Feed Me

The dish on Long Island's restaurant and food scene.

I'm getting tired of dinner by candlelight.

And "home cooking" just doesn't sound so good anymore, either.

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But waiting in line for two hours in the gas-station line only has underscored why dining heatless sometimes is just as good as dining out at a local joint, even when, like me,  you dine out for a living.

Last night, it was a breezy 48 degrees at La Casa Gianotti, an eclectic establishment that this morning had a Yellowstone-in-winter view, minus the bison, unless you count a recent burger.

I know. Why bother complaining? I'll never argue that we should have gone deeper in debt to find that perfect waterside site.

Anyway, I haven't hit the expiration dates on the pantry supplies. Tonight's plat du jour: tonno e sarde a la survivalist, or tuna and sardines fresh from can and jar.

If I decide to ignite a gas burner without lighting up anything else, there's always rigatoni marinara. Tomorrow, maybe bucatini with peanut sauce for a Eurasian-fusion treat.

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And maybe they'll untangle the fallen trees from the utility pole and the wires before Thanksgiving becomes more challenging.

Meantime, I'm busy writing my drinks column. My initial finding: Some red wines aren't bad slightly chilled.