At the end of 2005, New York’s famed restaurateur, Sirio Maccioni, closed Le Cirque, destination of the rich and famous. During 2006, he and his three sons, open a new Le Cirque, taking four months longer and $4 million more than planned. The film follows this process, the new restaurant’s opening, and the emotional impact of two New York Times reviews over the next few months. Maccioni, in his 70s, seems tired, chained to his work for his sons’s sake; then, the restaurant opens and his indefatigable charm returns. It’s a roller coaster ride. At the film’s end, Maccioni, with a small Gucci bag on his hip, receives communion in a church in his home town of Montecatini Italy

My food-savvy mother used to wait for months between calls from her bilious, downtown-centric restaurant-critic son about a promising new dining spot opening in her uptown neighborhood. Lately, however, her phone has been ringing off the hook. The legions of normally discreet, unflappable Italian-food lovers on the Upper East Side are gleefully counting the days until the great pasta god Michael White opens the doors of his latest haute rustico outlet, Ristorante Morini, in the old former Centilore space on 85th and Madison. Until then, the place to see and be seen, among members of the local pasta cognoscenti, is Cesare Casella’s glossy new Madison Avenue market and restaurant, Salumeria Rosi Parmacotto. Unlike the popular West Side branch of Casella’s mini salumeria empire, this elevated little establishment features a poshly decorated dining room with white leather chairs, linen-covered tables, and frescoes featuring lounging Romans. There are all sorts of elaborate uptown preparations on the menu, but the dishes that work best are the ones that retain a trace of Casella’s trademark Tuscan style, like the plump, rosemary-perfumed pork chop and the pressed country chicken (pollo pressato), which my mother likes to complement with a bowl or two of Tuscan fries tossed with rosemary and cloves of fried garlic.

Until the kitchen at his latest exorbitantly priced, extravagantly renovated neo-speakeasy townhouse restaurant, Bill’s Food & Drink, finds its sea legs, Crown, on 81st Street, across from the Frank E. Campbell funeral chapel on Madison Avenue, remains the best place for uptown swells to sample former Waverly Inn chef John DeLucie’s particular take on ye olde Gilded Age delicacies like $55 cuts of steak Delmonico, smothered with spoonfuls of port-laced Bordelaise sauce, and large platters of roast Muscovy duck, cooked for two. Pork belly, house-smoked beef tongue, and a mug of foamy, gently intoxicating Milko-style pilsner is my dinner of choice whenever I drop into the excellent little gastropub Hospoda in the Bohemian National Hall on East 73rd Street. I’ve also been known to haunt The Penrose, nine blocks north on Second Avenue, where the lethal, jauntily named house cocktails (Jack Rabbit Club, Old Pal Spencer) cost a modest $11 and the menu includes a stout, Irish-style “spiced beef” brisket sandwich and the best custom-blend LaFrieda burger in this otherwise burger-challenged part of town. If you’re prepared to plunk down a small king’s ransom for expertly cooked pastas and an almost perfect rendition of vitello alla Milanese, then the great restaurateur Sirio Maccioni’s posh new brasserie Sirio Ristorante, at the Pierre, is the place for you, and if you’re in search of an old-school, heart-stopping steak dinner while wandering the canyons of midtown, I suggest you enter the scrum at Steve Hanson’s raucous new beefeater outlet Strip House Midtown and call (loudly) for the generously sized, beautifully charred Porterhouse for two, along with several servings of the signature house potatoes, which are shaped in little domes and crisped in flagons of goose fat.

Thank you to NY MAG.

Sirio Maccioni, Susan Bennett and Tony Bennett (Photo – Dustin Wayne Harris/Patrick McMullan)

A restaurant opening in the chandeliered halls of The Pierre, flagship of Taj hotels, held much promise for some unrepentant gorging, but we were tragically left empty mouthed at Sirio’s grand unveiling on Wednesday evening, with not a crumb going spare.

“We have a lot of dear friends, and a lot of people who love us,” revealed handsome and ever-so-modest director of Le Cirque Mauro Maccioni, one quarter of the Italian-American epicurean dynasty.

Flanked by the new restaurant’s namesake, his father Sirio, and restaurateur brothers Mario and Marco, the quad were undeniably the toast of the food-less feast, palpably excited about the newest extension of their empire. With the patriarch first working in The Pierre’s La Foray some 50 years ago, there was much to celebrate, with celebrities and the nipped and tucked of New York popping in to offer their cheeks for much congratulatory air kissing.

Mayor Bloomberg generously graced the party with his presence for a fraction of a second before making a quick exit, apparently having to dash to the scene of a shooting in the Bronx. Fitting so many events into one evening can be such hard work. But at least his fleeting visit actually took place within the event’s scheduled timeframe, which is more than can be said for tardy Martha Stewart. America’s favorite foodie and home perfectionist eventually arrived to lend her support to Sirio, and reveal her excitement to The Observer about her upcoming Halloween celebrations.

“I’m looking forward to Bette Midler’s annual Hulaween, of course, and am dressing up as an organic sea.”

No, we’re not too sure either. In fact, we’re not even sure she remembered to invite us!

Ms. Stewart was full of praise for the Maccioni family’s restaurant kingdom, particularly given some of her own culinary misadventures. “The worst food I’ve ever eaten was fried worms,” she revealed, although this unpleasant dish was served up to her in Mexico, and not prison, as we first thought.

Leading the parade of air kissers out of the door was Ivana Trump, who was hanging languidly on the arm of her perma-tanned boy toy throughout the evening.

“I know Sirio many years,” she drawled, having forced us into a secluded corner of the room to impart these words of wisdom.

The man of the hour, the elder Maccioni, clearly had quite the selection of groupies, although repeatedly forcing him out of his seat and into photos at times felt like a little bit too much. But the octogenarian remained reasonably upbeat throughout the evening, more so than we managed, although we might have fared better had we actually been given something to eat. Instead, we gobbled up all the people watching moments, which with the likes of Tony Bennett, Jean Shaffirof, Amy Fine Collins,  Somers Farkas, Sophie Theallet and Amy Sacco, left us pretty full anyhow.

Original Picasso painting at Picasso – tangledpasta.net

Captivating aspects of travel include partaking of the local cuisine.  Prior to our journey to the land of Las Vegas, I enlisted the help of a Bellagio Concierge.  Reservations were then made well in advance at Bellagio’s Picasso, Circo, and Todd English’s Olives. While the meals were all memorable, two out of the three proved to be our favorites.

Dinner at Picasso was not only superb, but a true gustatory experience.  Seated overlooking The Fountains, we savored delectable creations of Chef Julian Serrano such as Sauteed Ruby Red Shrimp [shrimp stacked and surrounded with zucchini, artichoke, tomato confit and piquillo pepper vinaigrette]; Roasted Tornado Loin of Colorado Lamb [with pisto, mint aioli, and tempura zucchini flower]; Sauteed Medallions of Fallow Deer [with spring truffles, white asparagus, and Zinfandel sauce; and scallops with mashed potatoes in a divine sauce.  Dessert too was pure poetry: Butterscotch Cream Cheese and Lime Tart [topped with toffee read pudding and rum ice cream].  The café au lait topped off a memorable dining experience.  Pleasing to the eye too was the eclectic floral arrangements on the dark wood sideboards enhanced the beauty of the surroundings.

In addition to the cuisine, the non-edible coup de grace of Picasso is the authentic Pablo Picasso artwork that covers the walls.  Large canvases watch diners feast on the French and Spanish-influenced cuisine of Picasso.  The china is fraught with Picasso drawings; each piece is different and makes for an artistic experience overall.  The Picasso ceramics displayed on a wall add to the aesthetic dining and art experience of the unique restaurant that bears the master’s name.

Another tremendous epicurean experience was at Circo, a Sirio Maccioni restaurant.   My parents cooked Southern Italian food, specifically Calabrese style, yet the regional Italian cooking of Tuscany is one I love.  My veneration of Tuscan cuisine was more than sated at Circo.  The imported fresh mozzarella from Italy’s Campagna province with yellow and red tomatoes topped with chopped fresh basil, made for an ambrosial Insalata Caprese. Spring truffles were in season, and the homemade Pappardelle with braised chicken was graced with liberal amounts of the delicate truffles.  The Fried Polenta Parmigiano and the piquant Insalata Misata [marinated Campari tomatoes, organic field greens, pecorino cheese, and balsamic vinaigrette] also enchanted our taste buds.

The Circo servers, Chris and Patrick, made much of Anjelia’s 21^st birthday:  Since we were running short on time prior to a show, they asked that we return post-show for her special dessert.  We sprinted back into the restaurant after ten p.m., and our new friends served her up Panacotta [vanilla panna cotta with seasonal fruits of strawberries and blueberries] on a lovely Circo plate with “Happy Birthday” written in chocolate across it.  Tiramisu Tradizionale and a cup of caffe latte rounded out our desserts as we watched the enchanting Lago di Bellagio Fountains from our same table.

Circo’s charming décor brings a smile to one’s face:  It is designed as a high-end European circus motif with a breath-taking big top on the ceiling.  Along with the fine wine and food, Circo, like Picasso, proved to be a Bellagio haunt to which we will return.

Caprese salad with imported fresh mozzarella at Circo -tangledpasta.net

D'Artagnan Air-Chilled Chicken

Where: legendary Le Cirque restaurant

What: Chef Olivier Reginensi’s perfectly roasted D’Artagnan Air-Chilled Chicken

How: Le Cirque is at 151 East 58th Street (between Lexington and Third Avenues) | click here for online reservations or call (212) 644-0202

Newly at the helm of the Le Cirque kitchen, Chef Reginensi and the Le Cirque team have just announced a series of pop-up restaurants in cities all over the country – so even if you don’t live in the NY area, you can still share in the Le Cirque experience and sample Olivier’s beautiful dishes. We hear the first stop will be Orlando in early March, with subsequent stops in Chicago, Orange County, Dallas, Houston, Palm Springs, San Diego, Los Angeles, Atlanta and San Jose. Each evening will recreate the experience found in the iconic Manhattan dining room—down to the smallest details.  STAY TUNED!

Dining out & spot some fabulous dishes made with D’Artagnan ingredients? Snap a pic & email with the details to alishah@dartagnan.com We’ll give you & the restaurant a shout out

These designers believe that dining out definitely shouldn’t make you feel like you’re staying in.

When queried about her favorite restaurant interiors, Wearstler cites the dining room at the perpetually trendy Hotel Costes in Paris as one of her favorites. Its designer, Jacques Garcia, is one of France’s hottest, yet is infamous for his perhaps overly flamboyant embellishments of contemporary interiors.

Indeed, in chic new restaurants the world over—from the nouveau-Baroque outlandishness of Restaurant Alchymist in Prague to the mod-meets-classical Hostaria dell’Orso in Rome to Philippe Starck’s sleekly opulent restaurant in the new Baccarat headquarters in Paris—designers are giving new context to modernism by connecting it with the past.

What this means for the design-minded epicure, of course, is that there has rarely been such a time of ideas and inspiration for the design of one’s own home dining space. Be a little minimal, be a little Baroque, just don’t ever, ever be boring.

Handsome Devil Comes to Canada

This is a photo of my dad, Bill Davison on board the S.S. Atlantic cruise ship en route from Southampton, England to Quebec City, Canada in 1953. This journey was to mark the beginning of his new life in Ontario, Canada. He would return to the UK on one occasion in 1977, but would never again see his home city of Belfast, Ireland.

I’ve been doing some research on this particular ship and it has proved quite fascinating. There is a fair bit of information on this cruise ship due largely to the fact that one of the waiters in the Fifties ended up as a well-reputed chef who owned and operated the famous restaurant “Le Cirque” in New York City. A website devoted to the history of ships has a section devoted to the proprietor, Sirio Maccioni and even includes a YouTube video of an Italian film that features the ship in its later incarnation as the S.S. Queen Frederica. It was really strange to watch the film clip and see the decks where my father once trod while making his way to Canada.

The S.S. Atlantic began life as the S.S. Malolo in 1926 , making trips mainly to the Hawaiian islands. In 1937 she was rebuilt and relaunched as the Matsonia, sailing between San Francisco and Honolulu until 1941. She was converted to a troop-ship and was set to head for the Phillipines, but the invasion of Pearl Harbor forced her to turn back. She was used primarily as a troop and weaponry carrier for the duration of the war and then was decomissioned in 1946, and it is estimated that she transported over 176,000 persons, troops, war brides and civilians.

S.S. Matsonia was eventually sold to the Mediterranean Line ( a Panamanian subsidiary of the Home Lines) and was renamed the S.S. Atlantic. She was refitted at Genoa, Italy, departed on May 14, 1949 for her maiden voyage to New York City via Naples and Barcelona. This would have been where the restaurateur came into the picture – signing on as a waiter in the early 50s.

The back of the photo of my father above indicates that his trip was in Mid-May, 1953. This ties in with the recorded information which states that the Atlantic ran voyages after 1952 between Southampton, England and Canada.

In January, 1955, the Atlantic was tranferred to the National Hellenic Line (out of Greece). Am I the only one who thinks these ships really got around? It was renamed S.S. Vasilissa Friederiki for Queen Frederica. Only the English name ever appeared on her bow.

Below is a link to a video I discovered on YouTube under “Queen Frederica”. Coincidentally, it was made the year that I was born. It is the family trip of John Sooklaris filmed in 1961. Amazing!

http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/AGbxDMZJn4g&hl=en_GB&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0×999999&border=1

This prestigious ship made many more cruise voyages until well into the 1970s, when she was towed to the breakers at Eleusis and ended in a much less-auspicious manner; she was ravaged by fire and her burnt out hull remained in the breakers yard for a number of years.

Please check in to the Sepia Saturday site for more fascinating photos and stories. Thanks!

Auckland, New Zealand

Copyright © May Georgina DeLory

Flash this:     Auckland, New Zealand is celebrating being ranked the top most livable city in the Southern Hemisphere in the Mercer 2011 Quality of Living Survey.  “As the gateway to New Zealand for Americans and Canadians, it’s also a great place for visitors to explore when they first get to New Zealand,” states Gregg Anderson, GM North America, Tourism New Zealand.    

International arrivals to Australia up 14% as of September 2012, information from CTC.

Devonport, New Zealand, known for seaside dining & Royal N.Z. Navy Base

We would fly Qantas Airline from Los Angeles to Auckland, New Zealand to join the ship in harbour at Princes Wharf. The Volendam would circumnavigate the North and South Islands of New Zealand to ports of call with exciting names such as Tauranga, Napier, Christchurch and Dunedin. We would cruise Fiordland National Park — part of the Te Wahipounamu (native Maori name) World Heritage Area — to see immense valleys sculpted by glaciers during multiple ice ages, get close to waterfalls, and cruise into one of the park’s longest Fjords, Milford Sound, and also visit Dusky Sound.

Two days at sea and we’d reach Tasmania, a south-eastern state of Australia. But first we would cross Bass Strait overnight to reach in the wee hours of the morning Australia, the world’s smallest continent in the Indian and Pacific Oceans. First stop would be the big city of Melbourne with its skyscrapers, location of some of the world’s top chefs, and harbour location. The next day we’d sail to Sydney, Australia before flying home.

On the Qantas flight to Auckland, we settled in for the eleven hour flight with complementary wine from some of Australia’s best known vineyards: Yering Station; Adelaide Hills and St. Hallett. If it hadn’t been for the fine wines, top flight service and excellent dinner served by Qantas, the long flight would have been an ordeal. My daughter chose Moroccan-styled roast chicken. I chose seared tuna with lime and pepper sauce.  While my daughter slept,  I watched half of the epic film “Australia” starring Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman. Kidman was born in Honolulu, Hawaii to Australian parents; and Jackman was born in Sydney, Australia. I had not seen the film and found the Qantas screen too small to capture the full scope of the film. I hoped the Volendam would show Australia in its Wajang Theatre so I could really appreciate the film on the wide screen. I wasn’t disappointed and watched it twice, once with my daughter.

Hunting for the illusive Koala bear in You Yangs Regional Park, Melbourne, Australia / Volendam shore excursion

HAL CATS performing live on the m. s. Volendam ship

Live stage performances on the m. s. Volendam ship

AUSTRALIA, 2008 epic historical romance film shown in the large screen Volendam movie theatre / Nicole Kidman, Hugh Jackman with David Wenham & Bryan Brown

New Zealand

We arrived to Auckland around 6 a.m. After we passed through Auckland airport customs we took a bus to port where the ship was in harbour. Once through port customs we went aboard the Volendam. It all went rather smoothly. Champagne and a fruit basket greeted us in our cabin. A large picture window covered the room in natural light. It was fun to watch the action on the pier through our window as people began to arrive to the ship. We wanted to tour the ship; but this wasn’t the time to take in the true beauty of the Volendam — effectively our home for the next two weeks. The Renaissance-era themed ship with fountains imported from Italy, valuable works of marine art and elaborate fresh floral arrangements throughout the spacious common rooms would have to wait.

Endless opportunities to view wildlife at You Yangs Regional Park (Melbourne, Australia)  and Wing’s Wildlife Retreat (Tasmania, Australia. See the Tasmanian Devil).

Endless opportunites to view wildlife at You Yangs Regional Park, Melbourne, Australia

Baby kangaroo inside pouch / Wing’s Wildlife Farm / Tasmania

Baby Wombat / Wings Wildlife Farm, Tasmania

The Volendam wouldn’t leave Auckland with her 1,351 guests until midnight. We made our way to the very top deck and enjoyed lunch in the Lido restaurant with views overlooking the city of Auckland and the harbour. Afterwards, we decided to take a look at the city. Once off the ship we took the harbour seabus (five minutes by ferry) to Devonport — a small town with heritage charm and signs of Maori settlement that date to the mid 1300s. Massive trees with thick trunk and roots spreading out from ground level line many Devonport streets.  The Common name is Moreton Bay Fig, an evergreen banyan tree of the Moraceae family that can grow to a height of 200 feet (60m).  Some of the most inspiring examples are to be found in Devonport.  We poked our heads into cafes, book stores, restaurants and gift shops. The area is well known for excellent pleasure sailing. After we took pictures of clusters of sailboats with colourful sails and then nipped down to the beach we headed back to the ferry for the mainland.

We would be at sea for the next two days. We’d eventually circle White Island, the site of an active marine volcano, and spend several hours at the site. Spencer Brown, Travel Guide, offered expert commentary over the outdoor loudspeaker as the ship silently turned this way and then that way for an up close and personal vantage point of the vapour-spewing volcano. Private tours are available to actually land at the base of the volcano…so check this out on your return trip to New Zealand.

Active volcano, Bay of Plenty, New Zealand – 49km off the coast of Whakatane

The ship is truly an engineering wonder. When in open sea, the top cruising speed is 18 knots. Environmental Officer Dolf Kramer, born and raised in the Netherlands, answered questions about how the ship preserves the environment. Long gone are the days when anything went overboard. Hotel Manager at sea, Robert Versteeg from Bithoven, Holland, and Cruise Director Rebecca, are just two of the “go-to” people on the Volendam if anything isn’t to your liking.

Over the course of our cruise, my daughter and I could be found involved in any number of exciting activities: the state-of-the-art Culinary Arts Center, sanctioned by Food & Wine magazine, where we learned the fine elements of creating an exotic martini, the history of coffee, or how to make Pannatone Tiramisu — a holiday tradition desert in Italy. There’s even a kid’s cookery program. We took part in many daily programs.There’s something magical about sailing the high seas and being able to take in at will so many exciting activities… a feature film, stage show, casino gaming, lectures, live culinary demonstrations with samples of course!, swimming or late night dining.

The Mount: Tauranga, NZ

Walking trail: The Mount. Tauranga, NZ

Tauranga, NZ / Fresh Oyster & Fish Shop

Travel Guide Spencer Brown gave a talk on the First Peoples of New Zealand followed by a live didgeridoo performance. We caught nightly live Broadway-style shows in the two-story Frans Hals Lounge. The Volendam Singers and Dancers packed the house each performance.  One evening I took in the Crow’s Nest disco to see if I could still shake a leg. I danced with a very handsome man for hours.

The gym and Greenhouse Spa offered ocean views and the best spot on the ship for total pampering of the soul. Another of the cruise highlights was the Indonesian Afternoon Tea ceremony each afternoon with Indonesian sweets and organic teas and coffees from the world’s finest plantations — all served in an elegant dining room with white tablecloth setting. Keeping in touch with the world and friends was a snap in the Explorations Internet Café and is where the iPod self-guided complementary art tour is arranged. Again, this large public area faces the ocean and is outfitted with computers, gourmet coffee cafe, books, magazines and many tables; it’s ideal for meeting up with friends. There is always an exciting choice to make for leisure activity during days at sea.

Tauranga, New Zealand…on my way to the “Mount” for a hike up the big hill where on the other side I would see surfers in the ocean.

Our first port of call was Tauranga, New Zealand, a land settled and still revered by the Maori native people. We took a shuttle bus into town. The weather was unbelievably enjoyable, bright and sunny without a beating-down-on-your-head sort of feel. We bought cotton shirts from one of the many shops and ate local oysters at a fresh seafood shack by the water where a seafood festival is held annually in November.  The oysters were big and plump and tasted of sweet milk. I’ve never tasted anything like it. The area is known for kiwi farms. We wanted to taste kiwi wine but couldn’t find it. We hiked the rest of the afternoon, unexpectedly finding ourselves on the other side of a small mountain — known locally as the “mount” —  and at the ocean amongst surfers. I found myself suddenly kicking up my heels at the edge of the surf while my daughter snapped photo after photo. Back on the Volendam we enjoyed snapper, lamb shank, garlic potatoes, more than one dessert, and a 2008 Reisling from New Zealand.  A fitting ending to a lovely day in February on the other side of the world.

Still cruising the South and North Islands of New Zealand, we stopped at the port of Napier, a community founded in 1856 by Sir Charles Napier, a British official in India. A lively musical band and antique automobiles greeted us at port. Cher took a stroll along a black sand beach in the morning while I myself toured some of the top vineyards of Hawke’s Bay: Mission Estate; Brookfield’s Vineyards; and Church Road Winery. The vineyards are so lovely an entire week in the area wouldn’t be too much. At Church Road Winery, founded in 1897, I ventured deep inside the original concrete wine vats that now offer an intriguing wine museum. Brookfields Vineyards conduct an excellent wine tasting.  A bottle of wine was given away for the correct answer to a question on wine. I didn’t win. Mission Estate Winery, founded in 1851, is a vast estate ideal for weddings, fine dining and wine tastings with a landscape that undulates in green waves all about. Mission hosts an annual concert on its generous grounds.  Sting with a 50-piece symphony orchestra and his band. February 12, 2011.

Spencer Brown, Holland America Line tour director, with his didgeridoo – a musical instrument created nearly 1500 years ago by indigenous Australians.

The city of Wellington with its pretty harbour and picturesque architecture saw my daughter and I on the Kelburn Cable Car in the centre of the city travelling up a steep hill to the Botanic Garden with Carter Observatory; it’s about a five-minute trip. As soon as we got off the cable car we headed in the direction of the cafe.  The cappuccino was delicious. Afterwards, we walked downhill among fragrant gardens. The Lady Norwood Rose Garden was spectacular. If you walk all the way to ground level, you don’t come out beside the cable car entrance — so be careful. Best to take a different route  through the gardens and walk back uphill where you’ll be able to board the cable car back down to ground level. You are in the downtown area with elegant department stores with all the best gourmet food products and fashion.  There are countless shore excursions from which to choose, including one to where the film “Lord of the Rings” was filmed. Holland America Line shore offerings are so vast we had a difficult time choosing before the cruise.  Once on the ship there is the opportunity to change your mind and sign up for another shore excursion; but you take the chance of the tour already being sold out. Best to arrange your shore excursions before the cruise; the organization takes a bit of time for the novice but worth the effort.

In Picton, originally called Waitohia, at the head of Queen Charlotte Sound, we were presented with a tiny nosegay of fragrant Old-fashioned roses when we got off the ship. The still floating hull of what is believed to be the ninth oldest ship in the world is that of the East Indian Edwin Fox. See it near the museum and the ferry wharf.

We enjoyed a private lunch of unbelievably delicious-tasing and locally caught river salmon at Barewood Garden   www.barewoodgarden.co.nz after touring Yealands Estate Winery http://www.yealands.com/ .  Barewood Garden has the most darling garden shed/gift shop where truly unique items for the gardener in you may be purchased.  Yealands estate is located 25 kilometres south of Blenheim, in the Awatere Valley and is the single largest vineyard in the country under private ownership. Peter Yealands is a local fellow who looks very much like a charming character straight out of a period swashbuckling Hollywood film — gray beard and hair in somewhat need of a trim; but highly knowledgeable when it comes to wine and the environment.

Yealands Estate is currently undertaking Carbon Neutral certification and keeps to a minimum the use of chemicals. Green technology allows for the saving of energy. Peter gave us a tour of the vineyard which overlooks Clifford Bay…so lovely a place this is I found myself longing to live here forever. The development of wetland areas on the vineyard has resulted in the regeneration of native flora and fauna. Here you’ll find a home to species such as the Black Swan, the rare Teal Duck, White Herron, and the endangered “Muritai” tree.

Wing’s Wildlife Park, Tasmania (Island), Australia

Stalactites at Gunns Plains Cave: Tasmania, Australia

We returned to the ship for a light lunch and then our shore excursion took us by bus to Gunns Plains Cave  http://www.gunnsplainscaves.com.au/  , about an hour’s drive from Burnie, in Leven Canyon. We drove past lush vegetation where huge ferns seemed out of a prehistoric era gone berserk. Named after famed botanist and Tasmania explorer Ronald Campbell Gunn, the Cave opened in 1909. The air is fresh even though the walkways are a touch damp. The limestone cave opening leads to a steep flight of 54 cement steps. There were many people sixty and over. No one had difficulty navigating the steps.  The largest “ribbon” stalactite in the world is found here as well as stalagmites and flowstone suspended from the vaulted ceiling. When the lights were turned out momentarily, glow worms dotted the black space far above our heads like so many stars in the night sky.  Of course what we saw as our eyes adjusted to the near black environment was not a worm at all. You’ll have to visit for yourself to find out what it is all about. You will not be disappointed. The underworld is a fascinating place.

Wing’s Wildlife Park / Tasmanian Devil

Wing’s Wildlife Park (Tasmania), Gunns Plains  is a three-generation operation thatoffers the opportunity to see endangered animals, such as the almost extinct Tasmanian Devil. Male Devils ( carnivorous  marsupial / eat meat) weigh up to 12 kg (26 lb) and mate in March.   Koalas resemble the Wombat and weight up to 12 kg (26 lb) with females around 8.5 kg (19 lb.).  Wing’s expert handlers can identify the devils at the park by their markings and develop a personal relationship with the Koalas.  Mr. Wing and staff look after his animals as if personal pets…and only the best of treatment is given at the sanctuary.  There is an extensive selection of animal exhibits with aquatic fish, water birds, birds of prey, reptile, rodents such as the Black Rat, as well as the Grey Forrester Kangaroo and Wallaby and many large animals imported from around the world.  Wing’s is on the Leven River.  Overnight accommodation is available at Wing’s with six luxury cabins, a campground area and for the budget wise backpacker units with electricity, heater, refrigerator and stovette. Group, private and school tours  for two to two-hundred people are available.  Thursday evenings at 7:30 pm there are nocturnal tours to see what the animals are up to.

The Volendam’s Greenhouse Spa and Salon continued to beckon with ocean views, intimate outdoor terrace with lounge chairs, steam rooms, hot tub, exercise facility and best of all heated ceramic lounge beds. If you’ve a tight knot in the neck, or stiff joints after a lot of walking, this is the place to just relax and watch the ocean pass you by in all its blue splendour. The ms Volendam has two pools on the Lido deck — one salt water (excellent for preserving and increasing the quality of skin) and open to the elements, and one beneath a covered dome revealing natural light. One day while my daughter enjoyed a spa treatment I stretched out like a lazy cat over the smooth wood trim surrounding the outside pool. Blue skies above, warm breezes and best of all, due to a sudden high wind, the gentle rocking of the ship lulled me to near sleep. Other times from various decks I watched the shy Albatross with a wingspan of over two metres gliding above the southern oceans following the Volendam.

Melbourne is the second largest city in Australia with a population around 3.5 million and the capital of Victoria. About 150 languages are spoken. Lively shops and restaurants line the harbour where the Volendam docked. Friends we made on the Volendam  raved about the afternoon spent at Number 8 restaurant and wine bar in the Crown Hotel on the waterfront. Three course meals as well as oysters and Mumm Cordon RougeNV Brut  Champagne are available.  Gordon Ramsay is opening maze and maze Grill in March 2010 at the Crown Melbourne Metropol’s third tower, his first dining establishment in Australia.  http://www.newzealand.com/ca

Christchurch, NZ

You Yangs / Melbourne, Australia

Taieri Gorge Rail Line, NZ

At Melbourne we took a morning shore excursion into the country to see wildlife — Kangaroos, Koalas and the protected Black-tailed Wallaby in You Yangs Regional Park http://parkweb.vic.gov.au  ; but not before we were treated to afternoon tea beneath a huge canvas tent. In the afternoon on our way back from a tour of downtown Melbourne on foot and on historic rattling trolley ($3.70 each for 2-hours) we sat on a bench at the harbour and simply gazed out to sea and understood perfectly the many accounts of how friendly the people in this area are.

We’d heard about the Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb  http://www.bridgeclimb.com/ — one of the world’s preeminent engineering marvels — over 1500 metres of steel; but we didn’t have the four hours’ suggested to complete the climb. You can do this climb by day or by night. We can only imagine what the sensation would feel like to be atop Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Blue Mountains in the distance with the city at our feet.

P.S. We are so fortunate to have spent an entire day in Christchurch, New Zealand before the major earthquake of recent (September 2010).  We loved our tour of The Anglican cathedral of Christchurch in the city of Christchurch in city square that took so much damage.  The botanic gardens are but a ten-minute stroll from the cathedral.  The punt tours at the botanic gardens on the Avon River are a must-do! So peaceful. The m.s. Volendam ship shuttle bus dropped passengers off in Christchurch across from the cathedral. It was all so enjoyable and well thought out by Holland America.

Wine event.  Happens only every three-years!  Next up is 2013,  28th to 31st January, in Wellington.  CEO Philip Gregan says Pinot Noir NZ is a springboard for overseas visitors to experience the whole of the New Zealand wine story as they often continue their New Zealand trip to absorb other regions and grape varieties.

One Million Cases of New Zealand Pinot Noir

New Zealand is now exporting well over one million cases of Pinot Noir a year.

No surprise considering UK wine writer Jamie Goode’s recent comments that within 10 years New Zealand could be known for making the world’s consistently best Pinot Noir & Syrah.

“That is 14 million impressions of New Zealand found in some of the most desirable locations around the world” said NZ Winegrowers CEO Philip Gregan. “These wines come from at least six of the most diverse and interesting agricultural regions in our country.”

And those regions, represented by over 110 wineries, will be together in Wellington for NZ’s leading international wine event…. Pinot Noir NZ 2013.   Registrations can be made here: www.pinotnz.co.nz/tickets        For more information visit www.pinotnz.co.nz

For more information visit http://www.pinotnz.co.nz or you can follow @PinotNoirNZ on Twitter or Pinot NZ on Facebook.

FYI

www.hollandamerica.com

http://www.aircanada.com

http://www.qantas.com

http://www.newzealand.com

www.wingswildlife.com.au

iPod Art Tour of m.s. Volendam ship.  Arrangements made at the Explorations Cafe (library), Upper Promenade Deck. Tour approximately 40-minutes.

Taieri Gorge Railway (yellow train) shore excursion. There is the opportunity to purchase unique gift items during a train stop. I purchased honey and jewellery I found no where else.

Elijah Wood returns  to The Hobbit, a two-part film to  release in December 2012. The second part will premiere in December 2013.   The Lord of the Rings was filmed in New Zealand. The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey - showcase real destinations in New Zealand in which you can visit and tour:  Waikato and Central Plateau in the North Island, and Nelson Tasman, Mt Cook Mackenzie, Central Otago, Queenstown and Wanaka in the South Island. The Hobbit world première is in Wellington, New Zealand on 29 November, 2012.  Note: up to 100,000 fans lined the red carpet in Courtenay Place as the stars and guests of The Hobbit crossed the 500 metres between the Embassy Theatre and the Reading Cinema Complex for the première.

Why you should see New Zealand   http://youtu.be/64qx95Ckrwc

http://www.iloveolivenz.com/

http://youtu.be/64qx95Ckrwc  New Zealand is for dreamers!

Le Cirque experience in the Pinnacle Grill on Holland America Line.  Sirio Maccioni, founder of Le Cirque and one of the world’s finest dining establishments, shares his personal style with Holland America Line guests.  Master Chef Rudi Sodamin (Holland America Line) along with Le Cirque’s Executive Chef Craig Hopson on special evenings transform the Pinnacle Grill into a Le Cirque-like atmosphere for “An Evening at Le Cirque”.   Jacqueline Lee Bouvier Kennedy was especially fond of Le Cirque.   Special Le Cirque on-board demonstrations and cookery lessons in the Culinary Arts Center on Holland America Line.     “Sirio: The Story of My Life & Le Cirque”  by Sirio Maccioni.

Maori Culture

Māori are the tangata whenua (indigenous people of the land) of New Zealand and their culture is an integral part of New Zealand life. About 15% of the country’s population of 3.8 million is of Māori descent. Māori are a tribal people and their tribes are known as iwi. Visitors to New Zealand are presented with many opportunities to experience Māori culture first-hand. Best known of these is the geo-thermal region of Rotorua in the North Island, where tourists can enjoy Māori kai (food) cooked on hot stones underground as part of a traditional hangi. They can also enjoy a Māori powhiri (welcome), visit local marae (meeting houses), listen to kapa haka (traditional performances of song and dance) and relax in the popular thermal pools. Māori culture forms the basis of New Zealand culture and is the essence of its society.

Wellington was recently (November 2012) the location of The Hobbit world premiere. www.youtu.be/q3eeG-jywoc   The Hobbit: an unexpected journey open December 14, 2012.    The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug opens December 13, 2013; the final chapter of this trilogy, The Hobbit: There and Back Again, opensJuly 18, 2014.

Photo credits and text copyright © by May Georgina DeLory

Copyright © May DeLory. All rights reserved.  For use of images or content on this blog please contact May DeLory.

Last week, I couldn’t have been any prouder. There we were, celebrating Cory Aquino, who’s moral compass showed us and the world that prayers and flowers can face tanks and fully armed military men and topple a dictator. It was called People Power. A few years after that, other countries followed suit, using this peaceful uprising called People Power to bring change.

Today, I feel a bit embarrassed (and outraged). And it’s all because of Gloria Macapagal Arroyo Ayoko. I’ll admit it, I voted her. She was different then. Now, I can’t even say anything “nice” or “clean” about her. It even feels weird (offensive?) saying, nay writing, her name and the words “nice” and/or “clean” all in the same sentence.

As we all know, she went to the US. Then, Cory died. So she and her entourage went to Le Cirque to have a simple dinner. No big deal, right? Except this restaurant is the watering hole for the rich and famous, and that their dinner costs US$20,000, or roughly Php950,000.

No matter how unpopular or corrupt a president might be, when she goes out on a foreign trip, she carries the colors of her country, much like a national sports team marching with pride with its country’s colors on the opening day of the Olympics.

-The Manila Mail

With the world in financial trouble, and with millions of hungry fellow Filipinos mourning the death of a beloved former president, as a public official, the head of the state no less, that was very inappropriate. I expected even a bit of delicadeza.

(Photo Source)

The rapacious little Ayoko must be very proud of herself. She even made it to the New York Post’s Page Six.

That money could have helped so many people. What were you thinking?! What would the great Diosdado Macapagal say? Tsk! Tsk!

And here’s something that’ll kick you in the nuts. Sen. Lito Lapid said he might as well have stayed home. With no photo op with US President Obama, he apparently found the service terrible and was not impressed.

Le sue quattro vetrine affacciano su una sala da poco ristrutturata con gusto classico. Sotto vetro, a temperatura e umidità diverse a seconda della tipologia dei prodotti, un grande assortimento di pasticceria tradizionale, dolci di concezione moderna e pasticceria salata. Di mattina, accanto al bancone bar, potete trovare ventidue tipi di prodotti da colazione; durante tutta la giornata, nell’apposita rastrelliera, tavolette di cioccolato in purezza di diciassette diverse provenienze, e poi marmellate dai gusti originali, come fragole e basilico. Naturalmente la pasticceria Giovanni Pina produce anche un ottimo panettone, che ho avuto modo di assaggiare durante la scorsa edizione di Re Panettone. È il motivo principale per cui sono qui, ma siccome Gianni Pina – quarantasette anni per un metro e ottantacinque di simpatia trascinante e energia instancabile – svolge anche un ruolo istituzionale, l’intervista sarà anche un’occasione per parlare d’altro.

Cominciamo dalla fondazione.

«Sin dal 1920, anno in cui mio nonno Giovanni ha fondato l’attività, la nostra produzione è stata orientata alla qualità e alla freschezza degli ingredienti. Allora andavano forte la confetteria e la biscotteria. A proposito di biscotti, nel 1924 mio nonno conquistò una medaglia d’oro al gran premio di pasticceria di Roma con Igea, fetta biscottata morbida con poco zucchero, quindi sempre attuale. A quei tempi rifornivamo anche altri punti vendita. Negli anni Sessanta furono Mario, mio padre, e Giovanni, mio zio, a portare l’esercizio a una dimensione d’importanza regionale. Nel 1998 il testimone è passato ad Anita, mia cugina, a Lucia, mia sorella, e a me. Mentre Anita si occupa di confezione e Lucia di amministrazione, sono io a dirigere il laboratorio, che conta su tredici operatori e lavora unicamente per il nostro punto vendita».

A dirla tutta, lei non dirige solo il suo laboratorio: presiede anche l’Accademia dei Maestri Pasticcieri Italiani, associazione che raccoglie poco più di cinquanta super-professionisti di tutt’Italia. Ha tutte le mie congratulazioni, perché all’interno di questa compagine così prestigiosa e così competitiva non si viene eletto presidente per tre volte di seguito, di cui l’ultima per acclamazione, senza ottimi motivi. Come si è formato il ‘tre volte presidente’ dell’AMPI?

«Quando ero bambino vedevo mio padre affannarsi dietro il suo lavoro. Pensavo che non avrei mai seguito le sue orme. Mi piaceva studiare. Per questo dopo le medie ho frequentato il liceo scientifico e poi mi sono iscritto alla facoltà di medicina a Milano. La materia m’interessava molto, ma il primo campanello d’allarme suonò quando fui costretto, come tanti altri compagni di corso, ad essere presente un giorno e una notte di seguito in via Celoria, per un appello universitario. Altri malesseri nascevano dalla constatazione che, per ottenere certi risultati, era obbligatorio fare la corte ai professori. Allora ho cominciato a riconsiderare tutto. L’anno sabbatico del militare ha fatto il resto. Al ritorno ero pronto per cominciare a lavorare in pasticceria. E a chi mi diceva “vuoi perdere tutti i tuoi studi?”, rispondevo che non avrei perso nulla. Così è stato. Ho cominciato dal lavandino, la postazione più umile, e poi sono passato via via a tutte le altre, per capire bene ogni aspetto del lavoro. Per anni è stata una full immersion stereofonica: mio padre da una parte, mio zio dall’altra. E poi è arrivato il momento in cui mi hanno detto che non avevano più nulla da insegnarmi. Sono cominciati gli anni delle specializzazioni all’estero. Spagna, Francia, Belgio, Svizzera, Stati Uniti. A New York ho lavorato nel laboratorio di pasticceria del ristorante Le Cirque di Sirio Maccioni, un posto dove poteva tranquillamente capitarti di incontrare Raquel Welch. Camminavo tra le nuvole. Poi sono tornato, e ho conosciuto Iginio Massari. Lui è stato il mio Virgilio. Speriamo che io diventi Dante».

So che ha vinto il campionato europeo di Pasticceria.

«Era il 1994, a Stoccarda. È stata una trasferta doppiamente fortunata: lì ho incontrato anche la mia futura moglie, che ha vinto l’oro per il miglior Negroni (pre-dinner). All’epoca gestiva insieme al fratello Dario Comini il Nottingham Forest, cocktail bar di Milano, ma ora lei si occupa delle nostre tre figlie».

In che modo tutte queste esperienze hanno modificato l’offerta della pasticceria Pina?

«Il nostro nuovo motto è “La qualità di sempre in una nuova veste”. La scommessa è stata quella di mantenere i prodotti classici fedeli ai loro modelli, salvo qualche piccolo ritocco in meglio. E aggiungere alla pasticceria della tradizione quella moderna. Un esempio di quest’ultima è l’introduzione delle mousse. Nella zona sono stato il primo a introdurle. Ne ho creata una ai marroni e allo zenzero che riscuote molto successo».

Mi sembra che la sua cifra personale, in questo contesto familiare già così legato alla qualità e all’amore per il lavoro ben fatto, consista nell’approccio ancora più “scientifico”, nel costante desiderio di sperimentare e in una sana competitività con i più brillanti fra i suoi colleghi.

«Quanto all’approccio scientifico, in laboratorio non mancano né i piaccametri, né altri strumenti di misura: quando non basta l’occhio, ci affidiamo alla scienza. Come le dicevo, non ho buttato alle ortiche la mia formazione. Sulla voglia di inventare e di confrontarmi con i migliori, le posso dire che il 16 giugno ho avuto la visita degli ispettori dei ‘Relais Dessert’».

Quella dei ‘Relais Dessert’ – lo scrivo a beneficio di chi non lo sapesse – è un’organizzazione internazionale (ma, guarda caso, di matrice francese), che raccoglie i cento migliori pasticcieri del mondo. Agli italiani sono riservati quattro posti. Gli altri tre sono occupati dal grandissimo e già citato Massari di Brescia, da Biasetto, padovano, e Mannori, di Prato, già campioni del mondo.

«Negozio e laboratorio hanno superato brillantemente l’esame, quello più importante: è stata la giornata più lunga della mia vita. Il 19 settembre dovrò tenere una dimostrazione all’Ecole Nationale Supérieure de la Pâtisserie di Yssengeaux, così dal 20 settembre dovrei rientrarvi a pieno titolo».

Avendo davanti a me il presidente dell’AMPI, volevo dirle che è bello, in quest’Italia così poco solidale, che l’Accademia svolga una funzione unificatrice tra Nord, Centro e Sud.

«È vero. Ho lottato affinché le vere discriminanti per essere accolti nell’Accademia fossero la passione per la qualità e il desiderio di migliorarsi, che sono presenti (o assenti) a Nord come a Sud. Posto questo credo comune, la nostra associazione da una parte esalta le differenze, il tipico, il locale, dall’altra, siccome il clima interno è di amicizia e stima, i soci sono indotti allo scambio di esperienze e alla contaminazione, con grandi risultati. Mi è capitato, per esempio, di prendere spunto da Sal De Riso, campano, o da Santi Palazzolo, siciliano, per creare ricette mie».

A proposito della diffusione dell’AMPI, perché secondo lei non ne fanno parte pasticcieri di grandi città come Milano, Roma o Firenze?

«Nei piccoli centri c’è un incentivo in più per scegliere la qualità: chi ha il coraggio di investirvi, di solito viene premiato dall’incremento della clientela. Nelle grandi città, dove c’è grande movimento, le dinamiche sono diverse. Le faccio un esempio. Tempo fa ero a Roma, a colloquio con un noto pasticciere non iscritto, decantandogli tutti i vantaggi dell’associazione. Alla fine del mio discorso erano le dieci del mattino. Sa quanti scontrini aveva battuto il suo registratore di cassa? Più di millecento. Davanti a fenomeni come questo, perché uno dovrebbe cominciare a usare solo ingredienti nobili come il burro al posto della margarina? Avere negozi e laboratori sempre all’altezza? Prendersi la briga di partecipare a due simposi all’anno? E soprattutto, perché uno dovrebbe accettare critiche precise e circostanziate da colleghi? In ultima analisi entrare nell’AMPI significa mettere da parte l’egocentrismo e la presunta infallibilità tipici di noi operatori del settore alimentare ed essere disposti a metterci in discussione».

Due parole sul prossimo libro che ha in cantiere.

«L’editore Giunti lo stamperà in ottobre. Titolo: La mia pasticceria per te. Conterrà oltre 500 ricette e consigli per professionisti e amanti della pasticceria. L’anteprima, diffusa come allegato del Sole 24 Ore, è andata a ruba».

Veniamo finalmente al suo ottimo panettone.

«Per quanto riguarda i classici, sono un codino. Per me il panettone è panettone. A tappo di champagne, come lo faceva mio padre. Quando ho ordinato i nuovi forni, li ho fatti disegnare apposta più alti. Gli ingredienti sono i tradizionali, oltre a farina, burro, tuorli d’uovo e zucchero, lievito naturale, canditi di scorza d’arancia e cedro, uvetta. Naturalmente tutto della massima qualità. Farine dei Molini Riuniti Besozzi, burro Deutsche Markenbutter, canditi Agrimontana, uvetta australiana 5 corone, tuorli d’uova pastorizzati in pasta gialla, di galline alimentate con betacarotene, perché anche l’occhio vuole la sua parte».

E il lievito?

«Con il lievito mi piace molto lavorare. Mia moglie sostiene che tengo più al lievito che alle figlie. È il mio Tamagochi. Proprio di recente una stagista è andata via di qui con la sua madre; l’ho aiutata a crearla con buccia e polpa di mela e acqua. Il ceppo che utilizziamo risale ai tempi di mio nonno. Lo teniamo attivo tutto l’anno per brioche ed altri lievitati. Dopo il giorno dei Morti andiamo sui tre rinfreschi al giorno, in modo da poter contare su un ciclo di trentasei ore dal primo rinfresco alla cottura».

Quando lo produce?

«Faccio le veneziane tutto l’anno. Comincio con il panettone a metà ottobre, ma la produzione più intensiva è tra metà novembre e Natale. Il tempo di conservazione che gli dò sono quattro settimane. Per l’esattezza il picco organolettico va dal terzo al ventunesimo giorno; dal ventunesimo fino al ventottesimo comincia a decrescere gradatamente e poi dopo scende più rapidamente».

Quanto ne produce all’anno?

«Circa 90 quintali. Nel mese prima di Natale facciamo tre, quattro impasti al giorno, per 600 chili. Li vendo soprattutto in zona, ma ho avuto ordini da Tokio, dal Libano, da Israele. Ultimamente ha avuto un grande sviluppo anche il pandoro. “Non sembra un pandoro”, dicevano. Certo: non somigliava a quello industriale. Però dev’essere piaciuto, a giudicare dal successo. D’altronde al meglio ci si abitua sempre».

Le pezzature?

«Dalla merendina di 80 grammi al panettone da 5 chili. Trovo, però, che i risultati migliori si ottengano con quelli da 1 chilo, che permettono il rapporto ottimale tra temperatura e durata della cottura».

La mia visita si conclude con una passeggiata – è il caso di dirlo – nel grandissimo laboratorio, diviso in zona confezione, zona impasti, camera di lievitazione, zona forno, zona cottura, cioccolateria, magazzino. Alla conservazione provvedono l’abbattitore e refrigeratori a varie temperature. Lasciando la pasticceria dopo un caloroso saluto a Gianni Pina e alla cugina Anita, ripenso ai cannoncini, alle tarlellette alla frutta, ai bigné e forse soprattutto alla pasticceria salata piluccati durante l’intervista. E mi dico che i novemila abitanti di Trescore Balneario hanno una bella fortuna ad avere tutto ciò a portata di mano.

I was catching up on HBO’s Big Love to remind myself about what happened last season, when I caught the trailer for a new documentary called Le Cirque: A Table in Heaven. 

Well, you know I was excited to watch it — and it didn’t disappoint (althought it is a little too long).  Without going over too much about the show, you watch Le Cirque founder Sirio Maccioni and his family re-open Le Cirque. 

First, the documentary gives you an overview of Maccioni and how he became a very well-known NY maitre d’.  You see the celebrities, political figures, and other famous people eating in his restaurant. 

Then you learn that the restaurant has to move due to a leasing issue.  There was an option between two locations and Maccionidecides to go with the Bloomberg Building on 58th between Lexington and 3rd. 

The documentary takes you through the building and development of the restaurant, menu, atmosphere, attire, etc. 

And then, Frank Bruni, the New York Times restaurant critic enters the picture. 

I won’t spoil the ending (in case you don’t know it already).  But suffice to say, it was entertaining.  I found myself at times irritated with all the characters (except Egidiana, his wife) and other times rooting for the Maccioni family.  I also found I was drooling at the pictures of the food.  And when the review by Bruni came out, well…

Overall, I definitely recommend catching this documentary if you love food and are interested in the restaurant business.  For those who have never been in the restaurant business, it is eye-opening.  For those who have been, you already know the story.  And if you are thinking of opening up a restaurant, this may change your mind. 

 Have you seen it?  What did you think of the show?

With the help of award-winning Bloomberg restaurant critic Peter Elliot, Maccioni recounts the story of his life and his restaurant career. Beginning with his childhood in rural Tuscany during World War II and the tragedies and privations that left him determined to pursue success at the world’s finest restaurants, he shares a journey that took him to post-war Paris and Hamburg and the nightlife of pre-Castro Cuba and finally to New York.

By 1961, the dashing young Maccioni had become maitre d’ at New York’s most storied restaurant, the Colony. Within thirteen years, he had the experience and contacts he needed to launch his own restaurant, Le Cirque, which quickly became the hub of cafe society in New York.

From hiring the right chefs and revolutionizing the way top restaurants operate to popularizing now-famous dishes such as pasta primavera and creme brulee, Maccioni reveals how he made Le Cirque such a long-running success – a success that reached new heights when the restaurant moved to a new location in 1997. Along the way, Maccioni explains how he’s dealt with defecting chefs and demanding customers. And through it all, he pays tribute to his proud Tuscan roots and to his wife and their three sons, who operate the family’s other New York restaurant, Osteria del Circo, as well as restaurants in Las Vegas and Mexico City.

Like Maccioni himself, Sirio is full of passion, energy, and life – the unforgettable story of the world’s most extraordinary restaurateur.

Sirio: The Story of My Life and Le Cirque is available at Amazon for $16.47. To Order click here
Amazon Product Pages contain a lot of other details on this product as Customer Reviews, Sales Ranking, Special Offers, Alternate products that customers are going for and much more.Want to read these details? click here

Want to get some other Format / Binding / Version? You can search for them from here

Other Products of Interest

• The Perfectionist
• Setting the Table
• Service Included
• Insatiable
• Heat: An Amateur Cook in a Professional Kitchen

The charmingly bumptious “Le Cirque: A Table in Heaven,” which premieres tonight on HBO, is an Italian American family comedy in the form of a documentary about a restaurant — not your typical checked-tablecloth, candle-in-the-wine-bottle pasta and pizza place, either, but a formidable (and French-leaning) institution among the Manhattan upper crust for more than three decades. Director Andrew Rossi follows founder Sirio Maccioni, his wife Egidiana and their three sons — Mario, Marco and Mauro — as they close the second Le Cirque and open the third.

Sirio, now 76, began his life in restaurants at age 13 in the hotel-rich Italian town of Montecatini. He arrived in New York as a waiter on an ocean liner, and after becoming famous as the maitre d’ at the legendary Colony on the eve of the beginning of its decline, opened the first Le Cirque in the lower reaches of the Upper East Side in 1974. It was the power place of its time — Nixon, Reagan, Helen Gurley Brown — though its time inevitably passed.
 
The second, called Le Cirque 2000, carried the ball from 1996 to 2004, but the way things were arranged there it became hard to make a profit even selling Henry Kissinger expensive appetizers. (I don’t know what else you could do with a restaurant called Le Cirque 2000 in the year 2004 except close it.) Yet even as those doors were shut, plans were being laid for the next incarnation, which opened in 2006 in the fancy Bloomberg Building.

“I have been working in restaurants all my life” are the first words we hear Sirio say, his Italian accent still formidable after half a century in America. “But I hate this business. In the morning, I wake up. My wife put some ice on my head. I have an espresso. And she push me out of the door.”

He comes off as nervous and exasperated, but in a forceful way that cements his position. He denigrates himself and the work he does — a restaurateur is “a presumptuous waiter,” he tells Charlie Rose in 2004 — even as he aggressively promotes and defends his old-fashioned, jacket-and-tie view of that world.

Of his own sons, he says, “Not only do they have the misfortune to have a father that run a restaurant, but they were stupid enough to follow me into the business.” This is doubly so in that they are in the business with their father — and with one another — which leads to “Lear”-like complication and competition. (“The Godfather” is the family comparison preferred by Mauro, who complains that as the youngest son his family thinks he doesn’t know what he’s talking about: “But maybe with a little more screaming and yelling I make myself heard.”)

Emotions run high; arguments jump from English to Italian and back, and back again. The kids want growth and innovation and things to please the “young people”; dad wants a place where the people he’s been serving for years — Tony Bennett, Donald Trump, Bill Cosby, Joan Collins — will feel happy, and be assured of a nice salad, a prosciutto and melon and a strict dress code. Mom tries to calm the waters, cooks spaghetti and feeds it to her brood. Everyone waits to see how many stars the New York Times will award them.

Although life as a Maccioni must be fairly stressful, sharp-eyed director Rossi keeps his tone buoyant, affectionate and amused. It’s a lovely little film.

   It’s a rare film about haute cuisine that manages to come down to Earth and stir deep emotions, too; Big Night is an easy exception, but there are many more misses than hits in the ouevre. And great documentaries about food are rarer still. So I was pleased to see the excellent documentary LE CIRQUE: A TABLE IN HEAVEN on the schedule for HBO on Monday, December 29th. This is a great one to watch at home over Christmas break, and you’ll want a good bottle of red wine to go with it.

Completed in 2006, the film, which debuted at IFC’s Stranger Than Fiction series in April of 2007, documents the rise-and-fall-and-rise-again of restaurateur Sirio Maccioni and his famed eatery, Le Cirque, once the most celebrated restaurant in New York. Catering to celebrities, Presidents, and, famously—thanks to Sirio’s legendary hospitality—seemingly anyone who walked in the door, Le Cirque became a symbol of the good life, dreams achieved, abbondanza.

The film opens with scenes of Le Cirque 2000′s heyday at the Palace, when Henry Kissinger was a regular, and jumps to its closing in 2004, beset by the cold financial realities of Post 9/11 New York. Much of the rest of the film depicts the fraught lead up to its glittery reopening 2006, on East 58th street, and the internecine conflicts among Maccioni and his three sons that tear at the very fabric of the family. And then there’s the bruising two-star review from Frank Bruni after the party’s over, since upgraded.

“As his sons prepare to assume leadership of a revamped Le Cirque,” the IFC premiere night notes read, “the two generations battle over the relative merits of catering to celebrities, spotlighting a cutting-edge chef, and always including prosciutto with melon on the menu. An extraordinary exploration of a family business caught in the world’s spotlight.”

Ultimately, for me, A TABLE IN HEAVEN resonates as a study of one family and its paterfamilias, the charming, implacable Sirio. As the larger-than-life headwaiter turned toast of the New York dining scene confronts his own sons and a changing industry, Director Andrew Rossi and producer Charles Marquardt (both veterans of 2004′s celebrated CONTROL ROOM) never veer into schmaltz, but instead unfold the tale with grace befitting their subject, especially scenes shot in Maccioni’s homeland, in Tuscany. Highly recommended.

Molto Sirio

It’s a rare film about haute cuisine that manages to come down to Earth and stir deep emotions, too; Big Night is an easy exception, but there are many more misses than hits in the ouevre. And great documentaries about food are rarer still. So I was pleased to see the excellent documentary LE CIRQUE: A TABLE IN HEAVEN on the schedule for HBO on Monday, December 29th. Completed in 2006, the film, which debuted at IFC’s Stranger Than Fiction series in April of 2007, documents the rise-and-fall-and-rise-again of restaurateur Sirio Maccioni and his famed eatery, Le Cirque, once the most celebrated restaurant in New York. Catering to celebrities, Presidents, and, famously—thanks to Sirio’s legendary hospitality—seemingly anyone who walked in the door, Le Cirque became a symbol of the good life, dreams achieved, abbondanza.

The film opens with scenes of Le Cirque 2000′s heyday at the Palace, when Henry Kissinger was a regular, and jumps to its closing in 2004, beset by the cold financial realities of Post 9/11 New York. Much of the rest of the film depicts the fraught lead up to its glittery reopening 2006, on East 58th street, and the internecine conflicts among Maccioni and his three sons that tear at the very fabric of the family. And then there’s the bruising two-star review from Frank Bruni after the party’s over.

 ”As his sons prepare to assume leadership of a revamped Le Cirque,” the IFC premiere night notes read, “the two generations battle over the relative merits of catering to celebrities, spotlighting a cutting-edge chef, and always including prosciutto with melon on the menu. An extraordinary exploration of a family business caught in the world’s spotlight.”  

Ultimately, for me, A TABLE IN HEAVEN resonates as a study of one family and its paterfamilias, the charming, implacable Sirio. As the larger-than-life headwaiter turned toast of the New York dining scene confronts his own sons and a changing industry, Director Andrew Rossi and producer Charles Marquardt (both veterans of 2004′s celebrated CONTROL ROOM) never veer into schmaltz, but instead unfold the tale with grace befitting their subject, especially scenes shot in Maccioni’s homeland, in Tuscany. Highly recommended.

“I can tell you one thing,” said Mr. Maccioni. “For me, a world without women would be impossible. But also I’ve never been stupid. I respect myself and I respect my wife and I respect my children. When we were at the other restaurant on 65th Street, we had the most beautiful women in the world. You know what was my satisfaction? I’d say, ‘Yes, you’re attractive, I’m sorry I cannot go with you.’ As a joke, that was for fun. It’s all mental what you do. I knew that I could have done, I know that I could do.”

I could smell the animal on him. I asked my new hero what his favorite sex act was?

“I like all of them,” he said, his leonine head inclining toward me. “I have done it all. I have done it all in the right way and most of all, always with beautiful woman—beginning with my wife.”

“No, no, no,” interrupted Mr. Maccioni’s biographer, Peter Elliot, who was standing nearby. “Ending with your wife.”

It was that kind of night. What was I doing there, anyway? I had, like, five bucks to my name, and here I was, at a fancy restaurant, when, to me, food just means Burrrrp! Pffffft! Plop! Flush! But sex still works when I can get it (twice a month max, thanks to the economy).

Well, I was just doin’ my job. The whiskey was sloshing inside but I was still nervous approaching socialite Debbie Bancroft, whom I’ve always wanted to spoon. I wagered a question: We all know New York men have gone flaccid; how can New York City women get these men back to old-school boning?

“I think if the women were less selfish, and less involved in things they can acquire, they might actually pay more attention to the man they’re with,” she said. “So this may all just jibe beautifully with the recession: No money, no shopping, so look at who you’re with, talk to him.”

What does she like better, food or fucking?

“Can I put a martini first, then food? Then fucking.” She said the word as if it had four syllables; my tape recorder was inches from her lips. I asked what was the best dish she ever had at Le Cirque?

“Foie gras ravioli.”

Favorite sex act?

“Are you serious? Holding hands. Nicole, here’s your wine glass.”

Nicole Miller, the glamorous fashion designer, was before me, looking sultry and in the mood.

“Food or fucking?” I blurted, spilling whiskey on my khakis.

“Oh my gawd,” she said. “I’m happy to have both.”

She talked about the time Mario Maccioni, one of Sirio’s three pretty sons, brought her bread crusts with lard and white truffle shavings—on the house! Zounds!

Her favorite sex act?

“Kissing.”

Blech!

I grabbed another free Johnnie Walker Red. Over by the bar was comic actor Robert Wuhl. Dude’s been married to the same woman for 25 years. His favorite sex act?

“Getting some. Any. I just said I’ve been married for 25 years.”

Over by the buffet was Monica Crowley, the foxy Fox commentator. For the record, I have thought about her sexually.

She likes pasta. Her favorite sexual position? No dice.

During a recession: sex or food?

“Sex, because it doesn’t cost anything most of the time,” she said.

Eeegads! I did not want to think about this nice girl paying for a bone dance. So I moved on: What did she make of the fact that New York men are just whacking it to Internet porn?

“I think that holds true as long as the Internet porn is free and it’s not a pay site,” said Ms. Crowley. How can New York women get these limp cheapskates boning again?

“A visit to La Perla to replenish that top drawer,” she said. “It’s not socks, George.”

Favorite sex act?

“A great, passionate kiss.”

While in the missionary position?

“A great passionate kiss on the mouth—where the kiss moves to the back of the neck.”

Ms. Crowley caught me checking out her outfit: Ralph Lauren vintage silk wrap, Armani pants and Jimmy Choo black leather boots.

“And La Perla underneath, from the top drawer,” she purred.

Holy moly!

I was saved by Vanity Fair writer George Wayne.

“Fucking always works, honey,” he told me. He was wearing Oliver Peoples shades, Calvin Klein bespoke suit and Valentino pumps. He smelled like a saddle.  How can women get N.Y.C. men boning again?

“Put a half a Viagra in the mojito. Get a push-up bra, a nice pair of hot pants and no underwear.”

Did he think Internet porn was ruining sex lives?

“I just discovered Internet porn and I didn’t know what I was missing.  Before I go to bed, I have a good wank.”

Mauro Maccioni, another of Sirio’s strapping sons, told me his favorite food at Le Cirque was: His wife! And then the crème brûlée. He said he’d had sex in the private room upstairs at one of the family’s other restaurants—Le Cirque 2000. His favorite sex act is smearing crème brûlée over his testicles and then presenting them to his wife.

I nabbed Mr. Elliot, Sirio’s biographer, and asked him if there’s much boom-boom in his biography of the great man,

“The woman in question, his wife, is right there,” he said, swiveling his eyes. “There were lots of allusions in my book to the beautiful women who love Sirio and Sirio loves—but he always goes home. Because you know what, she’d fricking kill you with a pan. If Egidiana ever thought that her husband was ever actually really fucking around on her, she has a frying pan like this.”

KA-BON-N-N-N-N-GGGGG!

Everywhere I looked were yummy MILF-y women but one really stood out with her mink hat and sable coat. She was Sonja Morgan, a film producer whose 8-year-old daughter’s great-great-great-grandfather was J. P. Morgan. Ms. Morgan said she’s a good friend of Sirio’s. (“He always guests me, I never pay.”)  I asked her her favorite sex act.

“Kissing.”

Oh man!

I asked her how to get New York’s limp men to step up.

“Do not mention the stock market, do not mention shopping and don’t wear underwear.”

I asked if kissing really was the summit.

“Let’s just put it this way,” she said, sweeping up her fur coat and turning around. “I have the most amazing ass.”

Artist Brian Farrell was by the buffet. With his shaved head he resembled actor Billy Zane but much better-looking. Wildest sex he’s had this year?

“Three girls,” he said. “I wasn’t involved, but watching. It was a friend’s birthday party. By 12:30 a.m. I was being dragged out the door by three women, thrown into a cab. ‘You’re going to watch us all fuck each other.’ They wanted me to sit in a chair. Wasn’t allowed to touch ’em. One was 19, she’s a model. The other was 22, a model—so to speak—and the other was in her early 40’s, an Upper East Side socialite. Socialites are the worst. They’re dirty. They love it. They get in there.”

He said he also loves the monkfish at Le Cirque.

ggurley@observer.com

Zitoune is Arabic for “olive,” another commodity of the souk, where there are stalls that sell only olives-heaped in glistening piles of variegated hues, from blue-black to pale green-which the vendor spoons into cones of rough brown paper. Here, the olives are in a small tajine-a traditional glazed pottery dish with a conical lid-that’s brought to the table when you sit down, along with anise bread, olive rolls and the pungent leather menus.

Three months ago, Zitoune took over the premises formerly occupied by the unprepossessingly named (and short-lived) Menu, which before that was a French bistro, Le Gans. It took two years for the co-owner, Alain Bennouna-who got tired of staring at the crowds piling into Pastis across the street while the tables in his restaurant remained empty-to look to his Moroccan roots for inspiration. The decision has paid off. The new place finally has a buzz. It’s filled not just with the young and hip, but also older Village intellectuals with their grizzled hair and baggy sweaters. Maître d’ Saad Khal-laayoun, Mr. Bennouna’s nephew, patrols the floor, presiding over the room and greeting customers like a downtown version of Le Cirque’s Sirio Maccioni. The dining room still looks much like that of a bistro, with large mirrors hanging on bare brick walls, a long bar, and mullion windows giving onto the corner of Gansevoort and Greenwich streets. But Moroccan lamps with cheerful red and blue shades have been added, and traditional tajines, unglazed pottery, blue-green ceramic plates and hand-woven baskets are used for serving the food.

The service is friendly, although there can be waits between courses. At the next table one Saturday night, six cool-looking young Asians posed for pictures, which the waiter had offered to take for them. The waiter sported an impressive calligraphic tattoo on his upper arm, and I asked him what it was. “It’s my name, Yaseen, in Korean.” Why Korean? “Because I’m in love with a Korean woman,” he replied simply.

Zitoune’s chef and co-owner, Julian Clauss-Ehlers, is an Englishman who trained in France. He has subtly updated Moroccan cuisine, adding details and refinements to many of the traditional dishes. Moroccans like to combine savory with sweet, which they do in their tajines (stews), mixing meat and fruit, as well as in their pastries and pies. Briwats are little phyllo tubes that Mr. Clauss-Ehlers pan-fries after filling with crab and mungbean vermicelli. Delicate and light-better than spring rolls-they’re served with a spicy orange dressing and a thick tomato chutney that sets off the crab nicely. B’istiya is a flaky round pastry, usually stuffed with pigeon, that’s sprinkled with confectioners’ sugar and cinnamon. Mr. Clauss-Ehlers fills it with shredded duck, nuts and raisins. It’s disappointingly bland, like the sort of thing dished up for tourists in second-rate Moroccan hotels.

But there are no complaints about the crisp chunks of deep-fried cod served with a relish of diced cucumber (wrapped nouvelle-style in a paper-thin cucumber slice) and a creamy, rich mayonnaise made with a blend of Moroccan spices, cilantro and parsley. I like this dish better than the skewered shrimp, grilled and served hot on a cold wild rice and avocado salad-a strange mixing of temperatures. The platter of traditional Moroccan salads-carrot, chickpea and spicy eggplant-is perfectly pleasant. But the updated carpaccio of lamb res el hannout is a gem: thin circles of meat sprinkled with a Moroccan spice mixture and served with a mound of couscous salad with cinnamon and raisins, and a dressing made from fresh mint and harissa.

Short ribs, which are painstakingly emptied onto the plate from a small earthenware vessel that looks like a miniature Ali Baba urn, are overwhelmed by cumin. Grilled marinated lamb, on the other hand, suffers from a lack of spices. The person eating it reached over for my harissa sauce, which comes with the couscous. The grains in this dish are light and fluffy, but the seven vegetables piled on top of them are virtually indistinguishable (almost like British vegetables in the old days). Even the traditional bowl of broth on the side fails to perk up this lot.

But all is forgiven when you taste Mr. Clauss-Ehlers’ lamb tajine. This is a great dish, made with melting pieces of lamb in thick, dark sauce, with caramelized quince and toasted Israeli pearl couscous. It’s hard to choose between this and the veal cheeks, which are simmered with dates, almonds and honey, a concoction out of the Song of Solomon. The Cornish hen is juicy, enlivened by a side dish of spinach bakoula, simmered with preserved lemon and green olives. It’s worth getting a side order of merguez, too, a spicy lamb sausage that arrives in a coil.

The inexpensive wine list has plenty of good choices in the $30 range to go with this food. I’d like to see some Moroccan wines, too.

For dessert, the chocolate-cappuccino mousse is outstanding, zapped with res el hannout spices that bring out the flavor of the chocolate. Poached figs look pretty but are tasteless, served with Moroccan pancakes and honey and black currant sauce. I am not bowled over by the spiced couscous with vanilla ice cream (a Moroccan answer to rice pudding, and not nearly as good), or the orange cake, made with layers of sponge alternating with orange mousse, which seemed to have lingered too long in the refrigerator.

Zitoune is a welcome addition to this rapidly changing neighborhood. The prices are right (there are no main courses over $20), and so is the friendly atmosphere. If it gets too successful, who knows? Maybe Keith McNally will have to follow Mr. Bennouna’s example and start serving British food at Pastis.

Zitoune *

46 Gansevoort Street

675-5224

Dress : Casual

Noise Level : Fine

Wine List : Reasonably priced, mostly French and American

Credit Cards : All major, except Discover

Price Range : Brunch, main courses, $7 to $13; lunch, $7 to $13; dinner, $16 to $20.50; $25 prix fixe (includes glass of wine); tasting menu, $42.50

Lunch : Monday to Friday, noon to 3 p.m.

Dinner : Monday to Thursday, 5:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, to midnight; Sunday, to 10:30 p.m.

Brunch: Saturday and Sunday, noon to 3 p.m.

* Good

* * Very Good

* * * Excellent

* * * * Outstanding

No Star: Poor

The night before the party, Max walked into the restaurant and saw his dad–the son of Warner Bros. potentate and The Wizard of Oz producer Mervyn LeRoy–crouched on the floor, examining paintings that were to be hung on the restaurant’s walls. Max remembered there was a thick layer of gold dust from the freshly gilded ceilings in his father’s hair. Just a few feet away, Max’s sister, Jennifer LeRoy, 21, who had worked at their father’s Tavern on the Green for two years, was dusting, polishing and vacuuming and would continue until dawn.

“It woke me up,” said Max, who on this July afternoon was dressed in a dark suit and sitting at a banquette in his father’s newest restaurant. Max, who has spiky brown hair, brown eyes and a slim frame, hadn’t thought much about going into his father’s line of work. He currently plays guitar in a band, Lil’ Red, that he has with Samantha Ronson. “I always thought I’d be a rock star. For real,” he said. But seeing his old man immersed in the final stages of opening his restaurant, “I saw how much work my father had put into it and I was filled with a real family pride.” That night in October, Max rolled up his sleeves and entered the family business.

Ten months later, Max and his sister Jennifer are managing the Russian Tea Room while their 65-year-old father battles a curable lymphoma that, at press time, had him hospitalized. (“He is responding well to treatment,” said Mr. LeRoy’s spokeswoman, Shelley Clark.) The LeRoy children said that he communicates with them via approximately 30 memos a day. They send him photos of the flower arrangements and report on the state of the Tea Room’s carpet. They also make sure the 15-foot bear aquarium keeps rotating, that the ice sculptures aren’t melting, that the glasses are spot-free.

“We keep up the standard,” said Jennifer, who has long brown hair, hazel eyes and who wore a tan suede suit. “But we have a lot to learn.”

The LeRoy children were both sitting at a front booth in their father’s baroque reinterpretation of the Tea Room, and as they scanned the restaurant looking for potential problems, there was the sense that a transition was underway–a change that was far from complete but one that was happening all over the city. The vivid impresarios of Manhattan’s meritocracy were graying and slowing, and they were being replaced by their own children.

After decades in which the children of Manhattan’s rich and powerful graduated from posh, vaunted universities, took their trust funds and, like Oliver Barrett in Love Story , set out to carve out an independent niche that was as far away as possible from Mom and Dad’s bony-assed shadows, something different is happening. More and more, it seems these privileged offspring–often after brief stints away–are following in Dad’s or Mom’s Gucci footprints. In addition to Mr. LeRoy’s children, Le Cirque 2000 owner Sirio Maccioni’s sons are working to keep the Maccioni name prominent in the city; so are Tim and Nina Zagat’s son Ted Zagat, fashion designer Betsey Johnson’s daughter, Lulu, Hard Rock Hotel owner Peter Morton’s son Harry Morton, real estate developer Donald Trump’s son Donny Trump and various heirs apparent who go by the appellations of Lauder, Lauren, Speyer, Nederlander, Murdoch and Plimpton.

And there are others–surnames that have come to be equated with brand names in Manhattan and the world. If your surname already carries weight in one area of enterprise, the current reasoning seems to be, why break your neck trying to establish some new foothold? Especially in an economy where it takes a helluva lot more dough to live the good life that your guilty parents showered upon you during your prep-school years.

Everyone could learn a lesson from David Lauren, the 28-year-old son of fashion designer Ralph Lauren. David is currently the chief creative officer of Ralph Lauren Media, a partnership with Polo and NBC that’s about to launch polo.com. But before he took that job at his father’s company, David toiled for years in his own wilderness trying to make Swing , his slim magazine for twentysomethings, work.

Will these beneficiaries of the New Nepotism combine pluck and luck to prolong the familial cache and power for another generation, insuring that they will continue to live the vivid, privileged lives that their parents’ success created?

As they sat in the Tea Room, Max and Jennifer acknowledged that, during their childhood, they didn’t understand that their father’s ownership of Maxwell’s Plum and Tavern on the Green as well as his reputation as New York’s showman restaurateur was a big deal, but they knew their lives were unique. “I definitely wanted to own Great Adventure when we were young. It was the coolest thing to have,” Jennifer said, referring to the New Jersey amusement park that her father owned, but sold to Time Warner in 1993.

But now their thoughts were of a more down-to-earth variety. Max’s band is playing Roseland in August but he works at the Tea Room five days a week. Jennifer works at the Tea Room at least six nights a week. Earlier, Ms. LeRoy worked for two years at Tavern on the Green, where, she said, she worked every job from cutting lemons to dishwashing. At 19, she oversaw the kitchen’s 85 male cooks.

Jennifer picked up a wineglass that a waiter had set on the table and inspected it. “There will definitely never be anyone but a LeRoy owning Tavern or the Russian Tea Room,” she said. She explained that approximately 30 years ago, her father leased the Tavern site from the City of New York for 100 years. “Dad started it, we’ll keep it going,” she said. “We’ll definitely expand, that’s the biggest thing Max and I want to do,” she said. “Our Dad has always done that and we want to keep it going. Create new boundaries.”

LeRoy père declined to be interviewed, but, from his hospital bed, he issued a statement via his spokeswoman: “My restaurants have always been like second family to me, so it’s terrific to have my children involved. Jennifer and Max have really taken to the business. They have a great future in it.”

Mr. LeRoy makes an interesting point about how important his business is to him, and therein lies the rub of children jumping into the family business–especially in the pressure-soaked environs of Manhattan where reputations rise and fall on the fickle, petulant tastes of pampered people. It’s a less-than-ideal way for Junior to learn the ropes when it’s at the expense of Dad’s hard-won, A-list clients.

Just ask Mauro Maccioni, 28, the youngest of three sons of restaurateur Sirio Maccioni, the owner of Le Cirque 2000 restaurant. When he was 7 years old, Mauro remembered, his father would dress him in a bowtie and have him serve champagne to the diners at Le Cirque, which at the time was located in an architecturally cramped space where the airier Daniel now sits. Mauro and his brothers, Mario and Marco, virtually grew up in their father’s restaurant, where the elder Maccioni could often been seen barking orders or looking askance at his sons as they scurried about the room serving the Kissingers, the Kempners or Cindy and Joey Adams. Part of it was an act, of course, Mr. Maccioni’s role as ringleader of the culinary circus, but, eventually, Mauro said, with a smile on his face: “We wanted to get out from actually working in the same restaurant–it would have driven us nuts.”

In 1996, the pressure lessened, a bit, when Sirio opened the $2.5 million Osteria del Circo at 120 W. 55th Street for his sons. Papa Maccioni invested a fortune in Circo, because, Mauro said, “He wanted us to do something on our own, but didn’t want us to have to answer to an investor.”

This afternoon, July 20, the lunch crowd had left, Circo was practically empty and Mauro sat down at a table with a glass of water and a portable phone that wouldn’t stop ringing. He signed a $35,000 check for payroll. He was wearing a body-hugging custom-tailored suit and a spotless pair of tan leather shoes that he picked up on a recent trip to Italy.

Mauro handed over his business card, which features the logo of Circo on one side and Le Cirque on the other. He and his brothers still oversee the restaurant when his father is on vacation and, with a second Le Cirque recently opened at the Bellagio hotel in Las Vegas, the understanding in restaurant circles is that eventually, each of the Maccioni sons will inherit a restaurant.

Asked why he decided to go into the family business, Mauro smiled. His bright eyes did not yet carry the skepticism of his father’s gaze. “They put a gun to my head,” he smiled. “I really didn’t have any sort of epiphany,” Mauro said. “I decided because it was something I was very familiar with. As a young child, I was sort of encouraged into thinking that … I probably had the same knack. I never thought twice about doing something else–for the time being.”

Mauro smiled again. “It’s not easy,” he said. “My father is a very intense person, he always wants things his way. Sometimes, you can feel the heat of Le Cirque from over here.” And when his father gives son the speech about growing up poor in Montecatini, Mauro said that he tells him: “Dad, it’s different for us. We don’t have to be slaves.”

They don’t exactly spend all day sipping Montepulciano in the back room either. Ask Mauro who his girlfriend is and he will reply giddily, “Circo!” Six days a week, he manages the restaurant and the mercurial egos of his customer during two shifts that last from 10:30 a.m. to 3 p.m., and then from 5:30 p.m. until 11:30 p.m.

And always his father is watching. “My friends joke: ‘Uh-oh, he’s late for work, his dad’s going to call now.” And there is the day-to-day reality of living in his father’s substantial shadow. “People come to the restaurant and see how hard we work,” Mauro said. “But it took three sons to do what he did as one father.”

Expansion is one way of working the offspring into the family and the technological revolution of the last few years is helping that expansion, especially when Dad can’t figure out how to e-mail his clients or even turn on the friggin’ computer monitor. According to Ken Preston, adjunct professor of management a the New York University Stern Graduate School of Business, “More people are working for their parents and the main reason is that with the advent of technology, younger people feel that they have an immediate platform in the family business.”

Mr. Preston added that “Historically, one of the big problems with family businesses has been the issue of simultaneous roles. Children have certain roles in the family–a woman may be Daddy’s Little Girl at home even when she is 25, 30 or 35, and even when she has an M.B.A. from Wharton,” he said. When Dad the C.E.O. treats daughter Missy, the C.O.O. like Daddy’s Little Girl during the quarterly sales meeting, trouble inevitably follows, which is why, Mr. Preston continued, “children who ordinarily might have entered the family business haven’t done so.” But now, he added, “technology gives children identities that transcend the family roles.” In other words, ungrateful, good-for-nothing Junior suddenly looks a whole lot more valuable when he can get the modem to work for Dad.

The digital revolution has also figured in a cultural revolution which, overnight has made a lot of the touchstones of Manhattan power, sex and glamour look so, well, 20th century . So, it would seem that Mr. Preston’s observation would also apply to the extremely with-it children of Manhattan’s rich and famous. Pater LeRoy’s reinvention of the Russian Tea Room has not exactly faired well in the press. No matter how many times Mike Nichols eats lunch there, he, nor Ms. Walters, nor many of the other celebrities that Warner LeRoy has cultivated over the years can make the place hip again.

So when Max told his father he wanted to have a party at the restaurant where his roommate, Mark Ronson, also the brother of Max’s bandmate and New York magazine cover subject, would spin records, Warner happily said yes.

Max has thrown two parties so far, on May 7 and June 7. “He wants us to do it weekly,” said Max about his father, who didn’t seem to mind that the May 7 party was attended by Sean (Puffy) Combs and his entourage. (Paging Mr. Nichols!) Max admitted that he was worried during the first party about possible cigarette burns on the $30,000 bars, but once he sat down and had a drink, he said, he started to enjoy himself. “The young crowd reminds you of how this place used to be,” he said.

It’s hard to be hipper than your mother when Mom’s the one with the orange hair, but Lulu Johnson, 25, spends just about every waking moment with her fashion designer mother, Betsey Johnson. “She’s always asking me my opinion on things,” said Lulu from her mother’s new house in East Hampton, where last Saturday they attended the Polo match in Bridgehampton like a true society couple.

Lulu started working for her mother right out of high school, back when the company didn’t even have assistants. She’s worked in jobs ranging from public relations, to managing the East 60th Street store, to fittings and styling models for shows.

“As soon as I hit 14 [years old], I wore mom’s clothes…I realized I wanted to be in fashion,” said Lulu. My mother never forced me into it, she was extremely happy.” But, when she was 23, Lulu realized that she needed a break, to figure out if she wanted a career of her own. She took some acting classes and taught at a preschool, but she missed working for her mom. “It wasn’t the craziness and the energy of the fashion industry, that I realized I really missed.”

Ted Zagat began working for his parents Tim and Nina Zagat’s guide book empire when they began to expand onto the Internet, but after using his technological know-how to find a role in the family business, it was his knowledge of the city’s hot nightspots that secured him his coming out, so to speak, when he spearheaded the Zagat New York City Nightlife guide that was published earlier this year. Currently, Ted works between 60 and 70 hours a week for his parents, creating, “strategic partnerships, negotiating contracts and developing the web site.” But there is a buffer zone. Ted’s office, while in the same building, is two floors below his parents’.

“Frankly I wanted my own space,” he said, adding that “sometimes it’s a little weird being the bosses’ kid.” Still, he said, “It must be self evident to people that I’ve earned my stripes. I went to respectable schools [Exeter and Harvard] … everyone here knows how hard I work.” Some of those stripes were also earned when he worked in Paul Bocuse’s restaurant in Lyon, France–peeling potatoes for a summer when he was 16 years old. He got the job through “connections”–the chef is a good friend of Ted’s parents. So is Wolfgang Puck, who gave Ted a gig at Spago in Los Angeles the following summer.

“I’ve always known I wanted to be involved in this,” said Ted. “I never wanted to be a firefighter or an astronaut. There’s no one I can think of off hand that I would trade with right now. I feel blessed.”

Who wouldn’t feel blessed having a surname with the clout to score last-minute reservations at practically any restaurant in town? Certainly this isn’t lost on any of the kids. As Jennifer LeRoy put it, “We haven’t been to Ducasse, yet.” She was referring to the impossible-to-get a reservation restaurant that vaunted chef Alain Ducasse recently opened in the Essex House hotel. But, she added, “we will.” Indeed, the LeRoys, Zagat and Maccioni children have been enjoying the fruits of Manhattan’s culinary scene since their childhoods. Max and Jennifer LeRoy’s Dalton School classes took field trips to Tavern on the Green’s pastry kitchen, where the chefs taught the grade schoolers how to flambé.

And Mauro Maccioni remembered the birthday when Le Cirque’s renowned pastry chef, Jacques Torres, baked a fancy dark chocolate cake which was delivered to Mauro’s school. “The kids were used to Betty Crocker,” Mauro recalled. “All my friends said, ‘this cake sucks.’”

Harry Morton, the 19-year-old son of Hard Rock Hotel and Casino owner Peter Morton has had similar experiences, but his experiences with the New Nepotism have been a bit tougher on him. “Brutal” is the word he used to describe the hotel staff’s attitude toward him during his first summer there, three years ago.

“I did one too many summers of sitting in bed all day and my parents decided it was time for me to get my ass in gear,” he said, adding that “being 16 [years old], it was nice to get away from my parents for a summer.” Currently, Harry manages to jet off to his father’s East Hampton estate every other weekend, but he insists that he works hard during his summer vacation from N.Y.U., where he has completed one year of school–an experience he called a disaster. “I’m not a huge supporter of college,” he said.

Harry speaks to his father about four times a day. “I don’t consider it really working for my dad. It’s not like I’m reporting to him. He turns me over to the manager of the hotel.” Mr. Morton fils said that he’s earned himself some respect in the three years he’s worked at the hotel. “They realize maybe I’m not fucking around,” he said. Still, he says, “a lot of people say, oh yeah you went to work for your dad, it’ll be easy.” The opportunity to work for his successful father makes Harry “feel leaps and bounds ahead of people.” But, he added, “It’s not always easy … There’s a lot of pressure. I’m always living in his footsteps. I want to branch out on my own.”

Although Harry’s also taking summer-school classes in Vegas, he does manage to take advantage of his run of the hotel by importing friends from New York, Europe, L.A. to party at the Hard Rock. “Vegas isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” said Harry. “It’s brutal, I miss New York like mad right now … There’s a seriously doggy group of people here.”

And Mr. Morton, sir, please don’t ask your son to share an office with you any time soon. “That’d be awful,” said Harry.

Dr. Robert Katz would probably agree. Dr. Katz is not the guy with the Comedy Central cartoon series, but rather a psychologist trained in psychoanalysis with an office on the Upper East Side. He often counsels children victimized by nepotism–and he said he doesn’t think working for the family business is so great for mental health.

“It’s very similar to not leaving home, to what it means psychologically to not leave home,” said Dr. Katz. “There’s always the potential of lost opportunity to become more yourself and develop yourself apart from the feeling of making it on your own … it’s a way of remaining in the family. Full growth involves leaving the family,” said Dr. Katz.

Donald Trump would have you believe that neither is he. Mr. Trump’s son Donny, 21, graduated from his father’s alma mater, the Wharton School of Business in May and he plans to work for his father when he gets back from a summer trip to Alaska. Donny wasn’t available for comment, but his father was, and he sounded a protective note. “Leave my boy alone,” said Mr. Trump. “It’s a lot of pressure on children when they go into a business like this. A big factor towards their success is whether or not they like it. If they don’t love it as Vince Lombardi would say, it’s not going to work.” Mr. Trump said that he hoped his children “ultimately do something they love.”

Back at the Tea Room, Jennifer and Max LeRoy were thinking about the future.

“I want to have something smaller,” Max said of the restaurant he wants to open one day in New York.

“I want something big!” interjected Jennifer, with a smile.

Max laughed and thought a bit. “I can’t believe my Dad ran Tavern for so long,” he said, noting that the restaurant had 800 employees. “It’s like a town.”

He said it as if maybe one day it would be his town too.

Additional reporting by William Berlind.