I wonder how many people out there are like me: when my birthday comes around (or within 4 months…) my mind immediately turns to restaurants. Rather than thinking about holes in my summer wardrobe or dropping hints about my need for a new iPod, I go online and search for the location of my birthday dinner. This year, while I was well underway with making my June 22nd reservation, my husband pre-empted me with a surprise the week before — a dinner and birthday gift rolled up into one.
He took me, and two friends, to Stir — Barbara Lynch’s new venture in the South End. Not only did we eat a great meal, but we watched it being cooked in front of us by two of Ms. Lynch’s skilled chefs. The concept is straightforward and brilliant: each class is based on a different cookbook, selected from one of the many stacked on the bookshelves on one wall of the cozy kitchen. Two talents from the Barbara Lynch Gruppo choose 3 or more recipes from the cookbook to demonstrate and serve to the guests, who number no greater than nine. My birthday dinner, based on The River Cottage Meat Book
My mother’s birthday followed closely behind mine, and I borrowed RJ’s wonderful idea. For Mom, the cookbook du jour was A16: Food + Wine
What is so lovely about Stir is that it feels like a dinner party among friends. They only allow 8-9 people at a time, and the chefs encourage questions and dialogue as they cook their way through the menu. Of the people around the table at my mom’s birthday dinner, half were repeat attendees (one guy was on his fourth visit) and the rest was my family. It felt very familiar and casual, despite the decadent food and wine.
There’s also a tactile element I really enjoy – at my first Stir experience they passed around raw pork belly so we could feel the skin before the cooking process made it crunchy like candy, and the other night we handled pizza dough at different stages of rise so we could understand the results of proofing and kneading.
Best of all, however, is the staff. In June, we met Molly, the executive sous chef at Stir, and Jericha, one of the butchers at the Butcher Shop. This month, Molly was again regaling us with her fun tales of culinary school but stationed just to my left was none other than Barbara Lynch! I can’t tell you what a treat it was to watch and learn from this master chef. She forced the elastic pizza dough into submission, loosed handfuls of kosher salt with abandon, and divulged some of her favorite places to eat in Boston/Cambridge: Oleana, Hungry Mother, and Sel de la Terre (plus Cambridge One and Upper Crust for pizza). Personally, I must confess that my favorite place to eat in Boston is Stir. The experience is unique, unpredictable, and fun – it would be perfect for a first date if it weren’t so gosh darn expensive. While you’re saving up, however, consider buying the book, due out in the fall, to tide you over: STIR: Mixing It Up in the Italian Tradition
is my first indulgence (and you never forget your first, I’m told). This novel, the author’s debut, is exceptionally crafted. Bauermeister sculpts each character with rich language and heartfelt empathy, revealing them slowly through their most intimate histories – an elderly couple’s crisis of infidelity and eventual reparation, a young man’s heartbreak over the death of his wife, a new mother’s conflicted self-perception – and then bringing them all together around the counter at the cooking school named in the title.
, a memoir by Kathleen Flinn. Also about a cooking school, specifically Le Cordon Bleu, Flinn’s writing lacks all of the elegance and expert pacing of Bauermeister’s. Admittedly, Flinn is a trained journalist and is writing non-fiction. Nevertheless, the reader could have been, but is not, transported by her book. I don’t fall in love with her husband-to-be along with her. I do not feel her frustration or her intense determination — I just hear it. Does that make sense? I recall the most basic lesson of college-level creative (and academic) writing — Show Don’t Tell. Flinn’s book was more of a telling. As 
This is not to say I didn’t enjoy the book at all. I did. As did many other 
As RJ and I toured Northern California, we often saw restaurants described as “California cuisine”. For us New England folk, that means avocados. A Californian sandwich in Boston could translate to any number of possible combinations but must include avocado and maybe sprouts but no red meat. A California sushi roll has crabstick and avocado and sometimes cucumber. Guess what lies in a fan atop a Californian salad? Yup. The Haas.
The next day we stopped in at the 
Though we had planned on going to 
For dinner, we ordered the pinnacle of bistro foods: a perfectly-cooked steak frites with maitre d’hotel butter for RJ and a roast chicken half au jus for me. I have never eaten chicken so good before in my life – sorry 
I have a great excuse to explain my recent absence from posting — RJ and I have been on our (belated) honeymoon – a whirlwind tour of California, including Napa, Tahoe, and San Francisco.
Actually, everything we tasted here was very good, and we were astonished to know that this vineyard we’d never heard of before was the second vineyard ever established in Napa, and the first to start making champenois-method sparkling wine here.
g as a natural phenomenon (to me) but doesn’t look more impressive than the fountains in Las Vegas or even some here in Napa…. After that, I redeemed myself by taking RJ to some good ol’ fashioned BBQ at Buster’s, a place I read about on Trip Advisor. We ordered the famous Tri-Tip sandwich with baked beans on the side, and the ½ rack of ribs with coleslaw on the side. The ribs were rather blah… pretty standard and certainly not the baby back version that RJ prefers. The tri-tip, on the other hand, was phenomenal. A slow-cooked cut of steak, sliced and smothered in BBQ sauce, on a sandwich of toasted garlic bread (with a beer for RJ). MMM! I am absolved of all previous (tourist) sins. We aimed to go to Sterling vineyards next and ride the gondola, but the line (not too long, but the first we’ve seen) deterred RJ and he directed me to look at a picture of the view rather than to take the actual trip. Fine by me, as I’m not wild about the wine there.
We continued on, following the recommendation of our guide, Marshall from Schramsberg, to the Silverado trail. Though I have no complaints about the St. Helena Highway, the Silverado Trail was certainly a treat. It was curvy and fun, weaving through fields and hillsides covered with acres of vines and blankets of mustard flowers. We went back through the towns we’d seen on our way in – St. Helena, Oakville, Yountville – and ended up in the Stag’s Leap district. We went first to the “Persian Palace” – Dariouche – and were mildly disappointed with the spiciness of everything from the Chardonnay to the Cabernet Franc to the Cabernet Sauvignon. The wines weren’t bad, but were not – in our opinion – worthy of the high ratings in Wine Spectator. On our trip back north, we stopped at Chimney Rock for two tastings – a current release flight for me, and a Cabernet tasting for RJ. I was incredibly impressed by the 
Bordeaux-style white served first, and again by the Cabernet 2004. RJ thought the 2003 Cabernet was one of the best Cabs he’d ever tasted – so much so that he neglected to share!! We agreed to come back later to taste the “Reserve” flight and maybe buy some wines. Mike is on the lookout for us! I think that that was our last sober experience of good judgment, for as we tasted at our next stop – Regusci – we were much less prudent! I don’t, however, doubt our tastebuds, for this was the best wine I’ve had in a long while. The Chardonnay was phenomenal, followed by great merlot, transcendent zinfandel, and a blend red that we could not stop raving about: the Patriarch. While our favorite was the 100% Cabernet, our good pal Jonesy recommended that we wait for the 2006 vintage to shell out on that one. We ended up purchasing a bottle of the Zin and one of the Patriarch, and they comp-ed our tasting fees. Love it!!
From My Table...to Yours 