Get Out Of Town!

Although I've been fending off the winter blues with numerous cups of cocoa, the latest subzero spell has drained me. Noticing my gloominess, my companion suggested that we rejuvenate ourselves with a bed-and-breakfast stay.

Armed with "Frommer's Wonderful Weekends from New York City" and the Internet, I set about finding an inn that was close to the LIRR. During my Web search, I happened upon the homepage of the Mill House Inn. I'd had a couple other places in mind for our excursion, but when I clicked on the Mill House breakfast menu, my mind was made up.

When we arrived, we were greeted by six canisters of cookies, a friendly dog named Corey, and Sylvia, the co-owner of the inn. Sylvia invited us to help ourselves to the cookies, and then led us into the dining room, which offered delicious hot cider, Mill House coffee and Bencheley tea. I accompanied my cider with homemade chocolate-chip and double chocolate-chip cookies. My mood was beginning to lighten (if not my weight). While I was munching, a guest sang the praises of the Mill House morning meal. "It's legendary," she said, "but you can only enjoy it if you're staying here. I'm meeting a real estate broker, and he asked me if he could pretend to be my guest just so he could have the breakfast." I couldn't wait for Sunday morning.

An invigorating scrub with honey-lemongrass soap and a soak in a lavender-scented whirlpool bath were a wonderful prelude to a nap under a goose-down comforter. (Later, we roused ourselves for an exquisite dinner at Della Femina. This restaurant is truly a subject for another post, but I must mention in passing their astonishing banana chocolate-chip croissant bread pudding. I'd never eaten a bread pudding made from croissants, and the flaky dough added extra butter to what was already a decadent treat.)

The next morning, we made sure to wake up by 10, as the brunch at Mill House is served only until 10:30. In the dining room, the four round wooden tables were festooned with poinsettias, and sunlight streamed through the windows. Smiling, I picked up my menu, to be met with the most daunting breakfast decision ever. I craved eggs, but did I want them scrambled with house-cured salmon, mascarpone, Vidalia onions and asparagus, or in egg nog form in the three-slice brioche French toast, or in a crawfish Andouille etoufee, or fried with chorizo, ancho, chipotle and pasillo peppers and tortillas, or how about in a five-cheese (mozzarella, grana padano, mascarpone, ricotta salata and Parmigiano Reggiano) frittata? And if I didn't want eggs, there were blueberry pancakes with Vermont maple syrup, grilled sandwiches, even three kinds of pizza!

With a bit of gracious guidance from Sylvia, we finally decided on the Irish oatmeal, green eggs and ham, scrambled eggs gratin, homefries and toast. We were first served a selection of fresh fruits with Champagne mint honey syrup (excellent over the blackberries).

Then it was time for... the best breakfast I can remember eating. Satisfyingly chewy Irish oatmeal arrived with a stripe of sweet berry compote and hot milk. My eggs gratin was a casserole of soft, Gruyere-gooey scrambled eggs, topped with snipped chives, shredded Parmigiano Reggiano and a sprinkling of breadcrumbs over a layer of caramelized onions and leeks, and then another layer of eggs. My companion's green eggs and ham, also served in a casserole, was quite generous with the Canadian bacon, spinach and Brie. The homemade sweet-tart ketchup was tasty, but the amazing Yukon Gold homefries needed no condiments. The crunchy-soft potato cubes were browned in olive oil and white wine and seasoned with garlic and thyme. And I couldn't even finish the hearty seven-grain toast and Vermont farm butter.

Our spirits lifted, and our bodies nutritionally fortified against any possible weather conditions, we packed up and made a note to return again soon.

The Mill House Inn: 31 North Main St., East Hampton, (631) 324-9766.

Four Reasons To Go Outside

As my hands turned red and my eyelashes threatened to freeze together, I chastised myself for venturing out into the Arctic weather. However, it was just then that I noticed a sign advertising four kinds of hot chocolate (orange, mint, praline and cinnamon)! The sign belonged to Manon Cafe, a cafe owned by Leonidas Chocolate.

I'm rather particular about hot chocolate. A regular cup of cocoa won't do... no powdered hydrogenated vegetable oil or flavored corn syrup for me! I need the real thing: melted squares of rich chocolate, smoothly blended with steamed milk. On several occasions, I have greatly enjoyed Leonidas' chocolate truffles, so I decided to try my luck with their hot chocolate.

I walked past the truffle display and up the steps to the cafe. Behind the counter, I saw what appeared to be bottles of flavored syrup. Disappointed, I asked the cashier if the syrups provided the flavors for the advertised hot chocolate.

"No!" he exclaimed. "Our hot chocolate is made only with squares of our pure Leonidas chocolate, blended with hot milk."

That clinched it. I ordered a large "Manon Mint" hot chocolate, which was thrillingly rich and creamy. The cup warmed my hands and the hot chocolate warmed my insides, making my trip outside thoroughly worthwhile.

Manon Cafe: 3 Hanover Square, (212) 422-9600.

Centolire

My grandmother, who frequented Elio's for years, has recently grown tired of the noisy room, the haphazard service, and the crush of patrons waiting at the bar. I know how much she loves her red-sauce Italian, so I set about finding a replacement.

Centolire, also on the Upper East Side, is a perfect alternative. The restaurant, so large that it previously housed an elementary school, offers plenty of room in which to breathe. We've been several times now, and we love the magical upstairs dining room.

We knew we were in for a treat when we first stepped off of the elevator onto the second floor. In the center of the golden-lit room was a large wooden table on which sat a large wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano, a prosciutto-slicer, a cutting board with slices of Italian salami, and a bowl of fresh cantaloupe. The well-appointed table and the cozy corner bar made us feel like we were in the dining room of a beloved friend.

The service was as welcoming as the atmosphere. Our gracious waiter brought by a complementary bowl of olive-oil drizzled peppered ricotta and a basket of focaccia. While we munched and deliberated over the menu, the table next to us enjoyed tableside preparations of truffled fettucini carbonara and Caesar salad.

Our chosen indulgences were the special three-bean greens soup, a wondrously garlicky clams in white wine sauce appetizer, breaded veal milanese (as big as a pizza) accompanied by sweet roasted baby Brussels sprouts, and a slightly browned pan-seared meaty organic striped bass. There was a slight delay with my entree, so the lovely manager, Gianfranco, threw in a free dessert: a thick slice of pound cake covered with creamy mascarpone mousse and a tumble of fresh strawberries! (We also loved the tiramisu. For those with foresight, a chocolate-mocha souffle is available if you order it at the beginning of the meal.) Not surprisingly, I am now a loyal patron.

Centolire: 1167 Madison Ave., (212) 734-7711.

Sympathy For The Kettle

Every so often, there's a newspaper article touting the health benefits of tea. Although I've yet to see a similar article about the benefits of truffles and pound cake, I quite enjoy the tea-flavored treats at Sympathy For The Kettle.

The funky East Village tearoom doesn't have much space in which to sit down, but it's chock-full of goodies like vanilla rooibos rose buttercream cake, lavender bars, rose truffles, orange apricot rooibos bread and bergamot-flecked, citrusy Earl Grey-iced pound cake. And if you want to bake your own goodies, there are over a hundred varieties of loose tea you can take home to experiment with!

Sympathy For The Kettle: 109 St. Marks Place, (212) 979-1650.

Read It And Eat...

This book looks like it's worth its weight in pastrami.

Lombardi's Original Pizza

Lespinasse and La Caravelle are long gone, but the coal-fired oven at Lombardi's Original Pizza keeps on chugging. I'm ashamed to admit that until last night, I hadn't yet visited this venerable pizzeria, which is the oldest in the United States. (The famous oven proudly sports the year "1905" in blue tile. Nostalgics will appreciate the old-time atmosphere and memorabilia; one could say that Lombardi's is a "slice" of old New York.)

Recently, Lombardi's underwent a renovation and expansion that will better accommodate its hordes of diners. Last night, my friends and I were soon seated at a round table in the newer front room.

I was immediately impressed with the toppings menu, which was more extensive than that of my local favorite, Nick's Pizza. The oven-roasted red peppers appealed to me, and the white pizza with clams sounded intriguing. We ordered the clam pizza and a traditional tomato pie, half pepperoni and half peppers.

The clam pizza was pleasantly garlicky, topped with breadcrumbs, Parmesan and a veritable avalanche of clams. Actually, I think that the amount of clams detracted from the pizza, and some of them were rubbery and overly chewy.

I then turned my attention to the more traditional pizza. In order to enthrall me, a red pizza must pass three tests: the sauce must not be too sweet, there should be a generous layer of fresh mozzarella, and, most important: the crust should be tasty enough to eat by itself.

The sauce definitely passed muster; the San Marzano tomatoes made it vibrantly flavorful. I also enjoyed the sweet red peppers. However, the cheese was missing some of the fresh, milky quality that I find at Nick's and Franny's. (Nick's Pizza has fresh mozzarella prepared especially for them every other day, and Franny's uses the unimpeachable Lioni's.) And when I looked at my companion's plate, large pieces of charred crust remained on it. (Some people gripe about the slightly charred crust at Nick's, but at Lombardi's, the charring was decidedly more pronounced.)

Still, the piping hot pizza was definitely enjoyable; I'd return just to try all the other toppings!

Lombardi's Original Pizza: 32 Spring St., (212) 941-7994.

Sweets News

The cream puff craze has spread to the Upper East Side! Just five days ago, the Choux Factory opened up on 1st Avenue and 87th Street. Besides serving cream puffs filled with rich vanilla, strawberry and chocolate custards, the Choux Factory offers terrific Kona coffee.

Choux Factory: 1685 1st Ave., (212) 289-2023.