The Book

A collector's piece, for the kitchen.

Printed and bound in Italy. Made once, for one family or one house. Kept where the cooking happens, opened, cooked from and handed down.

The Hartwell
Kitchen
Est. 1952
Recipes and stories from one family's table
For Eleanor, who kept the lid on
The title page.
Christmas Eve, the kitchen on Elm Street.
The family, across two pages.
From the top: Eleanor's parents, 1951. Eleanor and Walter at La Flor, 1968. The pasta, drying. The Sunday pot. Her hands.
Nobody was allowed to lift the lid. Not even my husband.
Eleanor Hartwell
The archive, and what she said.
Chapter I
Sundays
The table on Elm Street, after mass, for as long as anyone can remember. The sauce went on before church. By noon the whole street knew.
A chapter opens.
Sundays
My mother started the sauce before we left for church. She never wrote it down. She said you could tell it was done by the color of the oil on top.
When I married Walter, she made me stand at the stove with her every Sunday for a year. I thought it was about the sauce. It was about the Sundays.
Now the grandchildren call to ask how long it goes. I tell them what she told me: until it's ready.
The story, from the interview.
The signature dish
Sunday Ragù
On the stove before church, on the table by one. Seventy years, three kitchens, the same pot.
Wine Pairing
Chianti Classico Riserva
Tuscany
“It has the acidity to stand up to the tomato and the pork, and enough fruit to keep the table going after the plates are cleared. Open it when the sauce goes on.”
Ana
The signature dish, and our sommelier's wine.