate half of them, still wet from the morning dew, in the car on the way home.

Man. What an unforgettable night. Thank you Norman Hardie and crew for your incredible hospitality and generosity — and come visit us in Montreal soon!


After a few (okay, quite a few) detours — we’re unofficially calling it Natasha’s Great Eastern Canada Tour of 2011 — I’m finally, finally, back in Montreal.

That’s 24 hours in Toronto, a swing through Niagara Falls, 12 mindblowing, magical hours at Norman Hardie in Prince Edward County, and an afternoon in Ottawa, until I’m finally settled back into my sofa in Montreal 20 minutes ago. Canada is pretty rad.


Happy Independence Day to my American friends! There is perhaps no better wholesome, all-American holiday with which to share the news that you can now read my story about the wholesome, all-American baking and pastry community in Portland, Maine over at enRoute. We had the most tremendous time during our brief stay there earlier this year, and I’m already scheming ways to return. On Standard Baking Co:

Portland’s most renowned pastry shop, Standard Baking Co., is located under its sister restaurant, the James Beard-award-winner Fore Street, whose wood-fired kitchen can take much of the credit for Portland’s foodie reputation. Standard’s sweet wonders are inspired by old-world traditions: caramel-coloured pain au levain, impossibly tender croissants, spongy financiers and sumptuous morning buns swirled with caramel and nuts.

On Scratch Baking Co:

Some of Portland’s most heavenly baked offerings are found over the Casco Bay Bridge in South Portland. At Scratch Baking Co., unpretentious American desserts like graham crackers and shortbread studded with sea salt tumble forth from woven baskets. Scratch’s masterful blueberry scone is feather-light and tastes faintly of sweet cream. Its most popular item is an outrageously addictive, chewy-yet-crisp bagel, lovingly made with a nine-year-old sourdough named Lulu.

Click through the whole slideshow to read it all! I took so many more photos during our trip, and I’ll post more soon.



That’s right! My beyond rad boyfriend surprised me with an impromptu trip to Jamaica. See you next week!! I will personally be on the hunt for the perfect jerk chicken…


Working on another story right now, and it’s so awesome. Can you guess what it’s about?

The fever continues


Now that my story is published, I can share the rest of my foraging photos with you! Although I was out there primarily to hunt for ramps, we gathered lots of other treats, like fiddleheads, wild ginger, dandelion greens, and crinkle root. (We made use of everything: the fiddleheads sauteed with bacon and folded into pasta; the wild ginger was great steeped in hot water, like tea; and I adored the dandelion greens salad, dressed simply with a lemon-mustard vinaigrette). After such a long and cold winter, it felt really spectacular to be out in the damp forest, discovering new life in every corner. It was insanely fun.

And it really is true what they say — once you know what to look for, you start seeing wild vegetables everywhere. Once I saw my first fiddlehead, I couldn’t stop seeing them!