To27's social roadmap to the Hamptons

Robert Stillen and Classic Hamptons Style

Katie Beckmann — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 19:02:42 +0000

Recently, I stumbled upon the professional website of interior designer, Robert Stilin, and spent the majority of an afternoon swooning over his design portfolio. If you’re not familiar with his work, you may remember this famous cook’s kitchen that he designed a few years ago…

Of course, the famous foodie that works in this gorgeous space is none other than Ina Garten, the one and only Barefoot Contessa and otherwise food genius. Ina always keeps the focus on the food, and the people that you share the food with… she’s non-intimidating and friendly.

It’s Free to Look Hamptons: 127 Main Street, East Hampton

Katie Beckmann — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 18:47:55 +0000

This is a true real estate miracle. One twenty-seven Main Street has been transformed from a mess to a modest $29 million piece of property, fresh on the market, waiting for a buyer.

From a piece of junk to an expensive Hamptons jewel, how did they do it?

“It was completely run-down,” Tim Davis, a real-estate agent for Corcoran in Southampton, told the Wall Street Journal earlier this summer. “It was really quite a mess.”

The property was originally designed by the Architectural firm Wyeth and King and built in the late 1930s for Robert Lion Gardiner, apparently one of East Hamptons most prominent residents, the Corcoran listing says.

75 Main Restaurant Review

Katie Beckmann — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 20:24:20 +0000

By Alexis Petras, Contributing Writer

It seems to me, 75 Main has been around as long as I can remember, and it is also seems like it is always reinventing itself. This time, I can say with some confidence, after speaking with the new owner, Zach Erdem, that they got it right!

Zach, came here only eight years ago from Turkey, and as soon as he arrived, the first place he stumbled upon was 75 Main, where he quickly landed a job as a bartender. Fast forward eight years, and his dream to be the owner, has just come true. He brings with him a younger, hipper vibe, maybe one he acquired while working as a manager at Nello’s for six years. Hence, a more modern, cleaner aesthetic was created with a display of great photograpy, by Raphael Inazzucco and Chris Brown, that definitely contributes to the relaxed sophistication and atmosphere at 75 Main.

Just drive down Main Street on any given afternoon, and you will see it is the busiest restaurant in town. With it’s fresh seasonal menu, white tablecloths, classical music and the best place to people watch, East of Manhattan that is. If you are not at the beach, well this is where to see and be seen while enjoying a selection from their great lunch menu of soups, salads, paninis, burgers, pasta, seafood and steak entrees.

Chef Mathew Lewis, formerly of George Martins, keeps the patrons coming back for more, day and night, before the party gets started. With Tequila Night, every Tuesday, and $2 shots, Thursdays is Ladies night with complimentary drinks between 10-11:30pm, Friday a guest DJ from NYC spins and Saturday is St. Tropez Night, with DJ Lee Kalt running the party.

Stay tuned, when Zach opens his new restaurant, ultra nightclub & lounge, called Zeyno’s, in the MPD, an 8,000 sq. ft bi-level space right next door to Bagatelle….Manhattan & the Hampton-the best of both worlds collide!

Wine Snob or Wine Diva… Doesn’t Matter

Katie Beckmann — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 14:40:05 +0000

By Damian Hartner, Contributing Writer

There are hosts of generally offensive things that you can say about someone. You can tell them that you could smell them coming from down the hall or that they look robust or that they are too dark (or light) to be paired with your other dinner guests. Speaking of dinner, there are a bunch of generally offensive things you could say about someone’s cooking. You can tell them that it tastes like earth or wood or tobacco. You could tell them that it is dry. Or you could say that the first thing that hit you was the pungent smell.

But, in the great world of wine, all of these things could be and often are taken as a complement. Pop the cork on a 15 year-old Bordeaux and the whole room fills with the smell of the wine. Pour it into the decanter and it looks robust. Serve it with fish and it is way too dark for your table. Just for the record, it requires a nice butter finished porter house steak. And, of course, the Bordeaux will taste earthy, oaky, have a hint of tobacco, and be a dry wine. I dare say that a bottle fitting that description would earn a solid 90+ from Robert Parker, if the man rated anything other than Zinfandel these days. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Interestingly, this past week, July 26 – August 1 was “Riesling Week”. Riesling rounds out the top 3 white grapes grown in the world. The other two are Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc. The grape is much more versatile than either Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc. The Riesling wines range from Dry (trocken) to sweet (Kabinett) and there are some excellent sparkling Rieslings around as well. Riesling can be grown in many places as the grape is pretty hearty, but the German Rhine Region and the French Alsace Regions are the places that make the best. Riesling is terrior-expressive meaning that it takes on many of the characteristics of the soil in which it is grown. So, a California Riesling is very different from the European varieties. Most Riesling is finished in stainless steel – and so “oaky” is not usually going to happen – I don’t think I’ve ever tasted an oaked Riesling.

So, go out and grab a nice bottle of Riesling. I suggest a trocken Riesling from the Rhine Region in Germany. Then, grill up some fish and summer vegetables, crack open that bottle and enjoy. Maybe get one of the sweeter bottles for dessert. Hmmm, maybe you should just pick up two of each bottle… just in case.

The Hamptonienne and the Montaukette

Katie Beckmann — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 17:17:39 +0000

“Fictional and indulgent beach reads to remove you from the 9 to 5 state of mind…to the To27 state of mind.”

The Fabulous Author by the Atlantic

I work an average of 10 hours a week more than my friends, including Tabitha. Her reasons for overtime usually involve a nightclub opening or a book launch party. So when Nikki crumbled in Miami, I cursed and clenched my teeth vicariously through Tabitha. I believe she and I shared a tacit agreement that I needed this vacation more than anyone, so I blocked Nikki’s tantrums out and just enjoyed every moment dancing by myself in electric Miami.

One night, when Nikki cried drunk at South Beach’s Gansavoort (who cries at a rooftop lounge?), I did make the observation that she is a beautiful crier. Tears gloss and enlarge her almond eyes and blubbering swells her lips only slightly. I don’t have that luxury. My whole face turns beet-red and my nostrils flare with every whimper. After four years of dealing with my boss Patty’s public scrutiny and worse, her condescending tone of speech, I managed to leave work tear-free everyday. But after my annual review, when I was passed for a promotion and given a measly raise, I cried my face to its ugliest point.

Absorbing some writing inspiration from the beautiful ocean, and my crazy girlfriends.

That day Frank came home early and before placing his messenger bag down or taking off his jacket, he sat down and held my hands. “Baby, just quit. Go to Miami with the girls and when you come back, move to New York with me. Start your job hunt from there. My company will take care of me and I’ll take care of you, Leila.”

I did enjoy Miami but thoughts of leaving the #1 newspaper in Boston with no job lined up in New York City plagued me while I sunbathed. So did flashbacks of my most miserable days at the old office. Patty Rubenstein, managing political editor for The Boston Courant, never liked me. Not because I was a bad reporter, I won our paper a New England Broadcasters Association award within my first year there. The dislike was not professional, but personal. She was in her late thirties and still dating a string of unpromising men. She wasn’t unattractive but just a frigid woman who loved to talk only politics. Who could ever fall in love with her? It was widely known her dislike, or jealousy, towards me became more apparent after Frank and I got engaged earlier this year.

An editor told me Patty scoffed at my ring when I was absent during a morning meeting. “If you can’t afford a decent ring then you can’t afford to get married.” (The ring was my late mother’s, and it is exactly what I wanted.) Two days later she showed up at the office showing off a new chunky sapphire from David Yurman. It was the most tasteless, gaudiest ring of sparkling navy blue I ever saw.

I moved to New York and didn’t mind that Frank’s mother hired a decorator to furnish our Upper West Side apartment before we even arrived. He started at his office’s New York branch while I commenced an aggressive job hunt. After three weeks, not even a single rejection letter from an employer appeared in my mailbox. Besides hopeless, I began to feel bored and lonely in this new city. Luckily, Krissy’s father knew the editor of The Hampton Sun newspaper. He hired me as a freelance writer to cover local town halls, and on occasion, galas and events. Tabitha gave me the keys to her mansion’s pool house, where I stay when I am on assignment. She also connected me to Hampton Life Magazine, where the editor agreed to pay me small bucks to write some beach fiction for the website. I have covered political journalism for so long, so writing bite-sized literature would be a revitalizing break from the beat of corruption, scandals and finger-pointing.

I am sitting at Tabitha’s sunlit guest house, trying to remember everything Prof. Mulligan taught me during my creative writing course at Syracuse. “Don’t allude so much to your life,” the acclaimed author would say. “Don’t write your auto-biography. Draw stories from your own imagination. Avoid the self-referential.”

It took me about thirty minutes to write my review for a fundraiser in Bridgehampton, but when it came to my “Belle of the Beach” column, I am stuck with a blank page. I close my laptop and drive to East Hampton to shop for a bit. Frank would be taking the LIRR this evening after a long work week, so wearing a form-fitting sundress would serve as the perfect welcome wagon. While browsing the tunics and halter dresses at Intermix, I realize profligate spending while I work freelance without health benefits, mooch off my best friend’s beach house and largely depend on my fiancé’s income wouldn’t be very classy of me. So I figured a small treat from Dylan’s Candy Bar would be reasonable. I scoop plenty of chocolate pretzels into a bag and at the checkout line, I spot a blueberry Ring Pop. I drive back to Tabitha’s and take one of her empty David Yurman jewelry gift boxes. I place the Ring Pop into the velvet-lined box and with no hesitation, FedEx it to a Miss Patty Rubensteen. I know karma will probably bite back, but the overwhelming support from Frank and my friends makes me feel invincible.

For the rest of noon, I settle at Montauk Beach on a beach chair with my laptop. I thought about the past few months. I followed my gut and finally garnered courage to leave an unfulfilling job. In Miami, I rediscovered my love for dancing with nothing more than one diluted cocktail in my system. Overall, I gave myself kudos for remaining fun and spontaneous, even as I prepare to make that full transition to adulthood. Years of nonstop work and my soon-to-be marriage hasn’t pushed me to the dull side, which has been an ongoing fear since I turned 21. I am still me and Frank seems to keep bringing out the very best in me. I feel sexier and more fearless than ever.

At the beach, I think of my friends one by one. Tabitha’s love triangle, Krissy’s reunion, Nikki’s heartache. Despite the travails of time and distance, and the frightening clashes sprinkled in between, the four of us have remained like sisters long after we drove away from campus. I will likely call Nikki while I wait for Frank’s train this evening.

I looked at the blank document on my screen and thought of Prof. Mulligan’s creative writing philosophy. My professor was wrong, only the self-referential could inspire such a prodigal summer of writing that I already foresee. I think deeper of everyone’s start off to summer, then absorb my beautiful surroundings. Yes, not alluding to my own life would be quite impossible while I live in this East End backdrop. Today the surf is extremely violent and no one is allowed to swim. But just past the terrifying waves and towards the horizon, everything looks still and peaceful, and the sun is scintillating off the most calming, magnificent sea of sparkling navy blue I ever saw.

The Hottest Party of the Summer

Katie Beckmann — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 15:42:12 +0000

By Alexis Petras, Contributing Writer

Last Saturday night was my friend, Dr. Carl’s Annual House Party & Birthday Bash, in Sag Harbor.

Carl and I grew up together and I had the pleasure of living in his beautiful Post-Modern six bedroom house for four years. Carl is not just my friend, everyone knows Carl. If you have ever really partied in places, both near and far, like NY, the Hamptons, Miami, Vegas, LA or Rio, St. Tropez, Mykonos, Sardinia and Ibiza, of course, well then you know Carl, too.

This was his eighth annual soiree and it does not get much better than this-so if you weren’t there-well, make sure you are on his list or mine, next year. What made this year’s party so exceptional was a combination of beautiful people, great food, amazing music, and a breathtaking setting…..

He recently completed, what appears to be a million dollar landscape renovation, on his three acre property in North Side Hills, which included a new hot tub, beautifully hand-cut stone walls, a custom built fire pit and a state-of-the-art outdoor kitchen. Add some hip lounge furniture by the pool, and the stage was set for the perfect party!

Several hundred guests came to eat, drink and dance the night away while listening to the great mixes by my favorite DJ, DJ Savas, of Trata fame, who was spinning. Once again, Carl hired private chef Roger Weidemann (rogersuperchef@yahoo.com) who almost sole handedly, prepared and served grilled lobsters and steaks, lemon-ginger marinated Chilean sea bass, mussels marinara, jumbo shrimp cocktail, penne alla vodka, grilled vegetables, great salads and more. After the feast , the party “spilled” into the pool and well, you know the rest, it’s kinda like Vegas…

Wine Snob or Wine Diva… Doesn’t Matter

Katie Beckmann — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 22:57:38 +0000

By Damian Hartner, Contributing Writer

There is a fine line between Saturday night and Sunday morning. For example, it is perfectly acceptable to drink a mixed drink on Saturday night but wine seems only acceptable on Sunday morning… in church, of course… even in New York City you cannot go out and buy yourself a bottle of hard alcohol or wine before noon on a Sunday. However, stroll up 9th Avenue from about 23rd street to about 75th street and you’ll find plenty of places willing to pour you a mimosa or bellini starting at around 9am – earlier if you can show a stamp from one of the neighboring clubs you likely just stumbled out of.

But, back to the mixed drinks. The fact is that the original mixed drink was wine. The original mixologists were the French winemakers. You could argue Greek but first you would have to provide me with a bottle of Greek wine that I’d actually consider drinking. No, really, get mad and send it to me.

The French, it seems, got sick of going through the process of growing, harvesting, crushing/destemming (way before there were those cool crusher/destemmer machines), fermenting, aging, and bottling a bunch of Cabernet Sauvignon grapes only to have them taste great one year and like bidet water the next. And, so they just divided the country up into a bunch of regions and named them things like Burgundy, Bordeaux, Champagne, Loire, Rhone, etc… and grew a bunch (pun intended) of grapes there of all different varieties. Granted, most regions have a primary grape but all of them have the “mixing” grape. This gave the leeway to mix in a slightly sweeter grape in a year where your harvest was a bit sour or vice versa. Then things got scientific when the winemaker got interested in Brix (sugar content), pH, acidity, alcohol percent, etc…

The new world wines initially ignored the old world. California grew Zinfandel. Australia and New Zealand did Sauvignon Blanc, Argentina grows Malbec, Spain grows Tempranillo and the list goes on. This left the winemaker with few choices of what to do with a bunch of sour grapes. For example, what would happen if there was a terrible growing season in California for Zinfandel… you can’t mix in Cabernet Franc if you didn’t grow any. And, so, in those early days, the winemaker would just add sugar or not include the skins and viola, the wine would sell! And, God forgive them, but that is how we ended up with “White Zinfandel”. Again, you would have to provide me with a bottle of White Zinfandel that I’d actually consider drinking. Go ahead and get mad, but, please DO NOT send me any White Zinfandel.

Alas, California has come into its own. May of the bottles produced out of Napa and Sonoma are varietals – from a single grape – from a single year. Some of them are even estate grown – meaning all the grapes came from the winery itself. Some are single vineyard – meaning that even though they weren’t all grown on the estate that they were all from one vineyard. But, there is a movement to blend up some very tasty wines to make sure there is high quality product from year to year.

The French have the AOC that ensures the purchaser/drinker of the wine that the bottle was certified by the French government as coming from that region and is made up of a majority of grapes from that region. Not too long ago, California winemakers began an informal designation to let the purchaser/drinker of the wine know that the wine is a high-quality blend of grapes from a given region. They are calling this designation “Meritage”… pronounced like “Heritage”.

So, yes, in case you were worried, now you can have your “mixed” drink and go to church too!

The Elegant Hostess

Katie Beckmann — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 20:35:12 +0000

By Stephanie Finkelstein, The Elegant Hostess, Contributing Writer

A Scoop Of The Hamptons

One of my favorite summer treats is a great big ice cream cone, topped with hot fudge and whipped cream and sprinkles and, of course, a cherry! To me, there’s nothing better than an evening stroll in the Hamptons with a cone from one of my favorite treat shops.

If you’re out this way and looking for a fix, check out some of my favorites!

Carvel Ice Cream
Whenever my husband and I are near Bridgehampton, I try to get him to stop at Carvel… “Come onnnnnnnnn, let’s go!” And he usually relents. Which is a good thing, because nothing beats their soft serve vanilla with hard sauce and cookie crunch. A little tip, though: have the girl put the cookie crunch under the hard sauce. It gets messy and difficult to eat, but it’s sooooooo good!

Of course, if you’re having a party, the Fudgie the Whale cake is delicious too!

Sip’N Soda
On Hampton Road in Southampton, you’ll find Sip’N Soda, a lunch counter that hasn’t changed since it opened in 1958. Try the banana and peach ice cream — they’re both homemade and they’re both delicious! And try to get there before I do… my husband often has to remind me to “leave some for everybody else!” Order by the pint or by the scoop!

Sant Ambroeus
On Main Street in Southampton, right across from my shop, is Sant Ambroeus, home of a delicious selection of handmade gelato straight from Italy. My current favorite is a combination of one scoop coconut, one scoop strawberry

But I’m always on the lookout for new ice cream parlors! What did I miss? What’s your favorite?

Stephanie Finkelstein is a gift expert and owner of The Elegant Setting, the premier gift shop in the Hamptons. Read more at TheElegantSetting.com or follow her on Facebook!

DESIGN:redefined

Katie Beckmann — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 18:29:04 +0000

By Alexis Petras, Contributing Writer

HB Home

Last Saturday night, a cocktail reception was held at the new HB Home Design Studio, in Easthampton, for artist, Patricia Gutierrez, whose installation will be on display for a while as they also bring in works from various emerging artists. I had previously committed to attending my good friend, Dr. Carl’s party that night and was not able to go. However, I was glad to have had an opportunity to stop in for a visit earlier in the day to chat with designers, Pat and Dan, about all their new creative endeavors….

When founders Pat Healing and Daniel Barsanti, opened their fourth retail design studio, they brought with them a design aesthetic that resonates well with Hamptons residence, timeless sophistication + modern sensibility. Their mantra that everyone should be able to achieve luxe, individualized looks for the home is revealed in the very distinct vignettes which display an eclectic mix of both vintage and modern pieces.

Their passion for design has also inspired them to create a new furniture line, manufactured by Kindall, exclusively for HB Home, that represents a very updated and fresh approach to traditional designs. In addition, they have designed a small collection of handmade, ceramic Christopher Spitzmiller lamps, that are now available in their retail stores.

What I found to be particularly interesting and chic, were these tables made of lucite blocks, that encased “floating” branches of birch and French elm. I also loved the blue and white bone inlay cocktail table from India, which can be custom ordered in a waterfall or parsons design, in various color and pattern variations.

Next weekend, when the Hampton Designer Showhouse opens in Sag Harbor, you will have an opportunity to view the work of these Connecticut based design talents, as you enter the foyer and proceed to the living room of the house, which is just another project Pat and Dan were involved in this year, after the opening of their NYC and Easthampton locations.

Wine Snob or Wine Diva… Doesn’t Matter

Katie Beckmann — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 03:09:34 +0000

By Damian Hartner, Contributing Writer

2010 has provided quite a spectacle, so far, when it comes to sporting events. There are the “normal” events that we cherish in the United States – The SuperBowl, the College Football Bowl Games, the College Basketball “March Madness” Playoffs, the start of Baseball season and Basektball season, The French and Australian Opens, and Wimbeldon. But we also got to witness the Winter Olympics and, recently, the World Cup.

And, who is the most unlikely, and arguably tasty hero to emerge from the World Cup? Paul… an Octopus! This creature, when presented with an option to spend the next 90 minutes plus an indeterminate amount of time floating in a tank emblazoned with what would be either the winner or loser of the current match’s flag managed to choose to swim in the winning tank 8 times in a row! He may have a career as a lottery number picking consultant.

Alas, I like my octopus marinated for a few days and then grilled to perfection and served over a light salad accompanied by a glass of wine… or two. Octopus is easy to pick – if you are in Manhattan, just go to Barbounia (http://www.barbounia.com/#pageID=824) on 20th and Park. Find a good seat at the bar and order the octopus appetizer. You’ll not need much more than that to eat. Of course, you’ll want to select a nice glass of wine to accompany your grilled cephalopod. And, that is much trickier.

Selecting a glass of wine is a little easier than selecting a bottle. Like a date, this isn’t a long term commitment. First of all, you are only agreeing to one glass (one evening/dinner/coffee/whatever). Even if it is so horrid that you cannot finish the glass (take them home), you can alert the bar tender (call a friend) and ask for something else and then (run like hell), even if they charge you (you pay the bill), you are only out $10 (one dinner) or so. Additionally, the list of glasses from which to select is usually much shorter than the bottle list. Here is a tip when selecting a glass of wine: If you enter a bar and you ask what kind of wines they have by the glass and the reply is, “Red, White, and White Zinfandel” then drink a gin and tonic. Otherwise, just go with the bartender’s choice – unless of course the bartender always picks the most expensive glass… then choose your own adventure.

But, selecting a bottle is much more difficult. Like a long(er) term relationship, you should take greater care as you will be stuck with this decision for a while and it should be something that you enjoy and that doesn’t tempt you to go running out for a different glass of wine every once in a while. First, know your criteria. Does the label need to be pretty? Does the wine need to smell good? Is it okay that it isn’t perfect right now but promises to improve with age? How easily should the cork come out… are we talking corkscrew, champagne, or screw cap? How expensive is your taste? Second, pick your color. Do you prefer white, red, or something in the middle? Third, pick your personality. Bubbly? The strong silent type, deep and dark, light and fruity, effervescent. Remember that this is nothing wrong with sampling all of them – but that is what tasting flights and glasses are for – we are talking bottle here. Finally, fourth, pick your country and region. A Spanish conquistador, a French countryman, a punctual German, a down under Bloke/Sheila, or a laid back Californian.

Once you have narrowed down all your requirements, put them in your match profile… um, I mean, open the wine list and find the 3 – 5 bottles that match most of your criteria. Then, call the sommelier or bartender over or ask your friends which one is best for you. Order, pop the cork, enjoy… no regrets.

To celebrate the Spanish world cup victory, I’m going to head out to Barbounia, order the Octopus, and have a nice deep dark red Rioja.