EAST HAMPTON, N.Y. -- Sun-streaked hair whipping behind her, Jodi Della Femina vrooms along a labyrinthine back road like Speed Racer in a white VW bug convertible.

She's fearless behind the wheel. But she stalls when asked the name of the road taking us past potato fields, farm stands and one-room schoolhouses in this rustic section of the Hamptons, the famed Long Island retreat for the elite.

"It's an off-the-record shortcut," Della Femina, 31, says with a laugh. "I've given most of them away."

Actually, in her new book, "Jodi's Shortcuts '99," she "gives away" just two back-road shortcuts to motorists hoping to avert the crunch of Route 27, aka the Montauk Highway, the only main road to, from and within the Hamptons. Her book is a travel guide that reads like the ultimate list you'd leave for a house guest, covering everything from restaurants to best places to view a sunset to how to find a baby sitter.

But it's the publicizing of those back-road shortcuts that has some locals, wary of tourists and outsiders swarming their delicate country roads, upset.

"People are very territorial about the area, particularly the back roads," she says. "My opinion is, if there are three ways to get somewhere and you're only telling people one way, if you divide it in three, it'll all sort of even out."

Maybe she's not the "least popular girl in the Hamptons," as the New York Post predicted she'd be this summer, but she has gotten a few nasty letters. She should be ashamed of herself, one said. Someone at a party told her several people wanted her address so they could bomb her house. And Thelma Siven says her Hamptons-dwelling son isn't too thrilled with Della Femina either.

"He said the shortcuts are as crowded as the main road," says Siven, who is in her 70s and has owned a house in the Hamptons for seven years. "All his friends feel the same way."

Territorialism in the fertile, beach-framed East End of Long Island known as the Hamptons is nothing new. The region, whose residents turned "summer" into a verb, has represented the material American Dream since the turn of the century.

Since then, families like the Vanderbilts and Bouviers have given way to the Spielbergs, Baldwins, Popcorns and Perelmans. To have a house in the Hamptons, whether as a seasonal vacationer or local is to have officially "made it." Celebs and business giants sit side by side at hot-spot restaurants like Nick and Toni's and Della Femina -- owned, by the way, by her famed ad-man dad, Jerry. Luxuriant homes are served by swank country clubs. It's a place where Puff Daddy and Martha Stewart peacefully coexist. A place with zoning laws so strict, one of Della Femina's buddies has dubbed it "Nazi Mayberry."

Steven Gaines, author of "Philistines at the Hedgerow," a novel dramatizing the history and denizens of the Hamptons as forever locked in an Us vs. Them battle, has two words of advice for outsiders with Hamptons aspirations: "Don't come."

"I hope people lose interest in the Hamptons as soon as possible," he says.

That's not likely. And Della Femina, who grew up in New York City, knows that. She doesn't care if you're old money, new money or no money. She insists the Hamptons aren't some elite party with an immutable guest list. There's something for everyone, she says. You just have to know where to find it.

The best places

And Della Femina, who has been coming here since she was an infant, knows where to find everything.

You can tell from the way she navigates, talking about spots of interest minutes before reaching them and then pointing at them as soon as they appear without even turning her head.

There's Loaves & Fishes in Sagaponack (ridiculously overpriced, but the most incredible food, she says). And to your right, the American Hotel in Sag Harbor (the ideal place for cigars and cognac.)

The Hamptons that Della Femina presents on an outsiders' minitour is bucolic and pleasant. No Christie Brinkley sightings. No snubs from well-heeled locals. Mostly small shopping strips, the occasional mammoth residence, lush rural scenes and, of course, food.

At Plain and Fancy, a country-perfect roadside food shop with plump, berry-stained pies, fresh coffee and savory tuna salad, the owners, who greet her by name, envelop her in a major gush session. They've read in the paper about her recent engagement to John Kim and want to talk wedding dresses, party food and antique engagement rings.

If anyone here is miffed by her book, you wouldn't know it.

It's not as if the vivacious Della Femina single-handedly outed the Hamptons. Gaines says conflict between locals and outsiders has always been a major issue. It was during the 1980s, he says, when Hamptons fever exploded. A booming economy sent young, newly wealthy executives and entrepreneurs flooding in, and summer house-shares began to boom.

"The '80s and '90s were brutal for the Hamptons," Gaines moans.

As well as she knows the Hamptons, Della Femina also knows the law of the land. "I could live here for the next 100 years, raise a family and still not be a local," says Della Femina, who has a home in East Hampton though she lives most of the year on New York's Upper East Side. "If you're not born here, you're not a local."

The tan, athletic author slides back inside her convertible, which she has left unlocked. Security is yet another charm of the Hamptons, she says.

Back on the road again, Della Femina zooms past a Jaguar with a "For Sale" sign parked on a lawn, and what look like orphaned mailboxes, since the houses they serve are hidden far behind them in clusters of foliage. Her command of the windy, unlit, unmarked roads is impressive.

"This is the easiest place to get around if you don't use back roads," she yells over the speed-induced breeze, which causes the VW to wobble a bit. "And if you don't turn [over] your vehicle."

Her intention is to take Route 27 (the only way, she says) to the fishing village of Montauk. But when she notices roadwork ahead, she heads instead toward East Hampton.

Flip-flop-wearing beach bums and fashionable seniors in tennis skirts share the sidewalks. Women drool at the girly, pastel frocks at Cynthia Rowley. Della Femina tries on a hot pink silk coat. It looks great, but there will be no impulse buys today. Too expensive, she says. Instead, she opts for an iced tea from the Barefoot Contessa, a precious pastry shop. She opens an issue of a local magazine to find a picture of herself and some friends at her book release party.

An ideal project

"Jodi's Shortcuts" was the ideal project for her, Della Femina says.

"I don't have that territorial local attitude, but I'm not an outsider either," she says. "I fall somewhere in the middle."

Not that she's not entitled to be a Hamptons snob. She began coming with her family as a child, then found some way to spend every summer here since she was 14. (Once, she worked as an au pair for a "dysfunctional" family. "I was their 24-hour maid," she says. "It was like a 'Saturday Night Live' skit.") Most recently, Della Femina, a graduate of Tulane University and journalism graduate school at NYU, co-founded the East Hampton Independent and Southampton Independent newspapers.

As she continues the tour, Della Femina sighs at the picturesque vineyards and acres of farmland.

She admits that there's "part of me that felt like I shouldn't be writing about back roads."

"This is why people are kind of up in arms," she says. "I don't want to see these roads ruined anymore than anyone else."

She cruises into Sag Harbor. It looks like a hybrid of a college town and beach resort. She would love to have a house here, she says. Sailboats float by; parents push strollers down the pier. She takes in the marine atmosphere for a while, then heads toward Bridgehampton and the tiny town of Water Mill, where she stops at a farm stand. Such rural delicacies as fresh rosemary and gargantuan mushrooms contrast with the customers buying them, thickly accented New Yorkers gabbing into cell phones.

Momentarily stuck in traffic, Della Femina checks her voice mail via her own cell phone. She needs to pick up some weekending friends at the train station. They're getting together for dinner at Southampton's chic Red Bar Brasserie.

Before she goes to retrieve them, she offers a glimpse of Southampton glamour: grand mansions along the shore protected by privet hedges Michael Jordan would strain to peek over. Beyond the imposing shrubbery, she spots a Gothic, castle-like monstrosity. "I think it has a moat," Della Femina confides.

At the Red Bar, customers are dressed in crisp shirts, khaki pants, sweaters draped around shoulders, with the occasional black strapless dress thrown in. But for the most part it's smart beach wear -- "Hamptons casual," says Blanche Williams, 31.

Williams, here with husband Jim, is among the housemates Della Femina has invited for the weekend. Eager to decompress after a stressful Manhattan work week, the visitors grip cocktails and chat.

Jim Williams, also 31, complains that tee times at a local club end far too early. Tim Bogardus, 33, talks about his recent trip to Tuscany. And spiky-haired Daniel Benedict is excited about the magazine photo of Della Femina's book party.

"It's always fun to read about the parties you were at and see the pictures," he says, smiling.

Complimentary appetizers are delivered before Della Femina's clan dives into succulent dishes of fresh duckling, local potatoes, caramelized whatever, sawgrass and such.

As the meal ends, Blanche Williams tells about a recent dinner out, when she and some friends played "credit card roulette" to determine who would foot the bill. After everyone has put a credit card in a napkin, they are removed one by one until a solitary card remains. The owner of the lone piece of plastic has the pleasure of paying up.

Sounds very Hamptons. Yet Williams isn't a local, nor are any of Della Femina's dinner companions, and it's not stopping them from looking like they just might be.

You don't have to be an insider to get reservations at the Red Bar Brasserie or gain access to other hot spots. As Della Femina suggests in her book, with enough information and preparation, anyone can do the Hamptons right.

"It's not like it's in someone's driveway, you knock on the door, you have to give a special code," she says. "It's right there."

Where to eat, shop and gawk

Jodi Della Femina is well-versed in the Hamptons world of privet hedges and the posh life, and "Jodi's Shortcuts '99" reflects that, with restaurant listings, back-roads maps, ATM locations and much more to make the Hamptons a tad less intimidating to the clueless.

Here are 10 of her personal faves in no particular order:

Restaurants with sunset views

The Beacon (8 West Water St., Sag Harbor): One of the most romantic places to view the sunset, Della Femina says.

East Hampton Point (295 Three Mile Harbor Road, East Hampton): If she weren't allergic to seafood, she'd go to this restaurant, which is literally on the water, all the time.

American Hotel (Main Street, Sag Harbor): Great wine bar, ideal for late night get-togethers.

Just the sunset

The walking dunes at Napeague

Celebrity spotting and great food

Della Femina (99 N. Main St., East Hampton): Her dad Jerry's joint. Go figure.

Nick and Toni's (136 N. Main St., East Hampton): Across the street from Della Femina. But no rivalry here. It's a trick to get a reservation at either.

Cozy food

Babette's (66 Newtown Lane, East Hampton): Della Femina's fiance, John Kim, is "Mr. Carnivore," she says, yet he also loves this veggie breakfast spot.

Plain and Fancy (85 Springs Fireplace Road, East Hampton): Della Femina recommends the tuna salad and homemade jelly donuts.

Shopping

Scoop Beach (47 Newtown Lane, East Hampton): Trendy New York implant with a beachy twist.

Calypso (17 Newtown Lane, East Hampton): Chic beach; sarongs, sundresses.