I didn't mean to give this newsletter an Italian theme, it just happened that way. (Actually, I'll be getting quite an Italian groove on over the coming months, working on a blog and book project with Ron Post and Ilyse Rathet, owners of Ritrovo, importers of many supremely delicious and unique artisan food products from Italy. More on that another time.)

A stop in Naples wasn't the only reason we chose the cruise itinerary that we did for this spring, but once we'd confirmed our passage, I had Neapolitan pizza on the brain. It follows directly from my introduction to Via Tribunali, Seattle's primo pizzeria on Capitol Hill, with a new location on Queen Anne. In the course of writing about VT when they opened, I learned the place was named for a street in Naples where pizza reigns supreme. I've been transfixed on that fact ever since, and it became a fact I wanted to check in person.

Our ship, the MS Veendam, pulled into Naples bright and early on a Sunday morning early May. After our morning excursion to Pompeii (phenomenal, so moving) we returned to town, where things were relatively quiet: few shops open, the city in a leisurely, stroll-about mood. Thankfully, Via Tribunali was a very walkable 8-10 blocks from port. And while the street wasn't operating at max capacity, there were a number of pizza joints operating this Sunday.

The photo here shows Di Matteo, one of the classics on Via Tribunali. The crowd is waiting for seats to open in the simple, bustling dining room inside. But they also sell small pizzas and other street food from the counter you see, behind which is the well-fed wood fired oven. I bought one of the margherita pizzas, one Euro each, which they fold into quarters and wrap in a piece of paper, almost like a crepe. They guy before me wanted his folded only in half, so clearly stylist influences come into play. It was a delicious, messy treat, the sauce on the chunky, somewhat wet side, but delicious. It got me halfway to pizza heaven.

Just around the corner from one end of Via Tribunali is Pizzeria Bellini and we settled in there for lunch. We were seated at a patio table, under their bright red awning, with a partial view of the Piazza Bellini, a lovely gardened square surrounding a statue of the famous composer.

Glancing at the tables around us, I began to lust for what other people were eating. Platters of fritto misto (seafood and vegetables perfectly deep fried), shallow bowls of seafood risotto, a simple plate or two with local fish lightly sauteed. But we had only a few hours left in town and this was no time to sway from my mission. After a simple green salad, I was served a picture-perfect, stunning pizza spilling over the edges of the plate. I opted for the house "Bellini" pizza, which had mozzarella, thinly shaved prosciutto and fresh porcini mushrooms. Bob had a classic: mozzarella and prosciutto topped with a layer of fresh arugula. Both were extraordinary in flavor and texture. The key distinction from every other pizza I'd had before was the texture of the crust, which had an almost springy chewiness to it. Nirvana in Naples.

The couple hours we had to explore Pompeii only scratched the surface of that eerily preserved ancient city at the base of Mt Vesuvius. We agreed we need to return to do more justice to the site some day. Guess that means I'll have a chance to indulge in more truly authentic Neapolitan pizza. Oh, and I can finally have a platter of that fritto misto at Bellini!

My family's been going to Orcas since I was 5 or 6 years old. And despite all the amazing places I've been in the world since then, still nowhere makes me happy the way that Orcas does. Throughout my childhood, we stayed in various cabins at North Beach Inn. I have almost excruciatingly clear memories of those early Orcas days, swishing branches in the evening water to watch the phosphorescence, endless hours searching tide pools and paddle-boating, hikes on and around Mt Constitution, and roasting marshmallows over beachside fires. Countless other memories have been added to the heap over the years.

My sister and I indulged mid September in a good dose of Orcas relaxation, staying in a cabin at my new favorite spot, Beach Haven Resort. To be there at the beginning of my favorite season, in the peace and quiet of a mid-week stay, was pure bliss. We went though our fair share of the firewood supply, keeping the stove stoked and crackling whenever we were "home." Which was most of one long day spent napping and reading, sustained by a simple but delicious lunch of mushroom and roasted poblano quesadillas. Our big outing that day was dinner at Christina's, owned by my friend Christina Orchid and her husband Bruce. (I was thrilled to see in the new October issue of Gourmet that Christina's got a nod as one of the country's best farm-to-table restaurants.)

This lazy day came after one far more active. That day began with a beach walk in the morning, then we headed to Deer Harbor for a kayaking excursion. The wind was moderate, but the day sunny and once we were under way, the wind was less challenging than it seemed from the dock. We wound around Crane Island and a number of other small islands between Deer Harbor and Shaw Island, absolutely lovely and serene. We also hiked a bit that afternoon, to Obstruction Point.

Barb and I took advantage of our well-appointed, cozy cabin and ate most of our meals there. One evening it was a big bowl of guacamole, chips and martinis on the rocky beach outside our cabin door (see the photo above) before a mess of pasta, another night pan-fried salmon with risotto and garlicky braised kale.

But lunch the day we arrived was one other dine-out treat. Rose's is an Eastsound favorite, a spacious casual dining room with an open kitchen and an adjoining wine and specialty foods shop. We sat at the counter, watching the action. Barb had Lummi Island reef-net salmon that had been cured to serve with all the bagel-and-cream-cheese fixings. I had a cup of the corn and chanterelle chowder, and a perfect salami and cheese sandwich. Our sojourn was surely off to a delightful, and delicious, start.

I think I've shaken off the heartache I had for so long about Renee Erickson losing the small house that she called her restaurant home on Boat Street in the University District. I know Renee didn't want to simply re-open in whatever suitable space she could quickly find after learning of her building's demise. Instead, she held out for many months until just the right location came available, something that could recapture some of the endless charm of the original. Her patience paid off.

We've been the new Boat Street a couple of times. A notable meal last summer was one of her "family style" seasonal menu affairs served at long tables in the outdoor courtyard. But not until our most recent visit a couple weeks ago did I feel enveloped in the cozy, twinkling ambiance of this place, the way I remember at Boat Street #1. Maybe it's just growing accustomed to the new space, or perhaps the space itself is now more relaxed and comfortable after so many patrons now have passed through its doors. Whatever reason, dinner there seemed something like finding an old friend.

My meal began with a pitch-perfect small salade Niçoise that included baby beets, heirloom tomatoes, crisp green beans, fingerling potatoes and olive-oil poached local tuna. The dollop of aioli alongside deliciously gilded the lily. Bob opted for Billy's Beefsteak Tomatoes, sliced in big chunks and served plainly with outstanding olive oil and fleur de sel (said to be vanilla salt, but thankfully very subtle). My only low point of the evening was turning to slather a piece of bread in the delicious tomato juice-olive oil-salt leftovers on Bob's plate, only to find the server had whisked it away while my head was turned.

The chef insisted we try the pimientos de padron, small rounded green chiles of Spanish heritage (hers come from a farmer in Oregon). I'd had them just once before, at Harvest Vine, so this was a treat. A big pile came adorned only in the thin veil of olive oil the chiles had fried in, with a judicious sprinkling of salt. My oh my--yum.

After my generous first course, I opted for a smaller entrée: lamb sausage crepinette. Working with crépine, or caul fat (I think usually from pig) was one of my more memorable lessons from La Varenne. This lacy, thin, very unusual fat is nature's perfect packaging material for sausage and patty-like mixtures that might otherwise fall apart during cooking. The caul fat not only holds things together, but partly melts during cooking, so keeps things moist as well. This lamb dish was wonderful, boldly seasoned and served with a sweet pepper pipérade.

Bob's main course was steamed Mediterranean mussels, which Renee cooks in classic style, with white wine, shallots, herbs (tarragon, mostly), and butter. A nice nugget of butter swirled in as well. I must have used most of a loaf of bread sopping up those amazing liquids. I was pretty good on clean-up that night. It's a tough job, but what a delicious one.

I'll be joining the festivities of the Wild Mushroom Celebration at the historic Shelburne Inn on the Long Beach Peninsula, with a cooking class and book signing on Saturday October 20. This has me returning to one of the sites of research for my Wild Mushroom cookbook, from which I'll be demonstrating a few recipes. Guests will be able to sample the prepared dishes. Cost is $55 plus tax and includes a copy of the cookbook. To reserve a seat, call 360-642-2442 or go here for more information.

I'm something of a broken record on the subject when each fall rolls around, but this really is my favorite time of the year. Cozy is a major theme: our clothes get cozier, our daily pace slows a bit, we clean out the fireplace for a new season of crackling-warm evenings. And of course the menu changes to reflect our longing for comforting, aromatic, warming foods to sustain us as things turn cool and gray.

This salad has a lot going for it, an earthy-rich melding of autumn flavors from wild mushrooms, hazelnuts and bacon. The decadence of the vinaigrette dressing relies on--I'll just let you know up front--bacon fat. Shallots and mushrooms are sauteed in the fat, the dressing made right in the skillet with the addition of vinegar and a drizzle of hazelnut oil. Now doesn't that sound tasty??

While I wholeheartedly agree, in principle, with Mae West's famous declaration that too much of a good thing can be wonderful, there's a wobbly line to navigate between indulging in a favorite treat and overdoing it. I had to take a decade-plus haitus from donuts after living too close to a donut shop my senior year of college. It took Top Pot to win me back, I indulge now in a maple-glazed old fashioned every couple of months. And there was the Coffee Crisp incident when my husband surprised me with a whole box of the delightful Canadian candy bars after a trip to Vancouver. Almost put me off them completely, by the time I'd finished the box weeks later.

So I was a bit troubled to find out that I can now buy RJ's Soft Eating Natural Licorice in my hometown. I'd come home from my Australia trip last fall with a bag, which I managed to parse out over the course of a week or so. Recently I happened upon the very same licorice at chefshop.com's brick-and-mortar Seattle store. That bag I came home with only lasted a few hours. I worry a bit about how easy it will be to return for an armload of bags any time I please.

I love most foods in that spectrum of licorice-anise-fennel flavors. But almost never in candy form. Which is why my infatuation with this particular confection is a surprise. Nothing I've had compares with the texture of RJ's version, which hits an ideal balance between soft and firm, with an easy chewiness that leaves no gummy remnants stuck to your teeth. The flavor is distinctive, almost piquant in its licoriceness, aromatic with molasses and just moderately sweet. I'm hooked. And I take no responsibility if reading this makes you track down a bag and get yourself hooked too.