WEEKEND ESCAPE
A foodie lesson in Philo
At the Apple Farm in the Anderson Valley, former owners of the famed French Laundry teach cooking -- and kitchen etiquette.
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WHEN I told a friend who works as a chef that I was taking three days of cooking classes in the Anderson Valley for a vacation, his response was quick and typically tart: "I wish you'd told me first. I need help in my kitchen."
Wisecracks aside, I understand that some might find the idea of a "cooking vacation" counterintuitive. Who would want to worry over a stove with a group of strangers in the heat of summer?
But generally I find the step-by-step process of putting together a meal relaxing. I'd first learned of the class during a trip to Mendocino County a few years back. We made a quick detour from quirky Boonville to the Apple Farm in nearby Philo, 30 tucked-away acres just far enough off California 128 to feel like a genuine discovery.
We meandered through the lush grounds edging up to the orchards. Then I happened upon the Apple Farm's vast, sun-flooded kitchen: its large chopping-block work islands; huge old Montague stove; well-stocked pantry; row upon row of gleaming baking pans; stacks of gorgeous, hand-made crockery. Looking around this well-appointed, obviously professional kitchen in the middle of a fairy-tale-in-the-woods setting, I took it all in. "What," I wondered, "goes on here?"
I finally indulged my curiosity and called. It turns out that cooking classes at the farm are run by Sally Schmitt, who, with her husband, Don, owned and operated the French Laundry, the famed Yountville restaurant. After 16 years, they sold it and "retired" — entrusting the business to chef Thomas Keller — who did them proud and brought it international acclaim.
The weekend sessions, which run February through October, book up months in advance. Classes and menus are determined by what's available from local purveyors and what's doing nicely in the farm's gardens.
By the time my session arrived in late July, the meteorologists were predicting 95 degrees or warmer in Philo, so I packed shorts and skirts, a sweater for the cool nights and comfortable shoes. From the Oakland airport, it's a 2 1/2 -hour drive up U.S. 101 to Philo.
Heading into the hills on California 128, you get your first whiff of the woods — firs and evergreens and, finally, majestic groves of redwoods. The road narrows and serpentines dramatically the farther you climb, enough perhaps to make even the most road-hardy carsick.
I arrived with a friend well before the 5 p.m. start time. We had our choice of the three A-frame cottages close, but not too close, together, and all a quick walk from the farmhouse kitchen. (We nearly took the one with the private outdoor shower.) Each high-ceilinged cottage is simply appointed with a sort of rustic elegance: wood four-poster beds covered with cheerful quilts, wood floors covered by rag rugs, and small bouquets of lavender that scent the room.
After cleaning up in the old-fashioned sink, I headed to the farmhouse kitchen — blessedly air-conditioned — where I collected my apron and met the rest of the eight-person class. We assembled around the large island, where Sally had set out a crate of ripe, fragrant peaches.
Don trudged in wearing a workshirt, boots and dungarees and started things rolling by uncorking several bottles. We sipped and he told us what notes to look for in the Sauvignon Blanc from Husch Vineyards not far down the road.
Our group had two men and six women. One couple had come from Seattle for their third experience. We all made an introductory " 'Love Boat,' here's to the journey" toast.
Sally spoke in comforting, buttery tones as she handed each of us a folder of recipes. That's when we realized what we'd gotten ourselves into: That night's dinner would be a three-course affair. The next day, it would be five courses, but with a three-dish lunch to prepare and consume before that. One couple began planning a morning run among the redwoods up in the nearby Hendy Woods to jog off the cream and butter damage.
Sally simply plunged forward, going over the evening's menu: poblano chile soup, bacon-wrapped scallops, peach gelato. She got one group started peeling peaches, then started another on the next segment of the recipe. This technique, though it seemed democratic and logical at first, didn't account for the overzealous in class — the first to take charge, the first to tell you how they do it at home.
Competition in the kitchen
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