MARIANI’S

 

Virtual Gourmet

June 28,  2026                                                                                            NEWSLETTER

 

 



Founded in 1996 

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The Walrus and the Carpenter in "Alice Through the Looking Glass"
illustration by Sir John Tenniel




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THE RIDICULOUS MYTH OF FRENCH
RESTAURANTS IN AMERICA
BY JOHN MARIANI



NEW YORK CORNER
GUSI

By John Mariani


THE BISON
CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN

By John Mariani

NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR


MARPAOUT: A LEFT BANK BORDEAUX
FOLLOWS THE RIGHT BANK MODEL TO
PRODUCE AN EXCEPTION MERLOT

 
By John Mariani



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THE RIDICULOUS MYTH OF FRENCH
RESTAURANTS IN AMERICA


By  John Mariani


Mr Creosote


    In last week's Food Section of the New York Times, restaurant critic Ligaya Mishan awards four stars to an Israeli restaurant in Washington named Albi (right). Congratulations. But one sentence at the end caught my eye: "There is no hushed reverence, nor the careful distance often maintained at other temples of food." I'm not sure what she means by "careful distance," unless it's the space between tables, but the negative connotation that "temples of food" have a "hushed reverence" struck me as dated at least and naive at worst.
   
Les Ambassadeurs at Le Crillon, Paris

    The fact is, at a time when even the most high-end restaurants in America are awash in  intrusive piped-in music, usually Euro-Techno, the idea that there is any such thing as a hushed reverence is pure piffle. In fact, in a lifetime of dining at high and low restaurants in many countries, I can count on the fingers of one hand the kind of restaurant she is suggesting still exists. One was at an Alain Ducasse restaurant in Paris that had the atmosphere of a grim grandmother's parlor. But that was forty years ago, and subsequent visits to Paris have not revealed any such dreariness anywhere.
    Of course, when Mishan refers to hushed temples of food, she means, largely, French restaurants (as well as a few preciously modernist restaurants in Chicago where you are told how to eat a dish) of a kind where the decor is Louis this or that, the maître d' is in white tie, the menu all in French and the reception is as icy as an intermezzo sorbet. Many, many years ago there  might have been restaurants like this, where snootiness was often the rule and haughty class distinctions marked, places one simply didn't really enjoy being in all night. Back in the 1950s and 1960s in New York there were a few places like this––though none was hushed––like Le Pavillon (not the current Daniel Boulud restaurant by that name), where the rotund owner Henri Soulé (above) ruled over his red banquettes not like a mother hen but like a Queen of the Roses. La Grenouille and La Côte Basque had something of this tenor, but Le Cirque, which was always lively and exciting and glamorous, had an ill-founded reputation for treating favorites to exquisite food and service while newcomers were shunted to some imaginary Siberia and served sub-par food. The truth is, regulars and celebrities do get special treatment in restaurants that attract them, but that did not mean everyone else was treated with disdain.
    There  most certainly was a number of French places, not all of them fine dining, where  captains and waiters wore tuxedos, even if, as at the dingy Le Veau d'Ór, they were shiny from wear. But the idea, perpetuated by the movies––remember Ferris Bueller bluffing his way past a haughty maître d' at L'Orangerie in Los Angeles (left)?––that this was the rule rather than the exception was out-of-date by the mid-1960s. It was certainly not the case with a new generation of French restaurants that came after, like Le Bernardin, Chanterelle, Jean-Georges, Bouley, Picholine, Daniel, Lespinasse and Le Périgord.
    Nor was it true outside of New York: Not at Jean-Louis in Washington, Citrus in West Hollywood, Mélisse in Santa Monica, Maisonette in Cincinnati, Tony's in Houston, Le Perroquet in Chicago, Déja-Vu in Philadelphia or Maison Robert in Boston. The boom in America of modern restaurants loosened things up into a more casual style, as at places like Michael's in Santa Monica (right), Providence in Los Angeles, Chez Panisse in Berkeley and Gary Danko  and Stars in San Francisco, where  restaurant design by the finest architects became among the most exciting of any industry. Out went the crystal chandeliers, the furled curtains, the silver candlesticks and the brocade wallpaper. Restaurants started to look like modern art galleries. The staff, once resolutely geriatric French or Italian, was becoming younger and more American. Wonderful new kinds of restaurants like Union Square Café, An American Place, The Quilted Giraffe (below) changed ideas about service, removing the starch and adding bonhomie.
   
    The very idea of being a hushed temple of food went out decades ago, replaced by enticing restaurants of every stripe, including French bistros like Le Gratin, Brasserie Cognac, Orsay, Benoit and the scrubbed new version of Le Veau d'Or. And that's a problem when that piped-in music blasts from speakers above your table. Moreover, the decibel level of the modern dining population has risen to the levels of a crowd at an NFL game.  It is literally impossible for me to think of even one contemporary restaurant, French or otherwise, where the room is hushed.
    Nevertheless, the buoyant atmosphere of dining at a contemporary haute cuisine restaurant like Jean-Georges, Per Se, Gabriel Kreuther, Le Coucou or Essential by Christophe is wholly opposite to any conceived notions that the experience will be a dreary exercise in self-abnegation. Now if they just turn down the music, all will be ideal.
   
   



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NEW YORK CORNER



GUSI
432 Sixth Avenue

    646-370-5413

By John Mariani



Gusi mural

       Slavic restaurants have always had a small presence in  New York’s dining scene, although the Russian Tea Room still thrives after a century in business. There is also a Russian community in Brighton Beach that supports a number of banquet hall-size restaurants and a few cafés that have their Eastern European adherents.

       Gusi, open only two months, is an attempt to modernize and bring some Slavic snazz to the West Village with a two-story venue whose name means “goose,” which oddly enough is not on the menu but evokes how the bird flies “across borders and regions, much like the cuisine itself.”

Founded by husband-and-wife team Boris Artemyev and Elena Melnikova, with Galina Bovtun in the kitchen, the aim here is to explore the food culture of Eastern Europe on “two distinct moods”: The low-lighted ground floor (above), called  "Geese, Earthbound,” uses elements of charred wood, vintage mirrors and tactile surfaces referencing a grandmother's farmhouse but one with modern taste via a textile installation rendered in the style of Soviet era rugs, appended with  sculptural art objects. The shadowy (watch yourself!) stairway is hung with an oversized crystal chandelier leading to the second floor (above) called “Swans, Airy and Elevated," done with gray green walls, parquet floors,  curtains and artwork touched, with the ceilings and walls hand-painted with abstract expressionist murals. It is intended as a space for a slower, quieter, more elegant dinner; downstairs modern music of various kinds is played a bit too loud.
   
I dined downstairs with my guests, and, since my wife is of Russian extraction, she was a savvy critic. The menu begins with a selection of spreads and pickles, including hummus with tahini, and the puff pastry baked called pirozhki stuffed with potatoes, cabbage and beef tongue that were warm and delicious as  starter. The blinis are marvelously thin and have the right yeasty flavor, rolled with house-made salmon or red roe.
There is a section of pelmeni, a Russian version of ravioli stuffed with a  variety of meats that includes exotica like elk, bison and yak, as well as beef, pork and potatoes with  caramelized onions  (right). They come in a steamy, rich chicken broth in a  ceramic bowl. There is, of course, borscht (below), with its  lovely color of beets and full of duck or mushrooms and dollops of sour cream, as well as the tangy solyanka (“settler’s soup”) made with cucumbers, olives and lemons in a tomato broth.

    One could easily make a meal of these dishes, but there are some good main courses, including a hearty, deeply flavorful beef stroganoff rich with sour  cream. Golubtzi are cabbage rolls with beef, tongue and rice. Chicken Kiev, which is quite a familiar dish, was a disappointment, largely because the traditional seasoned butter stuffed within the bird is supposed to emerge in a decadent gush. Which it did not.  

    Desserts stay true to form, with a condensed milk sweet called sirnicki, and blinis to be rolled with sweet condiments. And a lovely light-textured cake called grilaz, a hazelnut praline confection (right).

    Gusi’s wine and beverage list is more than up to expectations, and the bar stocks a wide array of infused vodkas and has a  number of signature cocktails.

 The owners have gone far to imbue Gusi with tonality, nostalgia and modern versions of traditional foods without any of the kitschy Romanovian décor so often found in Russian restaurants. Settled where it is the Greenwich Village, it brings something very welcome to a neighborhood that is enriched by Gusi.  

 

    Currently open daily from 4 PM; daytime and breakfast hours to come this summer.  
 




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THE BISON
By John Mariani



                       Donald Trump, Melania Knauss, Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell



CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


 


    David meanwhile was on the phone with Rush, telling him of the alleged murder. Rush whistled, then said, “I guess I’m not totally surprised. Something like this was bound to happen in that place. And this comes from a reliable source?”

    “Well, it’s from one of the girls who used to work and live at Epstein’s. Her name is Susannah Haley, apparently. She told Katie she heard  about it from a girl still there.”

    “When was this supposed to have happened?”   

    “I don’t know. Recently.”

    “Not much to go on. Will this girl speak?”

    “I know she’s scared to. She wants Epstein nailed and expects that your office is  going to do the nailing. She’s afraid if Epstein finds out she’s talking her life isn’t worth a dime.”

    “We can get her in here without anyone knowing,” said Rush.

    “Well, meanwhile, how about putting out some feelers in the community about anything anyone might have heard about a murder? What about confronting Epstein himself? Spook him. In New York I would have been at his front door ten minutes after you and I stop talking.”

    “C’mon, David,” said Rush, “we’re not all that inept down here. And how many whorehouses did you close down in New York?”

    “Not many. They ceased to exist as soon as the mob found out we were looking for them. But I can’t imagine Epstein will let you into his house to look around unless you have a court order.”

    “Well, that’s definitely not going to happen unless we have a body.”

    David thought for a moment and said, “Well, I don’t need a writ to knock on his door.”

    “David, don’t even think of it. You do and Epstein will really be spooked, and then he’s got the advantage. Promise me you won’t go near his place.”

    “Maybe neither of you will have to,” said a voice from the doorway. It was a sergeant with a piece of paper in his hand.

       “What do you mean, Javier?” asked Rush of  the sergeant, putting his hand over the phone.
       “Your friend Epstein is apparently on his way to Cuba on his Lolita Express (left). Left Miami about an hour ago.”
       Rush took the paper, which was a manifest of passengers the police obtained whenever Epstein flew anywhere or arrived back in Florida.  He told David the news.
       “What the hell’s he doing in Cuba?” asked David.
       “Maybe running away from us,” said Rush.
       “Why Cuba?”
       “Believe it or not, Uncle Fidel invited him and the president of Colombia,
Andrés Pastrana Arango (right), to Cuba and Epstein flew him on his private jet. I’m sure Epstein made overtures to Castro with money and information about American politicians. Castro must owe him, and Epstein knows Castro would never extradite him for any reason.”
      
“Holy shit.”
       “Nothing holy about it,” said Rush. “And we’re not going to parachute into the Bay of Pigs and extract him.”
       “What about MI6?” asked David.
       “MI6? British Secret Service? What are you talking about?”
       “Send in James Bond. He’ll turn Castro’s mistress and kidnap Epstein.”
       “Sounds like a great plan, David. I’ll call up ‛M’ and see if 007 is available.”
       “Send him a picture of Castro’s mistress.”



       Katie waited for the call from Pierce she thought would never come. Meanwhile she called Ramona Sanchez to ask what she might know about the supposed murder.
       “I heard about it from Susannah, like you did,” said Sanchez.
       “So you don’t know anything more?”
       “I tried to call Jeffrey—not that I thought he’d admit to anything—but I was told he’s out of the country.”
       “Yeah,” said Katie. “Apparently he’s in Cuba.”
       Sanchez laughed. “Well, I hope he stays there. He and Ghislaine can run girls in on his private jet.”
       “I want to ask you about Ghislaine. I get the feeling that she’s trying to really distance herself from the investigations, and if there really was a murder, she’s definitely going to want to stay clear of any allegations.”
       “I don’t know. Ghislaine is always going to try to save her own skin, and ever since she stopped being Jeffrey’s girlfriend and became his pimp, she started to look different, act different. But you know that she’s deep in Jeffrey’s pocket for a shitload of money. She’s got to play it very careful if she’s going to try to get out of his clutches. I’m sure, like everybody Jeffrey gets his hooks into, she’s afraid of what he’d do.”
       “Okay,” Katie said, “If you hear anything, any leads on the girl who got murdered, let me know, will you?”
       “Absolutely. Jeffrey’s got to pay for all the lives he’s ruined.”     
         Katie thought that was a little disingenuous coming from a supplier of call girls but knew that Sanchez really meant what she said.

       David knew he had to speak to Vargas (below). He didn’t expect to get much out of him, but he also knew Vargas feared what David could do to put him in jail. Once a criminal agrees to help a cop, he’s usually willing to do so again. David felt he could twist more out of him. He’d had to work with despicable people before in order to get an even more despicable one. Compared to Epstein, Vargas was just a low-class pimp. So he was not surprised when Vargas picked up his phone on the second ring from David.
       “What you want?” said Vargas.

       David went right to the heart of the matter.
       “What do you know about the murder of a teenage girl at Epstein’s?”
       Vargas paused, then said, “That was bad shit, man. It wasn’t one of my girls, I swear to you. I never knew her either. But I heard from some other girls what happened.”
       David was not about to ask if one of them was Susannah.
       “And what’d you hear?”
     
 
“This girl, she was like fifteen and a favorite of one of Jeffrey’s best friends.”
       “Angus Pierce?”
       “Yeah, that’s the guy. South African or something. Liked weird sex, man, and used a shitload of drugs.”
       “Who supplied the drugs?”
       Vargas laughed, “You fuckin’ kidding me? You could walk out on your front lawn in Palm Beach and buy drugs across the street. Those people are always doing expensive shit. The dealers are all Cubans from West Palm, of course.”
       “So, you have any idea what happened after the girl died?”
       “The girls say a van pulled up near the house, and they saw her body being carried out. The wrapped a blanket around her.”
       “I don’t suppose they told you the color of the van.”
       “No, I don’t suppose they did.”
        “So you weren’t driving that van?”
        “Me? Fuck, man, I was here in Miami. I haven’t been to Palm Beach in a month. That’s all I know. Swear to God.”
       David asked, “Does this kind of thing bother a lowlife like you?”
       “Yeah, y’know, it does. This shit goes too far. Me, I’m a businessman, and this shit is bad for business.”           “Not to mention for the girl. Would you tell what you just told me to the Palm Beach Police?”
       “What do I know? Hearsay from some whores?”
       David wasn’t going to thank Vargas for the information but just said he’d be in touch if he found out anything else.
       “I don’t need to know nothing else. Don’t call me about this shit again.”
       “Can’t promise anything,” said David and hung up.
       Despite Vargas’s attempt to kill David with the spider, David felt that was personal, and it had nothing to do with business and that Vargas would refuse any request by Epstein to get involved by getting rid of Katie or himself. That gave him some small sense of relief.


 © John Mariani, 2024









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NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR


MARPAOUT: A LEFT BANK BORDEAUX
FOLLOWS THE RIGHT BANK MODEL TO
PRODUCE AN EXCEPTIONAL MERLOT


By John Mariani



 



    It is a very rare thing in tradition-bound Bordeaux new winery is born, especially when it is on land that has been there for millennia. So it was unusual when a former airline industry entrepreneur named Arjen Pen decided to make a 100% Merlot called Marpaout on a small plot of land of Bordeaux’s Left Bank, where estates always blend varietals like Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc and others with Merlot. Only on the Right Bank, called Pomerol, do châteaux like the illustrious Pétrus, Certan-de-May and Clinet produce 100%  Merlots.

Nevertheless Pen and a partner persisted  and are about to release their 2022 vintage, with only 900 bottles and 50 magnums made. Those few who have tasted the wine have been amazed by its quality, as was I when Pen visited this month and had dinner with me in New York for an interview. I found it a wine that would rank with the best in Pomerol and priced accordingly.

 

How were you involved in the wine business before becoming an estate owner and winemaker?

My family background is in agriculture, and I always knew that one day I would become a farmer and winemaker. The first 15 years of my professional life were spent in the airline industry, heading sales and marketing teams across Germany, France, Switzerland and the Netherlands. My most senior role was as a board member of Swiss International Airlines – which made it particularly gratifying, 20 years on, to see them serve Château Branas Grand Poujeaux in its First-Class lounges in Geneva and Zurich.

I spent a year at KLM before Air France acquired the company. This was in 2004 – a career crossroads and the ideal moment to return to my roots and search for my first terroir on which to grow grapes. My parents had moved to France when I was 18 and were living in Jurançon, but having grown up drinking red wines from Saint-Estèphe, my focus was firmly on Bordeaux, a region I have called home for the past 20 years.

The first property where I made wine, from 2005, was a small estate called Château Richelieu, in the under-the-radar Right Bank appellation of Fronsac. I co-owned it with a group of wine-loving shareholders, including my parents, before it was sold to an investor in 2011.

Château Branas Grand Poujeaux came into the picture shortly afterwards. I had long heard about the exceptional quality of the Grand Poujeaux plateau and had met Justin Onclin, owner since 2002,  who had invested heavily in both vineyard and cellar with the guidance of his friend, the late, great Michel Rolland.

Some background on Château Branas Grand Poujeaux: Grand Poujeaux is the name of the local village that several wineries have incorporated it into their labels. The word “Poujeaux” derives from Old French for “stony hill”; the land is slightly elevated. Justin Onclin purchased the estate in 2002, when it was comprised of just five parcels across six hectares. In 2006, following the death of a neighboring estate owner who had no heirs, he was able to acquire an additional seven exceptional hectares, including the prized Marpaout plot.

In 2019, a merger with Château Granins Grand Poujeaux brought the total to 25 hectares. The estate now consists of 25 individual parcels, each fermented separately in its own vat to preserve the distinct identity of each terroir. Justin Onclin has since retired and now serves as brand ambassador in Belgium. Today, I run the estate alongside Dutch businessman and majority shareholder, Hindrik Gommer.

All the vineyards lie on the celebrated Terrace No. 3 (T3) – the same geological platform as the vineyards of Lafite and Mouton Rothschild in Pauillac. The terrace, in geological terms, is a deep seam of Garonne gravel deposited roughly two million years ago. Topsoil and subsoil composition varies considerably from parcel to parcel, which is precisely why we ferment each one separately, to capture the distinct profile of each plot. On a map, our holdings resemble those of a Burgundian domaine: many small parcels scattered across the Moulis appellation. 

Marpaout is a new Merlot from the Left Bank, which has a soil rich in gravel and limestone, whereas the Right Bank, where most of the finest Merlot is made, is rich in clay. What is the composition of your vineyards?

The Marpaout parcel occupies what is sometimes called the “rooftop” of Terrace No. 3: at 25 meters above sea level, it occupies one of the highest positions in the area. The Marpaout vineyard was replanted in 2000 with Merlot, a variety that proved an ideal match for the terroir. With 4.5 meters depth, the parcel conceals a thick layer of blue clay, which gives the vines access to moisture during the hot summer months – critical for Merlot, a variety sensitive to water stress. Above that lies a layer of brownish clay, a small layer of grey sand with small river stones, and more than three meters of deep gravel and river stones, threaded throughout with a high concentration of oxidized iron – in French, “crasse de fer”. This iron plays a key role in photosynthesis, contributing to tannin quality and ripeness, as well as lending the wine its distinctive minerality.

Until recently, terroir specialists believed that the combination of blue clay and oxidized iron was unique to a small corner of the Pomerol plateau, but we now know that the rooftop of the Médoc’s Terrace No. 3 shares similar parameters, with a slightly higher concentration of iron. Marpaout also benefits from a cool microclimate, moderated by the proximity of the Atlantic Ocean and the Gironde Estuary. 

 

How was this small parcel of 1.7 hectares brought to your attention?

Hubert de Boüard and his team of oenologists have been working with Branas since 2012, before I joined the estate. Hubert and Philippe Nunes are both passionate winemakers and excellent sparring partners, helping us optimize decisions in the vineyard and cellar. With nearly 45 vintages at Château Angélus behind him, Hubert is an invaluable authority on Merlot.

In 2018, I was walking the vineyards with Hubert to discuss the optimal picking window for each parcel and variety (we grow Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and Petit Verdot). In the Marpaout vineyard, as he tasted the berries, Hubert told me that this Merlot was from another planet. At the time, I was still bound by the long tradition of blending, and it took time to appreciate that single-vineyard wines can also offer a true and maybe purer expression of a place.

Four years later, in a moment of conviction, I selected four barrels from the Marpaout vineyard. After 12 months in French oak, I decided to age the wine for a further 12 months in an Italian amphora, a choice that proved transformative. The amphora’s gentle stirring together with its micro-oxygenation fully integrated the oak tannins with those of the fruit, achieving something that barrel ageing alone could not.

The reception from critics and fellow winemakers has been beyond my wildest dreams.

 

There are many Bordeaux wineries owned by non-French. Did you find any resistance to being a foreigner and a newcomer?

Bordeaux has a long and international history, with many of its oldest estates developed and owned by Dutch, German, Scottish, Irish, and English families. That heritage dates back to the 17th century,  when, as it happens, my own ancestors were among the Dutch engineers who drained much of the Médoc – and it means that both foreigners and newcomers are well received here.

 

Early on some significant wine collectors and masters recognized the quality of Marpaout. Tell me of some of their remarks.

 

One early champion was Oliver Dixon, Fine Wine Director of MMI and Emirates. He  organized a dinner for ten private clients around the theme, “The Best Merlots in the World”. Having been poured alongside Masseto and Petrus, there was no question that Marpaout held its own among these greats.

Xavier Thuizat (former Head Sommelier at Hôtel de Crillon, Best Sommelier of France 2022, MOF 2022, Michelin Guide Sommelier Award 2024), was equally taken with the wine, writing that “We believe in the potential of Marpaout to become the next icon wine from Bordeaux.” 

It is these comments that reaffirm my conviction in the potential of this plot.

 

You seem to have sold most of your 2022 without the buyers even tasting wine. How did you achieve that and how can you ration out such a small supply of 900 bottles and 50 magnums?

 

Not all buyers purchased blind. A group of private collectors in Dubai tasted the wine before purchasing, as did a group of private collectors in Hong Kong. The majority of our other customers have placed their trust in their wine importer or distributor, and all exclusive importers had tasted Marpaout before committing to offering it to their clients. In smaller markets such as the Netherlands and Switzerland, allocations are as few as 24 bottles. Larger markets such as China and the USA have received allocations of 200 bottles.

 

 

Why did you not make a 2023 vintage?

In 2023, we lost more than half of our Merlot crop to the most severe mildew pressure in a century, compounded by a hailstorm. We decided not to produce Marpaout that year. There will definitely be a 2025. The 2024 is currently ageing in amphora, and we will make a decision at the end of the year as to whether we will release Marpaout.

 

Petrus makes 30,000 bottles on average per year, and L’Église-Clinet makes about 18,000. Won’t you have to increase production at least double or triple to make it profitable, and how much can you actually get from such a small parcel?

For now, we are content with the current volume – 900 bottles and 50 magnums. For the moment we do not plan to increase the production, we select the best barrels from the block. 

 

Where did you sell most of the 2022 wines––restaurants, wine stores, individuals––and in what countries?

We have sold Marpaout to a mix of private clients, leading restaurants and hotels, and premium retailers – across the China, France, Hong Kong, Italy, Netherlands, Switzerland, UAE, UK.

 

How did you come up with a price for the 2022s?

Following comparative tastings against its peers and conversations with several London-based wine merchants, we settled on a release price of €1,500 per bottle ex-VAT. This is a price we intend to hold across future vintages. Marpaout is not offered en primeur. Instead, it is released after bottling to a carefully selected group of fine wine importers and distributors. Private clients may join an allocation list.

 

 







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FOOD WRITING 101:  TAKE A DEEP BREATH

BEFORE WRITING A SENTENCE


"And there’s an intensity running through the whole menu that can feel like a response. A quarter cabbage appears like a deepwater fish, swimming in a silky, butter-rich yuzu sauce with an eye of treacly black garlic toum, its layers oozing with a witchy black purée of mushrooms. It is so elaborately constructed, pounding with flavor and texture, including that of the cabbage itself."––Tejal Rao, "Sqirl’s Dream of Los Angeles, Now at Dinnertime," NYTimes (6/10/26)

 

 





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 Any of John Mariani's books below may be ordered from amazon.com.



   The Hound in Heaven (21st Century Lion Books) is a  novella, and for anyone who loves dogs, Christmas, romance, inspiration, even the supernatural, I hope you'll find this to be a treasured  favorite. The  story concerns how, after a New England teacher, his wife and their two daughters adopt a stray puppy found in their barn in northern Maine, their lives seem full of promise. But when tragedy strikes, their wonderful dog Lazarus and the spirit of Christmas are the only things that may bring his master back from the edge of despair. 

WATCH THE VIDEO!

“What a huge surprise turn this story took! I was completely stunned! I truly enjoyed this book and its message.” – Actress Ali MacGraw

“He had me at Page One. The amount of heart, human insight, soul searching, and deft literary strength that John Mariani pours into this airtight novella is vertigo-inducing. Perhaps ‘wow’ would be the best comment.” – James Dalessandro, author of Bohemian Heart and 1906.


“John Mariani’s Hound in Heaven starts with a well-painted portrayal of an American family, along with the requisite dog. A surprise event flips the action of the novel and captures us for a voyage leading to a hopeful and heart-warming message. A page turning, one sitting read, it’s the perfect antidote for the winter and promotion of holiday celebration.” – Ann Pearlman, author of The Christmas Cookie Club and A Gift for my Sister.

“John Mariani’s concise, achingly beautiful novella pulls a literary rabbit out of a hat – a mash-up of the cosmic and the intimate, the tragic and the heart-warming – a Christmas tale for all ages, and all faiths. Read it to your children, read it to yourself… but read it. Early and often. Highly recommended.” – Jay Bonansinga, New York Times bestselling author of Pinkerton’s War, The Sinking of The Eastland, and The Walking Dead: The Road To Woodbury.

“Amazing things happen when you open your heart to an animal. The Hound in Heaven delivers a powerful story of healing that is forged in the spiritual relationship between a man and his best friend. The book brings a message of hope that can enrich our images of family, love, and loss.” – Dr. Barbara Royal, author of The Royal Treatment.




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The Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink by John F. Mariani (Bloomsbury USA, $35)

Modesty forbids me to praise my own new book, but let me proudly say that it is an extensive revision of the 4th edition that appeared more than a decade ago, before locavores, molecular cuisine, modernist cuisine, the Food Network and so much more, now included. Word origins have been completely updated, as have per capita consumption and production stats. Most important, for the first time since publication in the 1980s, the book includes more than 100 biographies of Americans who have changed the way we cook, eat and drink -- from Fannie Farmer and Julia Child to Robert Mondavi and Thomas Keller.


"This book is amazing! It has entries for everything from `abalone' to `zwieback,' plus more than 500 recipes for classic American dishes and drinks."--Devra First, The Boston Globe.

"Much needed in any kitchen library."--Bon Appetit.




Now in Paperback, too--How Italian Food Conquered the World (Palgrave Macmillan)  has won top prize  from the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards.  It is a rollicking history of the food culture of Italy and its ravenous embrace in the 21st century by the entire world. From ancient Rome to la dolce vita of post-war Italy, from Italian immigrant cooks to celebrity chefs, from pizzerias to high-class ristoranti, this chronicle of a culinary diaspora is as much about the world's changing tastes, prejudices,  and dietary fads as about our obsessions with culinary fashion and style.--John Mariani

"Eating Italian will never be the same after reading John Mariani's entertaining and savory gastronomical history of the cuisine of Italy and how it won over appetites worldwide. . . . This book is such a tasteful narrative that it will literally make you hungry for Italian food and arouse your appetite for gastronomical history."--Don Oldenburg, USA Today. 

"Italian restaurants--some good, some glitzy--far outnumber their French rivals.  Many of these establishments are zestfully described in How Italian Food Conquered the World, an entertaining and fact-filled chronicle by food-and-wine correspondent John F. Mariani."--Aram Bakshian Jr., Wall Street Journal.


"Mariani admirably dishes out the story of Italy’s remarkable global ascent to virtual culinary hegemony....Like a chef gladly divulging a cherished family recipe, Mariani’s book reveals the secret sauce about how Italy’s cuisine put gusto in gusto!"--David Lincoln Ross, thedailybeast.com

"Equal parts history, sociology, gastronomy, and just plain fun, How Italian Food Conquered the World tells the captivating and delicious story of the (let's face it) everybody's favorite cuisine with clarity, verve and more than one surprise."--Colman Andrews, editorial director of The Daily Meal.com.

"A fantastic and fascinating read, covering everything from the influence of Venice's spice trade to the impact of Italian immigrants in America and the evolution of alta cucina. This book will serve as a terrific resource to anyone interested in the real story of Italian food."--Mary Ann Esposito, host of PBS-TV's Ciao Italia.

"John Mariani has written the definitive history of how Italians won their way into our hearts, minds, and stomachs.  It's a story of pleasure over pomp and taste over technique."--Danny Meyer, owner of NYC restaurants Union Square Cafe,  The Modern, and Maialino.

                                                                             








              

MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET NEWSLETTER is published weekly.  Publisher: John Mariani. Editor: Walter Bagley. Contributing Writers: Christopher Mariani,  Misha Mariani, John A. Curtas, Gerry Dawes, Geoff Kalish. Contributing Photographer: Galina Dargery. Technical Advisor: Gerry McLoughlin.

 

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© copyright John Mariani 2026




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