Southern Hospitality

Biscuits anyone?  Biscuits soaked in butter but light as air, biscuits covered in white sausage gravy, seasoned with salt and pepper and whose sole purpose in life is sopping up the remains of shrimp and grits and she-crab soup, biscuits so good they’ll make you sit up and “slap your momma” (to quote the ever sassy Paula Deen).  Again I ask you, “Do you want a biscuit???”  If you do, it’s time to head down south to good old Charleston and rustle up a few, because wherever you go, there the biscuits are.

Our trip to Charleston, South Carolina was a success on many levels.  The primary reason for the journey was Axis’ production East 10th Street featuring in the Spoleto Festival, but just because it was a “working” vacation doesn’t mean there wasn’t plenty of time for play.  For months we had been looking forward to the trip with Brian researching local attractions to visit and me being consumed as always with culinary adventures.  Of the foodie nature there were many adventures to be had, but with so few days (for me in particular), it took a concerted effort to economize, only going to places recommended by friends without wandering into the myriad other restaurants and cafes our noses and eyes were pulling us to.

Charleston made it difficult for me because it’s a walk-able city for the most part.  Whenever I walk around in a new place I want nothing more than to endlessly take pictures and stop into little shops along the way to wherever our particular destination may be.  It’s hard incorporating a little one into this scenario because it was bright, sunny and hot the whole time we were there and Siena doesn’t really want to sit baking in the glow of a warm sun while daddy gets his next architectural or garden photo.  I admit I can be difficult to travel with for that reason.  I get caught up in capturing everything with the lens because it’s all so beautiful, and tend to slow the party down a bit.  This trip, I made a concerted effort (necessary effort) to absorb and enjoy the surroundings without trying to capture every last square foot of Federal architecture and formal gardens with my camera.  Surprisingly, I’m left with more of a sense of place than I thought possible, and one that makes me feel all warm and friendly inside.

There is no way I can say Southerners aren’t hospitable.  No matter where I went there was someone saying hello, waving, tipping a hat or stopping to exclaim how cute they found Siena.  I certainly can’t begrudge them that, but I forget how friendly and open people can be outside of NYC.  Don’t get me wrong, I love those “keep to themselves” people I take to the streets with everyday, but how refreshing it was to look people in the eye without thinking they might ask me for money.  The thought of simply pulling up a chair and sipping a mint julep with these fine folks was not out of the realm of possibility except for the fact I only had two full days in the city and many things I wanted to see.

We had to begin by eating because I was starved from rigorous airplane travel.  My longtime friend, Lisa Schwartzkopf (Ermold) recommended a great place to get the aforementioned she-crab soup and shrimp and grits:  82 Queen.  The restaurant serves low country style cooking with hearty meals high in calories and flavor.  The gang ordered their Maker’s Mark mint juleps and the afternoon was set for fun.  While waiting for our food to arrive, the first round of heavenly biscuits arrived on our table.  These yummy morsels were truly so light they could have floated off the table.  Whoever was preparing and handling the dough in the kitchen must know what they are doing.  It seemed as if human hands had barely touched them at all and I’ve never seen a biscuit less “overworked” in my life.  They were brushed with butter before baking and served with another heaping bowl full of butter on the side…just the way I like it.

After lunch, the first excursion we made was to the Angel Oak.  This oak tree is estimated to be nearly 1500 years old.  That’s crazy!!!  Angel Oak lives about 9 miles out of Charleston, off the main highway and down a bumpy dirt road about a mile.  Though it isn’t very easy to find due to a lack of signage, there were quite a few people visiting this miraculous wonder.  To say it’s massive is an understatement and most pictures I took failed to capture the scale and grandeur.  Though I kept wanting people to move out of the way so I could take a photograph, I realized I needed them as a size reference to make sense of what I was looking at.  Not only is the tree gigantic, with massive, gnarled branches spreading far and wide dipping into the ground to emerge again several feet later with fingerlike tendrils, but the tree has amazing, old energy.  The space around it is peaceful and children wanted to climb all over the tree, though they weren’t supposed to.  The Angel Oak is the ultimate climbing tree. 

Returning to our hotel, the beautiful Wentworth Mansion, we took a long drive around the peninsula and to some outlying islands trying to cram in as much sight seeing as possible.  The hotel itself is a landmark, having been around since 1886 in various incarnations, surviving fires and earthquakes to find itself lovingly restored and taking patrons looking for a romantic and historical weekend getaway.  They also serve a mean breakfast; with you guessed it, biscuits!!!  Our favorite part of the hotel was the cupola on top.  Commanding one of the best views of Charleston (360 degrees), we retired for drinks around 6:00pm every evening to relax and unwind before dinner.  Regardless of the heat outside, it was cool and breezy up top as the sun set on the stately old homes of the city.  

On my second and only full day in Charleston, we got up bright an early to get a move on with our tourism.  Sure, we were up bright and early anyway because of Siena, but no longer having an excuse to sleep in left no room for missing out on any of the scheduled activities, the first being a visit to the aquarium.  Brian thought it would be fun to take Siena to see the fish and other interesting creatures at the aquarium and he and I ended up having a lot of fun as well.  The building and exhibits are well laid out, one flowing into the next.  The space is divided into several floors with different temperate zones and conditions grouped together in a relatable fashion.  I think by far the most interesting things were the stingrays.  It was creepy and fun to see them close up, their little faces seeming to smile at me as they gently swam across the glass.  Not far from their “home” was a smaller kids area with shallow pools you could put your hands into and touch some “baby” stingrays.  Brian and I fairly dared each other to do it and were quite successful in both touching the wet; rubbery flesh and creeping ourselves out at the same time. 

We also saw many other intriguing exhibits and creatures including an albino alligator, black light filled containers of jellyfish and a hugely magnified home to seahorses.  Brian loved the seahorses most because it’s the males of the species who carry the babies.  Siena seemed in awe of the fish in the Deep Ocean exhibit.  The monsters swam by the giant glass window spanning several floors.  The monsters, to me, were of course sharks because I have an irrational fear of them thanks to Jaws, but all the fish swimming with them were huge and I’d never seen such giant fish up close and personal before.  It only took a couple of hours to see the entire space, granted we didn’t read a ton of information, but was certainly a worthwhile stop on any trip to Charleston.  Grabbing a quick hotdog (no, sadly not a biscuit) we were off to the next, and in my humble opinion, the most exciting part of our vacation:  The historic homes tour with Linda Wohlfeil Jones.

I walked into the parlor of the hotel with Siena and Brian in tow to find Randy, Lynn and our other friend David already engaged by this very animated, striking woman named Linda.  She was a Charleston native, born and bred with family scattered all over town.  Some of her kin had a beautiful home along Rainbow Row, which we will come to, as well as other family members owning one of the carriage ride businesses transporting visitors all over town.  If you have ever seen the 80’s television show Designing Women…one of my other favorites, then picture Julia Sugarbaker giving you a driving tour of historic Charleston with Brian as the chauffeur.  Julia (played by Dixie Carter) was always the fiery, sassy, smart and most opinionated of all the women in the show, the one with the most class and an air of knowing a dirty secret or two that she would never divulge for fear of disgracing her honor or causing you, the listener, to blush.  Linda our tour guide was exactly that, at least as far as I could tell from the couple of hours I spent with her.

Rarely do I come across people so passionate about what they do, someone who is great at their job, an effective communicator and someone who inspires you to be as interested in a particular topic as they are.  By the time we were done driving around and listening to Linda I felt like I needed to purchase every conceivable book on Charleston I could find and immerse myself in the lore and grandeur.  For every home, manor, mansion, plantation, garden and or street we went down, Linda had a story, and not just a story but some tale of architecture peppered with history and love, feuds and famous figures from our not so distant past. 

One of the most amazing things to me about Charleston was the fact that its architecture is intact.  Thankfully, Sherman’s march during the Civil War didn’t come burning through this town and though it has been challenged with large fires and earthquakes in it’s past, the city has survived and thrived.  There is a strong presence of a preservation society, which to this day keeps all building modifications and construction under close scrutiny and no one is allowed to build any structures taller than the church steeples, of which there are many.  Charleston was apparently quite the destination for those yearning for religious freedom and at one point in its history any group of seven people or more choosing to believe in the same thing could start their own church.  That’s a whole lot of praying going on.  

We dawdled along many streets that seemed like they should be out of a film set.  The splendor of the homes, particularly the large old mansions of Rainbow Row were simply insane and luxurious.  The only stop we made was into the Nathaniel Russell House, a home known for being the quintessential specimen of Federal architecture.  Another woman gave us the tour of the home, and though the manse was lovely, her recounting of facts didn’t do the place justice and bore no resemblance to the passionate tales Linda, our guide was giving us.  If anyone is traveling to Charleston and wants Linda’s info, I have her card and email address, but in the meantime I hope she starts writing a book…it would be endlessly fascinating!

Being around someone this passionate can only inspire creativity.  She made me want to change my whole life, uproot and move south and open a small, little bakery on a secret cobblestone street with an attached garden.  But in lieu of action on such an outrageous fantasy we decided the next best thing would be a nice dinner out at a place aptly name Magnolia.  Magnolia is the famous bakery in NYC known for its cupcakes, and gained prominence via Carrie Bradshaw and Sex and the City.  Magnolia in this case is a family restaurant with down home southern cooking, and I mean the serious kind.  Linda advised us to order the freshly fried potato chips topped with blue cheese, and the rest goes downhill from there.

I had a mound of homemade pimento cheese, similar to what mom used to buy in the grocery store when I was a kid.  Pimento cheese on crackers, or in this case pita is a naughty luxury item that reminds me of home.  But the dinner was the kicker, I went for it as they say; fried chicken, pepper biscuits (yay, biscuits!!!), mashed potatoes and white gravy, collard greens and a creamy, gooey bread pudding for dessert.  I dare you to find a more southern meal, and I dare you to eat it if you happen to be on a diet.  Though there is nothing pretty about the calorie count, these items are southern and midwestern staples for a reason…they taste so good!!!

It’s hard to believe I only had two days in this charming city and would gladly return for a week at the minimum, to explore, tour more homes and eat myself into a fried sort of coma.  I haven’t been so inspired by visiting a new place in a long time and forgot how much fun a vacation can be.  Siena absolutely loved it, plane rides included and she seems to be well on her way to being a good traveler, up for anything as long as she can sit and look at trees and go where people will tell her what a cute baby she is. 

Coming home and heading back to reality is never easy, especially after such a fun couple of days, but the week moved by in a flash (as most seem to with a five month old) leading us to Father’s Day weekend.  Brian and I were astonished at the number of gifts and well wishes we received over the weekend.  To us, it seemed like it should be an ordinary day, not a big deal, a day we send gifts to our dads and certainly not a day where we would be celebrated.  How the heck did we become fathers???

The weekend was sunny but pleasant and we made a long overdue trip to Connecticut to visit my cousin Kevin and his three daughters.  Before we ever found out about Siena’s impending entrance into our lives and the whirlwind that came after, Kevin and I had talked about going over his home with an eye toward design.  The mission was to look at the yard, making plant suggestions (something I love to do) and take my Benjamin Moore fan decks of paint chips and make some decisions about colors for the inside of the house (also something I love to do).

The girls all played nicely together, keeping Siena entertained for a couple of hours while Kevin, Brian and I talked life and design and grilled some chicken outdoors.  It was a perfect summer day for a barbeque and I could think of nothing better to finish off the meal than a blackberry cobbler, the topping in this case being made of none other than BISCUITS!!!!  After such a southern biscuit-eating weekend, I had to find something biscuit related for this week’s pastry offering.  Kevin has a deep love of cobbler, particularly blackberry, so I marched myself to the market, got some blackberries (I know it’s a little early for them so file this one in your rolodex for a goodie to make in July) and found a recipe for Best Berry Cobbler featuring a biscuit topping.  The recipe is from (who else?) Martha Stewart and is as follows:

Best Berry Cobbler

Ingredients:

                          1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

                          2 teaspoons baking powder

                          1/2 teaspoon salt

                          4 ounces (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

                          3/4 cup cold heavy cream, plus more for brushing

                          1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

                          1/2 cup sugar, plus more if needed and for sprinkling

                          3 tablespoons cornstarch, plus more if needed

                          6 cups (3 pints) blackberries or raspberries

                          Vanilla ice cream, for serving (optional)

Directions

.    Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Pulse flour, baking powder, and salt in a food processor until combined. Add butter, and process until mixture resembles coarse meal. Transfer mixture to a large bowl, and add heavy cream in a slow, steady stream, mixing with a wooden spoon until dough just comes together. Divide dough into 9 pieces, and loosely form each into a ball.

.    Whisk together cinnamon, sugar, and cornstarch in a bowl. Add berries; toss gently to coat. Transfer mixture to an 8-inch square-baking dish. Top berries with dough balls, spacing evenly. Brush dough with heavy cream, and sprinkle with sugar. Bake until berries are bubbling in center and biscuits are golden brown, 45 to 50 minutes. Transfer dish to a wire rack, and let cool slightly, about 30 minutes. Serve with ice cream if desired.

Cook's Note:

The amount of sugar and cornstarch needed will depend on the sweetness and ripeness of the fruit. Taste the berries. If they are sour, add an extra 1/4-cup sugar in step 2. If juicy, add an extra 1-teaspoon cornstarch. To catch any juices that may bubble over when baking, place the baking dish on a rimmed baking sheet or lay a piece of foil on the rack below the cobbler.

I admit to a slight modification in the biscuit preparation.  It calls for rolling the dough into balls, lightly handling the dough and dropping them onto the macerated blackberry filling.  I was after something a little more formed and presentable so I rolled out the dough to about three-quarters of an inch thick and cut out nine squares with my fluted square biscuit cutter.  The shape looked so nice in the square pan and elevated this rustic dessert ever so slightly.  After cutting out the dough I allowed it to sit on a sheet pan in the freezer for 15 minutes before putting the biscuits on top of the fruit and baking.  Though I may have lost a little in “rise” from rolling it out, I made up for it in shape with the dough holding those fluted edges quite nicely.  The berries were still a bit tart so I added an extra half cup of sugar, but if you wait and make this next month when the berries are fully sweet and falling off the bushes you may not need to do this.

By the time Father’s Day rolled around we were exhausted, but had committed to going to the New York Botanical Garden with our friend’s Jonathan, Izabella and their daughter Mia.  I’m so glad we pulled it together and went because it was another amazing late June day.  The show Spanish Paradise: Gardens of the Alhambra is currently running through August 21, 2011 and was the main draw for our adventure.  This display of Spanish/Mediterranean flora is being held in the giant conservatory on the 250-acre property, and though we found it beautiful, we also found it incredibly crowded as apparently every other dad had come out to the garden on this special day to see the spectacle.  I’m more of an English Country garden kind of dad, so I was happy to discover not too far from the conservatory what was called the Poetry Walk.

The Poetry Walk is full of some of my favorites such as hydrangeas, tall grasses, roses, herbs and many other gentle, pastel colored flowers famous from the English countryside.  Dotted along the walk are sixteen poems pertaining to the garden and make for a lyrical stroll through thoughtful plantings.  There was even a section with a small hedge maze as well.  If I had tons and tons more room in my backyard, this walk would certainly be an inspiration to borrow from.  Luckily I’m all out of room in my backyard otherwise I would have gone directly to the garden shop and purchased as many hydrangeas as I could find.  Not only are they long lasting, but so full and light and delicate with color shifts and such a long bloom time.  They are my number one “go to” plant to fill in spaces and make hedges to hide yourself from the neighbors.

After Izabella and Jonathan left, Brian, Siena and I stayed on in hopes of seeing more of the garden, the parts not so populated with Alhambra crazed citizens.  After a light lunch at the café (no biscuits were involved, and my waist line thanks me) we decided to try and find the rose garden.  My love of roses couldn’t be further expanded upon in this forum if I tried, but needless to say my desire to find the garden was strong, especially now because before long the first June blooms will be but a memory. 

We strolled along Azalea Way (the sweet name of the road) through giant old trees with under-plantings of hostas, ferns and astilbe.  The sun was low enough in the sky to send golden rays scattering across the lawn and plants, giving a magical glow to the forest path we were walking upon.  Through the woods and over the river, not to Grandma’s house, but across the Bronx River that runs through the middle of the garden.  And what should our wandering eyes spy but the most beautiful stone mill nuzzled up to the river with a wedding about to begin.  Brian and I both love stone houses, and this mill was exquisite.  Upon further inspection (we crossed the bridge and had to make our way to the mill) we discovered it’s a building that can be rented for large events and all proceeds go to help a children’s hospital.  I’m not sure how much it would cost to rent out, but what a place to have a wedding reception!!!.

Barely able to pull ourselves away, we finally made it to the Peggy Rockefeller Rose Garden.  Cresting the hill just beyond our mirage-based mill, the garden spread out before us in all its glory; red, pink and yellow as far as the eye could see.  The sight was stunning and took my breath away in its unexpected vastness.  I’ve never seen such a rose garden.  We worked our way down the long path…the way for road weary travelers with strollers, coming up the back entrance to the isles and isles of blooming bushes.  The garden was closing at this point and I had to hurriedly make my way through with a few quick snapshots and the briefest moments for the necessary stopping and smelling.  Plus, the sun was beating down on both Brian and Siena and it was time to wrap up our long weekend and collapse in the air-conditioned living room at home.

When I see a gorgeous flower, a light flakey pastry or a leaf-strewn sidewalk I naturally want to capture it with my eyes and my camera.  I want to share what I find so extraordinary with others.  There is nothing that compares to that moment of discovery, and no matter how many photos I take I’m often left with disappointment, the camera not quite capturing the joy in my experience.  But every so often, one or two pictures do come out, do speak to the experience and share a feeling captured for as long as the image exists.  All I can say is thank goodness for digital cameras, not only do they provide instant gratification but also are saving me from going into the poor house with fees from film development.  The camera makes it easy to capture an image, but savoring a moment is an entirely different thing.  Retaining that special moment is even more precious and worth stepping out from behind the camera from time to time.  But my, my, how I do love to take pictures of a flakey biscuit!  It’s just who I am.

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

BBQ grills at the ready…its summer time y’all!!!!  And, my goodness is it ever.  The smell of fresh mown grass, charring meat and wafts of hot pavement let us know we can wear less clothing, eat with our hands and spend a little more time lazing about the pool or garden or beach.  I love it!  

May has come and gone leading the way into a toasty June.  All the activities that come along with the season have begun heating up as well.  There are the usual one’s such as country drives and day trips to the nearest body of water with a shoreline.  For us it’s the Atlantic Ocean, but I would be as happy with a river running through the woods, spilling down over rocks and making small shallow pools where crawdads like to hang out.  We haven’t gone to the beach just yet, but with Memorial Day’s arrival came Randall Sharp’s annual BBQ.  Though she doesn’t eat meat herself, she is strangely the master of cooking it…a long-standing passion.  Whether it’s steaks, lobster, ribs or shrimp, nothing escapes her watchful eye or dares not to enter my mouth. 

The BBQ is a good time for all in attendance.  It reminds me of the holiday potlucks my family had (and still have) while I was growing up.  Everyone brings a dish or two with the host/hostess providing a main.  In this case, Randy cooks the meat and everyone else brings a side dish or dessert.  She also makes ice cream, a thing not to be missed at any of her dinner parties.  I was in a southern state of mind when thinking of a dessert to bring to the gathering.  Truly, I’m in a gentile, southern state of mind most of the time thanks to my repeated viewings of the Golden Girls and the training Blanche has given me on the subject.  I must have been Scarlet O’Hara in my former life.

This was a particularly more southern related theme because of our impending trip to Charleston, South Carolina.  One of the productions from Axis Theatre, East 10th St. has had quite a bit of international success and was invited to participate in the Spoleto Festival the weekend of June 9th-11th.  Brian is the producer of this show, so it made sense we should travel down south for the weekend to make sure the production goes well but also to tour some historic homes, sip mint juleps on the veranda and see what sort of activities and food Charleston has to offer.

I’ve often read about the food scene in Charleston, and though I’m yet to experience it, there is generally an impression of being some of the finest soul food in the country.  I was waiting for a train one evening in Grand Central Station so I stopped by the newsstand to look through some food related magazines.  The May 2011 Saveur coincidentally had an article on Charleston so I felt it was a sign from the food gods and purchased it immediately.  There was certainly plenty of down-home cooking going on with long stewed meats, collard greens, cornbread, and much of the usual fair one might expect. 

There were a list of café’s and restaurants to try (hopefully I’ll make it to at least one), but many of them were small operations practically cooking out of people’s homes with only a few tables to accommodate the patrons.  I guess that’s the best way to keep it simple and family style, only preparing enough to keep things manageable, preparing long standing family recipes in batches “like mom used to make”.  There were a few larger operations, this particular article focused on a couple diner-like establishments, but in all cases there wasn’t anything fancy being prepared.  The food I was reading about was for the everyday, or in some cases Sunday one-pot suppers, the kind of meals that feed the soul without destroying the wallet.

As always, there were quite a few things I wanted to make but the thing that stuck out most was a recipe for Strawberry Cake.  Similar to a red-velvet cake in many ways, red food coloring included, I thought it would be a perfect, simple and elegant cake for Randy’s BBQ.  The recipe is straightforward with not a lot of fuss, the key ingredient being seedless strawberry jam added to the cake batter along with oil instead of butter producing a very moist and lovely faux strawberry red crumb.  The frosting is a combination of butter, cream cheese and confectioners’ sugar.  The recipe calls for strawberry extract, which I didn’t see at the grocery store (and have never seen for that matter) but I used vanilla bean paste (or extract) in its place without any problems (along with a few drops of red food coloring to tint the icing pink).  The strawberry flavor in this cake is mild, but I decided a few fresh slices of strawberries would add some extra flavor and decorative flair.  It is a simple cake, but a decadent one, and one that went in a hurry to the hungry BBQ crowd.

I felt it important to make at least one strawberry dessert for the end of May.  My conscience wouldn’t allow me to skip this delectable fruit bursting out of the stalls of the farmer’s markets right now.  I’m yet to have my first strawberry shortcake of the season but am hoping to remedy this soon, maybe in Charleston.  There is nothing like delicate, golden shortcake soaked in sweetened strawberry juice, topped with the ripened berries and freshly whipped cream.  If you are having a similar craving I have a recipe for Strawberry Shortcake from a posting in May of 2010 which is very easy to make.

Along with the arrival of summer come outdoor events.  Not only are BBQs in vogue, but also picnics and children’s activities in every town and county across America.  Westchester is no different.  There is a continual array of emails arriving in my inbox from the town we live in, Ossining, with its “web-blasts” of information.  Being such an old county we live in, there are many historical sites, particularly old manors and properties of famous/wealthy families who settled these parts hundreds of years ago.  One of the properties no more than ten minutes from out house is called Van Cortlandt Manor.  Click the link for history and information.

There are a host of activities held here throughout the spring, summer and fall, culminating in the “Great Blaze” during October when there are thousands of intricately carved pumpkins put on display each evening for a nighttime walkthrough tour.  Memorial Day weekend they were hosting an event called Animals and Acrobats.  The concept was of a circus that comes to the countryside in the 1800’s.  There was a “Punch and Judy” set-up with a man talking to an expanding array of puppets moving through scene changes inside a small tent, and various persons in costumes of the period were to be found playing music or walking on gigantic stilts all over the property.  At the center of it all a large white tent filled with hay-bails for seating featured various acts.  The children in attendance seemed to be having a lot of fun, but I thought it was more of an excuse for adults to get outside for a while and let their children be wild and roam free. 

There were many families like us, with small children and strollers happy to be in the fresh air, eating hot dogs and ice cream and my favorite:  fresh made kettle corn.  A tent was set up with a giant black kettle, a man stirring the pot of oil and popping kernels in the warm, verdant afternoon.  The sweet, sugary taste mingled with salt is always a favorite flavor combination of mine and having the popcorn come right out of the kettle and go directly into my mouth was perfect…no stale bagged popcorn here.  With the breeze in the air, our tummies full and such lively if not occasionally odd entertainment, we couldn’t have been happier.

Last weekend-marked Siena’s first trip to the zoo and the official first BBQ of the season in our own backyard.  We’ve been to the Bronx Zoo only once before and even that was a long time ago, not since Brian and I lived In Brooklyn.  As the crow flies, or by car, it’s surprisingly only a half an hour from our house.  The zoo spans quite a large space in the Bronx and takes hours to see only a small portion, at least while pushing a stroller.  What I happily discovered on our walk up to the entrance were fences covered to capacity with honey-suckle vines. Rarely do I get to smell honey-suckle in the city and it certainly takes me back to warm, summer country roads lined in wood, barbed wire and the heavily scented vines.  Honey-suckle and cow manure are the smells of my childhood.

Honey-suckle aside, I have mixed emotions about a zoo, animals in captivity etc…but at the same time it’s an opportunity to see animals I’ve yet traveled far enough to meet on their home turf.  The Bronx Zoo seems like it would be a great place to call a home away from home.  We thought it would be fun to get out of the house and see if Siena would find any interest in seeing the animals.  Thus far she is enthralled more by trees than anything else and nothing makes her happier than “walking” along in a park under the large canopies.  When she wasn’t napping, the animals didn’t seem to faze her much, but we enjoyed the park just the same, getting to share the warm afternoon with the thousands upon thousands of other parents strolling their children through the grounds.  I’ve never seen so many strollers in one place…and I have spent much time on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.  There were mini-parking lots for said strollers in areas of the zoo where you couldn’t “stroll them”; otherwise it was a neck and neck race/walk to see whose stroller could get to the next exhibit the fastest.  Ahh parenthood.

We invited Izabella, Jonathan and Mia over for an early evening cookout before our daughters had to go to bed.  I find we do things at a much earlier hour these days, making dinner reservations for 4:30pm along with the local senior citizens.  I guess that’s a change that comes with having small children about.  I was excited to have people over not only to confirm that we could still have “normal” activities in our life such as a barbecue at our house, but also to share the first blooming of the rose bushes.

I have accumulated nearly a dozen rose bushes over the past couple of years and it’s such a treat when the first part of June rolls around bringing forth the sunshine and colorful blooms.  My penchant for pink roses is certainly unmatched, but I do have a couple of white and a yellow and red rose bushes to keep things interesting.  I particularly like sprawling shrub roses that are great for cutting and placing in small bud vases on a windowsill.  The fragrances of heirloom varieties are my favorite, soft and sweet with strains that have been delighting people for more than fifty years.  A proper rose garden in bloom is a thing to behold, but I’ll take my small, secret backyard garden any day of the week.

To honor the roses I decided to make a rose flavored cookie…bad idea.  I’ll just go ahead and say it; I finally made something that even I didn’t want to eat (and I’ll eat just about anything).  Not that everything I make is perfect and deserving to be in Michelin starred restaurants, but generally I like the simple (and not so simple) desserts I make from week to week.  


The idea for the rose cookies came from a couple of places, one being a Middle-Eastern market I went to at Christmas time last year in search of candied citron for Panettone.  I went to Kalustyan's in search of fruit and nuts, but was mesmerized by all the spices and ingredients I had never seen before.  On one of the many burgeoning shelves of oddities I came across rose water.  I’d heard of rose water before, but had never tasted it.  Even at that time I began to think of warmer weather again and blooming rose bushes, determined to find a recipe using the magical substance.

Flash forward to a few months ago when Martha Stewart Living came out with the Cookie App for the Ipad.  This application is a thing of beauty, well laid out from a design and user perspective and full of wonderful cookies for every occasion.  While scrolling through the list I came across Rose Water Cream Sandwichs; clouds parted and sunlight burst through reminding me of the “holiday-time” rose water purchase and I knew I had to make these delicate, small cookies.

Since it was still winter at the time, I determined to wait once more until the roses were blooming in the garden and I could have an outdoor get-together to share my ingredient findings with my friends.  Too bad I found out so late in the game that I don’t like rose water!  I had never bothered to open the small bottle until I had purchased the rest of the cookie ingredients and was in my baking zone.  Normally, I am fond of floral smells (obviously because of my garden or favorite colognes), but when I think of floral flavors lavender immediately springs to mind, and I love lavender.  It came as quite a surprise when I touched my finger to the rose water for a small taste and came away with the sensation of eating my mother’s bubble bath.  I like the scent of mom’s bubble bath as I recall from growing up, but I wouldn’t want to eat it.  It was either that or I had fallen into a giant vat of perfume.  Is this what children who have their mouths cleaned out with soap feel like???  Not to mention the lasting alcohol flavor lingering in the back of my throat.  I only licked the tip of my finger, but it seemed for a minute I had taken a shot of whiskey.   Rose water’s alcohol content is apparently 40%.  I know vanilla and other extracts have a small amount of alcohol in them, but this was crazy!

In my effort to retain childhood wonders and the belief that all things will turn out good in the end, I went ahead adding the 3 tablespoons of rosewater the recipe calls for into the batter.  THREE TABLESPOONS!!!  One tablespoon, maybe, would have dispersed into the dough giving a subtle rose flavor in the background, but THREE…no dice.  I love vanilla extract, and generally the most called for in recipes is a tablespoon.  I should have listened to my tiny inner voice and only added one tablespoon of the bubble bath extract, then, the cookies might have been salvageable.

My next thought was that baking would take care of them, cook out the alcohol, reduce the strong rose flavor quite a bit, but alas, again I was fooled.  The flavor was somewhat tamed by the baking, but not enough for me to convince myself that I in fact loved these cookies and would make them year after year every time the roses came into bloom.  Sadly, I don’t know if I can use rose water again and not feel like I’m eating dish soap.  The upside to all of this is the learning process.  These cookies were in fact quite good with respect to the balance in the rest of the flavors, the light and crisp texture, the petite size and the way the dough holds it’s shape after cutting.  The creamy filling, although also calling for the dreaded rose water (which I smartly omitted) was quite good.  All the things you want in a bite-sized sandwich cookie are here for the taking, but I would caution you to use a nice lemon, vanilla or almond extract in place of the rose and to use no more than a tablespoon, a tablespoon and a half at the most.  If you’re feeling bold or like playing around with this one, here is the recipe: 

Rose Water Cream Sandwiches

Ingredients:

1 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons cornstarch

1/4-teaspoon salt

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

1/3-cup confectioners’ sugar, sifted, plus more for dusting

3 tablespoons rose water

Candied rose petals or candied violets, for garnish (optional)

Rose Water Cream Filling

Ingredients:

4 ounces cream cheese, softened

1/4 cup confectioners’ sugar, sifted

1 1/2 teaspoons rose water

1 1/2 teaspoons milk, plus more if needed

Whisk to combine flour, cornstarch, and salt in a bowl.  In a separate bowl, beat butter and confectioners’ sugar with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, 3 to 4 minutes.  Add rose water, and mix until combined, scraping down side of bowl.  Reduce speed to low and add flour mixture; mix until just combined.  Divide dough in half, and shape into disks.  Wrap each in plastic, and chill 1 hour.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  On parchment, roll 1 disk of dough to 1/8-inch thickness; chill 15 minutes.  Cut 1 1/2-inch rounds from dough (I used a fluted biscuit cutter to get the scalloped shape), and place 1 inch apart on parchment-lined baking sheets.  Repeat with remaining disk.  Using the wide end of a pastry tip cut a 1/2-inch hole off-center in half the rounds.  Bake, rotating sheets halfway through, until barely golden, about 14 minutes.  Transfer cookies to wire racks to cool completely.  (Unfilled cookies can be stored in an airtight container up to 3 days.)

Dust cutout cookies lightly with confectioners’ sugar.  Spread a heaping 1/2 teaspoon filling (see recipe below) on whole cookies and top with cutout cookies.  Place a candied rose petal or violet in each hole.  Once sandwiched, cookies can be stored in a single layer in an airtight container at room temperature up to 1 day.

Make the rose water cream filling.  Stir together cream cheese and sugar with a wooden spoon until smooth.  Add rose water and milk, and stir until smooth (I also added a couple drops of red food coloring).  Filling can be refrigerated in an airtight container up to 3 days; bring to room temperature and stir until smooth before using.

It was such an unfortunate experience for me because I had been so looking forward to baking these cookies and the impending joy I would gleefully decree.  Alas, the only person at the barbecue who liked them was Izabella.  I even convinced her to take some home with her so it wasn’t an entirely lost cause.  Apparently her grandmother used to make a jam from rosehips when she was growing up in Poland and the cookies brought back fond memories for her.  So in the end my memory making/inducing mission was accomplished, but it is a vastly different experience from the one I hoped to have.

Fabulous pastries don’t have to be “fabulous” to all people at all times, but if they are inspiring to a good number of people some of the time then I would count the baking as a success.  Hopefully I’ll find a taste sensation over the weekend in Charleston that I can’t live without, one that helps commemorate a fun experience in someplace new.  It will mark the first time Siena got on a place and the first time that we learned how to check car seats and strollers at the airport.  I have a feeling those will be things I can do without remembering, but the food, ahhh the food is what I’m looking forward to, things fried and smothered in some sort of gravy, coated with powdered sugar or any combination of those two things.  If I could live my life in a vat of gravy I would.  It’s just who I am.