Mise en place.

Most everyday I reference past Art Culinaire editions. I'll find the information I need, and presumably, tuck the book back in the archives.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

But this day was different.

Maybe it was the cold afternoon. Perhaps procrastination had set in. Whatever it was, I wound up parked on the office floor surrounded by stacks of our issues--pouring through the past. The more I looked, the more critical I became--it was as if I was a line judge at a tennis match--back and forth through the pages, weighing in with a call for each dish.

This dish looked dated.

That one had more garnish than food!

Was this for one person?

What was this? I didn't know!

Lately I had been inundated with pictures depicting--what appeared to be--perfect food. On perfect white plates. Set against a perfectly-white background. They were lean. Mean. Clean.

Had food always seemed so antiseptic? So sterile? Maybe I had walked the aisles of too many grocery stores lately--the kind that don't smell like food.

Food that isn't perfect-looking, but is intricate, clever and tastes great--should we exclude it from the magazine?

For those few hours on the floor, I couldn't decipher what was more important, sound, effective and impactful. Had I become too harsh a judge?

There was nineteen years of history in front of me. Food that followed the times and the trends. Chefs who deviated. Chefs with different drifts.

Three ends of the spectrum in Sonoma county--simple but significant foods from that region served up in three very different settings.

Dust to dust. Two chefs. One influenced by Italian, the other with African origins.

A chef with roots in Ancona. Another into Asian-fusion. Both play with Kobe.

And chocolate--we see that it can be more than just sweet.

That diversity--certainly--should be celebrated, not always camouflaged--in perfection.