The aromas are of raspberry tarts and ragu Bolognese, not room service, and the students’ faces are etched with sobriety and purpose, not the showbiz fakery of the Food Network. Hilton Library-you might be forgiven for thinking that the CIA is beholden to the commercial excesses of the hospitality industry. Willard Marriott Education Center, Conrad N. For when food is your religion, Hyde Park is your Vatican, and the Culinary Institute of America your St.
It will be a vacation, yes, but a working one, a chance for inspiration, solace and reconnection with a common faith, which is to say the religion of food.
In some ways, they are as unalike as the wayward paths they’ve followed-the mother-daughter duo from Jackson Hole, the North Carolina CEO, the retired military man, the Kansas banker-and yet the destination is the same, the town of Hyde Park, New York, two hours north of Manhattan, and a five-day retreat like none other. They’ve boarded planes to Albany, trains to Poughkeepsie, Priuses to the Hudson Valley. And a fourth’s greatest need, thus far unmet, is to throw one-just one-perfect dinner party.Īnd so they’ve journeyed here, 15 in all, from Romania and Reno and Rochester, from D.C. A third is ready to give up on cooking altogether, so awash is his family in dietary restrictions of the vegan, gluten-free, lactose-intolerant variety. Another wants to deepen his relationship with a wok. O ne of them can’t shake the uneasy feeling that she’s lost her way with beef Wellington.
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