Rustic Rhubarb

I was just listening to jazz on the radio in the car.  The DJ was talking about it being a misty kind of day, the kind that you want to curl up and listen to John Coltrane…a musician I love dearly.  What a nice idea, taking the time to sit around and listen to music you love, relaxing and enjoying everything you work so hard for.  I like it, so I decided to sit a spell myself and casually write while stroking the head of one of our cats.

It is misty out, smoke-y in fact.  Smoke from chimneys nearby is hanging in the damp air as I step out into the backyard, and my pink azaleas are screaming out with color.  Burning logs mingle with a BBQ grill somewhere down the street, juicy burgers being cooked in a lazy pre-summer fashion.  I think the casualness of it all is what strikes me, life slowed down to an enjoyable pace because of the thick, cool gray air hanging about.  Maybe people are content too because it was such a beautiful spring day yesterday and having the awareness of more bright days to come makes today just right and welcome somehow.

The smoke in the air, and this week’s dessert put me in mind of summertime out on a farm my family and I used to visit as a kid.  I had a great-uncle and aunt, Jack and Jerry, who lived way out in the country on many acres of land where they raised cattle and probably all sorts of other things I have no memory of.  What I do recall is BBQ and rhubarb.  A strange thing to recall, maybe, but those are the two prominent things I remember about the visits as it pertains to food.

I do remember them being a bit eccentric and strange, but as a kid, older people can seem a tad odd.  I got the impression they never left the farm much, actually I think I was told they never left the farm (at least not together) for fear of someone robbing them.  We all have our quirky ancestors I suppose, and mine are certainly no exception.  Uncle Jack was a commander in the Navy who retired from the military to become an engineer for N.A.S.A. where he worked on the engines for the Apollo space program.  After all that he decided to get away from it all and run a cattle farm…I can certainly appreciate that.

The fun part of the visits to Jack and Jerry’s was getting to play on the metal fences out near the barn/smokehouse.  I think it was a long series of metal gates forming a pen or stall that the cattle would run through (on their way to where I don’t know), but I know sometimes they ended up in that smokehouse and came out as brisket.  It’s good as a kid to know where your food is coming from, and I don’t think enough kids today get the opportunity to connect with where their food derives.  I loved that brisket.  My family loved that brisket, and it was always a highlight of our visit. 

For some reason rhubarb pie keeps occurring to me in connection with these visits, though I don’t remember actually liking rhubarb as a kid.  It is a rather tart stalk with poisonous leaves, and without a lot of sugar it’s not something I find particularly palatable.   Aunt Jerry grew rhubarb on the farm and used to give it to my mom and grandma to freeze and make a pie with, but it wasn’t something we had very often. 

Rhubarb is at its seasonal peak right now and I wanted to find a recipe to feature its luscious, vibrantly colored (almost jeweled) stalks.  You can deal with rhubarb just like you would celery with a quick rinse followed by trimming off the ends to make sure there is no dirt or remaining parts of the leaves.

While looking through April’s Bon Appetit, there were multiple recipes featuring rhubarb and the one I chose was a Galette.  I haven’t made a galette in quite awhile and it seemed like a fun thing to do because of it’s imprecision.  It’s really a free form tart that you roll out the dough, dump in your filling and casually fold up the sides.  (Okay, I admit to arranging the rhubarb in a slightly OCD fashion, but I had time on my side).  It seems fitting for a day when I’m trying to lay low and chill but still quench my sweet tooth.  The crust is very simple, and though the recipe tells you to make it by hand (which is certainly proper), it can be easily done in a food processor…no muss, no fuss.  The filling is as simple as trimming your rhubarb stalks into 2-inch long matchsticks and tossing with sugar to get the juices flowing.

This isn’t a fancy dessert, it’s a rustic dessert for the people, farmers and city dwellers alike, made from a down-home ingredient that regular old people use when it’s available and freeze for when it isn’t.   Now if I just had a tangy brisket sandwich with a little coleslaw on top my fantasy would be complete. 

It’s hard to get good BBQ in New York City, but that makes the taste something to look forward to when visiting my family back in Missouri.  Though Jack and Jerry aren’t around any longer, their legendary BBQ lives on in my mind along with a nice slice of rhubarb pie…and I think there were some scary dogs in they’re somewhere too, but I’ve tried to block that out.  It’s just who I am.

Births and Days

You know what I remember about last weekend?  Cheese.  A constant barrage, unending, flowing mountains, rivers and streams of cheese.  I do admit to loving it, second only to chocolate as a food item for satisfying my deepest cravings…but I quite possibly had my fill.  Maybe that’s not true.  Like all good things, moderation is the key, but it’s funny how celebrations and cheese seem to go together.  It could be the company I keep, for they all seem to be cheese-heads. Happily they also have a penchant for a sweet from time to time.

It was a particularly busy weekend.  All weekends seem busy lately.  I guess I have to put the blame on spring because I can think of nothing else.  Everyone has tossed off that winter coat of hibernation and wants to get out and “live, live, live”!  I’m no stranger to this and could be as much to blame as anyone.  Aside from loving a good party I really like to stay busy.  Idle hands and devil’s playgrounds aside, I’m not very good at sitting still even when tired.  Sometimes you just need some sugar-extracted energy to keep the party rolling.  My run-down workaday week remedy: the tried and true sugar cookie.  This is the same cookie I made at Christmas-time to give as gifts, but it also makes a great quick and fun to dessert to take to an upscale or low-key birthday party.

Our good friend Randall had her birthday last Saturday.  We started the weekend off (Friday night) with an extravagant dinner at Picholine.  This is the same restaurant owned by the chef of Artisanal, but it’s finer dining and less bistro.  The chef is known for his love of cheeses, and this is why Randy chose the place.  She could possibly be the biggest cheese-head I know, and I’ve gotten some of my love for specific types of cheese from her.  She always has a selection on hand of new and interesting things as well as old favorites at most of her gatherings.

Saturday night we had a party at Axis Theatre’s beautifully renovated office space.  It was a fun time full of people I hadn’t seen in quite some time, many with significant others and kids in tow.  We are getting to an age where everyone seems to have kids, and it’s exciting.  Sometimes the kids are the most interesting guests at the party and are certainly entertaining.  They also love sugar cookies.  I’m sure their moms and dads love a large open table full of goodies (such as sugar cookies) that their young children can easily access and choke down four or five before anyone notices that they are racing across the ceiling.  Next time I might need to bring some higher pedestals to put them on…

Randall seemed to have a great time being surrounded by friends and yes, cheeses!  There was a spread from Murray’s on the table that would put anyone to shame and I’m not afraid to admit I ate some of everything.  Stinky, salty, hard, soft and downright funky cheeses with our friend Paul’s homemade bread, some crackers and a chilled glass of sparkling apple cider.  Who wouldn’t be happy?  The cookie shapes I chose this time were in honor of Randy.  First were the “R” and “S”, which are her initials.  The second were the bones in honor of her love of dogs, particularly her dogs Vivian and Leonard.  We managed to go through five-dozen cookies without batting an eye and I couldn’t have been more pleased.

To carry our cheese mongering even further, we had brunch with our friends Izabella and Jonathan on Sunday afternoon.  What do you think we had to eat?  You would be correct if you said cheese.  I think of J & I both as cheese connoisseurs, and from time to time we get a tasty morsel from one of Jonathan’s many trips around the globe (he’s a pilot).  I remember the first time we all had cheese together was at a symphony performance in Central Park in the summer.  It was a warm day with a blanket full of food on the lawn, listening to music under the stars and followed up by a fireworks display over the park.  That was a good day, and some good cheese I might add.

Our Sunday brunch was nice and we talked about home projects, gardening and their impending baby shower!  We decided to have it at the end of May since Izabella is due at the end of July.  It seems like time has just flown by, and their baby will be here before you know it!

Finally, there is no cheese involved in this last tale other than “saying cheese”!!!  Nathan and Andrea finally had their baby, Finn, and we were invited to meet him at the hospital!  He is absolutely adorable and tiny and precious, he even let me hold him for a bit without crying so I think he’s going to be a good guy when he grows up.  Apparently he is quite the little eater, much like his dad, and hopefully we can look forward to many farmer’s market excursions in the future possibly wearing a cute sun hat…Finn wearing the hat, not me silly.

It’s so strange to have someone close to you have a baby.  I’ve known Andrea for many years now, and Nathan for quite a few as well.  I knew her long before they met, and was happy to discover down the road of a secret work romance going on between the two.  Here we are now, a wedding come and gone, a wedding cake come and gone and a baby now enters our midst to change everything.  We “Sex and the City” girls are growing up too, just like the movies.  I’m still not sure if Andrea is Carrie or Miranda, maybe a little bit of both, but I still stand by that I’m a Samantha all the way.  As Carrie would say, “we will always have New York”, but now we get to have families and houses and full lives that we never quite dared believe would happen when we were in our twenties.  Good things are worth waiting for.

Several more of our friends are “due” in the next couple of months and I guess that means the baking business will eventually grow.  I mean, somebody is going to have to make cupcakes, cookies and cakes for all of these birthday parties.  I certainly hope I’m the one they ask to bring the goods.  It makes me happy to do it, even in the midst of a busy life.  My life probably wouldn’t be so busy if I didn’t have so many good friends, and for that all the effort is worth it in the end.  I’m very thankful.  It’s just who I am.

P.S. In hind site, maybe I should have made a cheesecake this week.

Simple Observations

If you sit quietly for just a moment you can hear the birds chirping outside.  They are in a great mood because spring is here and bugs and worms are up for grabs.  The cats are also happy because they can sit and watch the birds from the window, imagining if they come just a little bit closer they’ll be able to catch one with a mighty pounce.  It’s animal nature to be on the hunt, always on the prowl for the next meal headed down the food chain.  It’s a respectable and inescapable part of our lives, one I am certainly happy to indulge. 

This week’s dessert is a perfect example of acquiescing to the call of the wild.  Now, being in New York City most days of the week, a different kind of wild takes precedent.  Many times the wild is the people, and you are trying to avoid the next jam or cluster on the street, or possibly the dog droppings left on the sidewalk some not very helpful owner forgot to clean up.   Maybe the wild element is chasing the next bargain or sale in some cute boutique that just opened down the street from another cute boutique you used to frequent.  But maybe, the best “wild” of all is the feeling that comes over you from the scent of food from a street vendor or the visual of a flower or grocery display as you pass in front of a window.  There are so many chances for an urge to take over in a city such as New York.

For me, my urge was found in none other than Grand Central Station.  The marketplace contained within is always bursting forth with bounty.  Every Friday night, after a long workweek, I like to casually stroll down its long isle in search of something to take home.  Usually it’s a nice big block of Parmesan cheese from Murray’s.  Sometimes it’s cured meats, sometimes flowers and occasionally a loaf of bread falls into my hands when I find I don’t have time to make some of my own.  The find this time was a package of kumquats.

To be honest, I’ve never purchased kumquats before.  I don’t know that I’ve ever even eaten a kumquat (at least knowingly), and boy have I been missing out!  There they were, just sitting in the corner of a fruit stand...waiting.  It was the color that called to me, that instinctive part of me switched on and I knew I had to have them.  Having never eaten the fruit I didn’t know what I was getting, and I had to look at the package label to even know what they were.   It didn’t matter at that point, I just knew I had to take them home with me and figure out something to do with them.

I left the kumquats on the counter overnight, unsure of what to do with my purchase.  In the morning I opened the package and took a bite.  Strange!!!  The flesh is sweet and the inside is sour!  It also has a bitterness I quite liked.  It made me think of lemons, grapefruits and oranges all in one, and I loved it!  Still unsure of what to do, I took the train into the city for a deep-tissue massage (the last of the birthday treats I gave to myself).

While on the train I began to do a little research on how other people use these tiny citrus fruits.  Apparently they are most commonly candied or used in jams, and are quite common in dishes around the holidays.  Well, so much for thinking I was using something “seasonal”.  I guess it still is citrus season, but I wasn't in the mood for anything too heavy or spicy with all the warm weather, so I just let the kumquats sit in the back of my mind and percolate while I went to the spa.

It was a gorgeous days outside and I brought my camera along with me in case I found any floriferous goodies to take a picture of.  I knew of a stand of trees lousy with cherry blossoms over at the NYU campus.  This space isn’t far from where I work, and every year there comes a week when the trees are in full bloom with a carpet of tulips underneath.  This is that week, and I was determined to get a photograph this year.  I somehow usually seem to miss it, and because I had time to stroll along on my way to my massage I was able to stop and really appreciate them. 

Many people were walking along and taking photographs of the exact same thing.  The urge to hold onto beauty, taking on mass form in the cameras and eyes of all the passersby, I love it when that happens.  There is something to capturing a moment all your own with a camera, but seeing the same appreciation you feel on the faces of others reminds you of human connections we share.  And let’s not forget, cherry blossoms are rather pink…my favorite.

So after my excursion to the city, I decided on the train ride home what I might do with the kumquats.  I have been meaning to make a very simple cake I found a couple of months ago.  It is of course one of my dear Martha Stewart recipes for a Lemon-Fig Cake.  The great thing about this recipe is it's quickly prepared in two bowls, and no mixer is used at all.  I wanted to try this cake because I adore lemon and because the main liquid ingredient is olive oil.  I’ve certainly used vegetable oils in quickbreads and carrot cakes, but I don’t recall using olive oil.  And because I didn’t have any regular olive oil on hand I went with the extra-virgin olive oil that was in the pantry.

The recipe calls for 1-1/2 cups of dried figs, which I had, but I thought it might be nice to use only a cup of figs and add in the kumquats to round out the amount.  Because of their potency, I was afraid to use too much more for fear of throwing off the balance in the cake.  The extra-virgin olive oil was already “fruitier” than the regular version, and adding the kumquats really boosted the brightness level of this cake.  I’m sure the recipe written as is would be great, but I think my tweaks and additions made it soar (if I do say so myself).  The cake is sweet, but not overpoweringly so and you can really taste the olive oil.  It all seems very Mediterranean or Italian somehow, and the romantic in me likes that.  I’m sure you will like it too.

Inspiration is always hanging out around the corner, maybe down a dark alley from time to time, but a nicely lit shopping isle will suit me fine.  It’s good to rely on instinct and to try an ingredient you’ve never used or even tasted before.  You might be as pleasantly surprised as I was.  I’ve learned that not only are kumquats pretty to look at, but they taste amazing.  It’s all about going with your gut.  I know I do.  It’s just who I am.

Here's To The Ladies Who Brunch

My how time flies when you are having fun.  One moment you are footloose and fancy free, not a care in the world, the next…you turn 35.  I am not about to say that 35 is old, because it isn’t, but it does somehow seem to be a more substantial number than I remember being before...more concrete and potentially respectable if it weren’t me writing this.  But not only was it my birthday this past week, but also Easter.

I love Easter, not for the religious connotations that accompany its arrival, but for the color scheme.  Soft pastel colors greet you from every end isle display at the grocery store.  Chocolate bunnies, yellow chicks, kittens dressed up as rabbits…you name it and it’s there.  My most favorite thing is the Paas egg dying kit.  Ever since I was a little lamb I have enjoyed that slender box.  It contains joy in the form of colored tablets waiting for vinegar to release their potential.  Adding stickers, small round egg holders and even the box itself with it’s circle cut-outs to hold the drying eggs cause a rapture just like it did when I was six.  It’s the possibilities coming along with all of those color combinations, much like buying a new box of crayons, which gets me jazzed.

As I’ve gotten older my palette has become slightly more restrained.  This year I opted for only one color:  pink.  Some years seem more blue, some even multi-colored, but pink was all I was after.  If you’ve been reading this blog, you know I have a penchant for pink and I indulge it whenever I can.  I like having the option of all the colors but only choosing the one I really want…sort of like dating I suppose.  This year I’m dating “pink”.

And to carry my theme through I decided to make a nice platter of Pink Petits Fours to adorn my new pink, glass cake-stand my friends Izabella and Jonathan got me for my birthday.  I’ve been on a roll lately with acquiring cake stands.  The more I write and take photographs of the desserts, the more I want beautiful platters and pedestals to present them on.  It’s a vicious cycle.  I absolutely love this cake-stand and it seems right at home in the blooming garden. 

The petits fours are light and delicate little things…and a bit difficult to work with I must admit, but they sure taste great.  They are created from a genoise type cake, baked in a half sheet pan for about 15 minutes and then split open and filled with cherry preserves.  The cake is very light and moist.  What makes the batter particularly yummy is the use of almond paste, otherwise known as Marzipan.  I just love the stuff and could (and did) eat it right out of the box.  Many pastry chefs use this decadent delight to create small “sugar” sculptures on top of cakes.  It holds its shape beautifully and also takes luster dust and food colorings quite well.  But as a highlighted ingredient, it really makes these little squares otherworldly.

The cake is cut into 1-1/2 inch squares and covered in an icing made from milk, powdered sugar and just a drop of red food coloring, giving a luscious pink sheen to an already tasty bite of sweet goodness.  You could decorate the top of the squares for added effect, but I liked them just as they were:  simple and elegant for a nice spring day or Easter celebration.

Along with the holiday came the first round of truly warm weather.   It finally made it up into the 70’s and 80’s, and I loved every minute of it.  Much of my time over the past few days was spent out in the garden tidying up and setting up new patio furniture, but also having some really great meals with friends. 

On Saturday we caught up with our friends Andrea and Nathan over brunch at a fun little spot in town called Wobble Café.  I had a strawberry pan per due, which was to die for.  It was good to see the Jew family one more time before the inevitable labor occurs.  I’m sure they are both ready for the baby to be here and quite frankly the rest of us are too!

On Easter Sunday our friends Kevin and Lisa came up for a very traditional day of brunch at a brewery and a trip to the outlet mall.  What better way to spend a day of thankfulness than with good friends, eating chicken fingers and ice cream (not at the same time) and getting in on some good sales?  Our brunch took us to Peekskill, about 15 minutes from where we live, and if my memory serves is also the home of the all girl’s school where the 80's sitcom Facts of Life took place.  I can hear Mrs. Garret now, shouting “Girls, girls, girls!!!” …Ahhh, childhood.

And to top off all of that delicious eating, my birthday was yesterday.  As I said before I turned the ripe old age of 35, and for that I am grateful.  When I was younger…my early twenties let’s say, I never thought I’d live to see twenty-five.  I suppose that’s the power of youth and trying to live fast and furious.  I didn’t have a care in the world and didn’t think anything could stand in my way.  But then I did live past 25 and decided I probably had better do something with myself, so I moved to New York and tried to learn what it means to be an adult and to achieve a few things.  Here I am ten years later and realize that the wildness of my twenties translated into a passion for living which I am happy and excited to share with the many friends and loved ones I have met along the journey.  Some were at my birthday bowling party last night.

Brian arranged a really fun birthday for me starting with brunch at a wonderful gastro pub in the West Village called The Spotted Pig.  Randy, Brian and I had such a high-calorie, fabulous meal.  I’ve been there once previous with my parents and I ordered the exact same thing as before…a grilled cheese sandwich.  I don’t have the words to properly describe this sandwich.  It’s ridiculous in the best kind of way, fattening at its finest and a melting treasure you don’t ever want to stop eating.  This meal we happily followed up with a long walk through the city, a little light shopping and finally our arrival at Bowl More Lanes.

I hadn’t been bowling in years, but it was really a great time.  I got to see some pals I hadn’t hung out with in awhile, eat pigs in a blanket and egg rolls and of course bowl my heart out.  Happily I won the first game, but then it was all down hill from there.  After we finished our games, we moved to the lounge area where Brian had a devilishly chocolate cake from Crumbs Bake Shop.  It was so nice to have a cake made for me instead of making one for myself!!!  I make cakes out of love, even for myself, but sometimes it’s nice to be given the gift of pastry.

All in all, I had an amazing few days:  lots of laughs, lots of friends and lots of food.  What else can I say but thank you to everyone!  I’m a truly lucky guy and am most appreciative.  It’s just who I am.

Passover…and Then Pass Some More Please

It wasn’t until I started writing this blog that I realized how little I actually know about why we celebrate certain holidays/events.  I’m always up for a good party, but throwing a gala doesn’t require any concrete facts.  Just the fact that I’m alive and breathing today is a good enough reason to get together with friends and gorge my face…this comes as a surprise to no one I would imagine, but this week we had multiple reasons for baking and eating.

The first was to honor Passover.  Let’s be honest, I’m not a religious man, but when trying to figure out the baked good of the week I saw that a holy day of observance had once again crossed my path and I had no idea what it was about.  I always thought Passover vaguely had something to do with Easter (just because they come so close together), but ultimately it is an event unto itself celebrated by those practicing the Jewish faith.  What spurned me on to make this week’s treat, the Apricot Pecan Torte, was the fact that I wasn’t allowed to use flour.

Sure, I’ve made the irreverent and now common flourless chocolate cake from time to time and even made a Linzer Torte before when I was in pastry class, but I never gave much thought to a recipe calling for flour or specifying it’s absence.  As I took to the web once more, I was able to glean useful (if not still slightly vague) knowledge about why flour, and more to the point leavening agents, are not allowed in the preparation of breads and meals during the Passover observation.  It’s all about the rise, baby.

Apparently, according to the book of Exodus in the Bible, God struck the country of Egypt with a series of plagues…10 to be exact, until the Pharaoh released the Hebrew slaves from the bondage in which they were kept.  The tenth plague was the one where the spirit of God came down and took the first born of each family (as well as the first-born animals) as a punishment for the Jews being held captive (Not Andrea and Nathan in this instance).  The devout Hebrews were instructed to sacrifice a Spring lamb and mark their doors with it’s blood so that God would know to “Passover” this house and not kill their firstborn child.  Pretty crazy, huh?  Well, I guess this plague finally did the trick and the Jews were able to get the heck out of dodge…but they were chased of course.

Now, here is the point in our story where we come to the crux of the issue.  The slaves were fleeing so quickly that the bread they were making didn’t have time to rise, and anyone who has ever made bread knows that it can take quite a while for that dough to come up…then you have to knock it down, let it rise, knock it down again, etc…you get the point.  No one wants to do that with a bunch of angry Egyptians on their back.  Thus, in keeping with traditional folklore surrounding the celebration of Passover, no leavening agents are to be used in the making of breads…that’s why Matzo bread is so popular.

Matzo bread can be found in round balls in soups, but is commonly found in a flat (almost pita like) form.  It can be made of flour and water, which confused me at first because I thought you weren’t supposed to use flour when making Passover baked goods, but apparently it’s the rising or leavening which is the enemy here.  From what I was able to discern you can even use baking powder and baking soda if you need to because they are chemical based leavening agents, but not any fermentation based forms of rising…like with yeast.  To put an even finer point on it, I read that any bread product containing flour of any kind cannot be “worked/kneaded” for long and has to be completely baked within 18 minutes or it will be considered as something that has had time to rise and is therefore bad.  I must say it sounds a little nutty to me, but I’m not knocking anyone’s practices.  You know I love a good tradition, whatever the reason that creates it.  As a side note, it’s also mentioned that preventing the bread from rising is similar to keeping your pride or inflated ego in check.  Sounds good to me.

The whole observance is really fascinating to me and I would love to go to a Seder dinner and see the full practice.  I know wine is drunk, stories about the Exodus are told, and bitter herbs are eaten as well as lamb tying into other parts of the Exodus story.  I won’t get into all of it here, but it really is an intriguing story.

With all of that said, the flourless torte I made this week ties in nicely.  No leavening agents were used in the making of this dessert so anyone and everyone could eat it when I brought it to work today.  I have to tell you, you don’t need a special day for this one, but you will want to have your sweet tooth on hand.  It is rich and moist because it’s chalked full of apricots and eggs, a heavenly combination.  Normally with a cake, or something in that vein, flour is the mainstay of your dry ingredients, but here it is mainly sugar, dried apricots and nuts.  The recipe called for almonds, but my friend Katherine’s family has a huge organic Pecan farm in Missouri and she sends me enough nuts each Christmas to last me a good part of the year.  They keep nicely in the freezer until you are ready to use them.  Toast them in the oven at 325 degrees for 10 minutes and they become warm, fragrant and delicious.  Just make sure you cool them off completely before putting them in the food processor or the heated oils in the nuts break down the dried apricots and sugar a bit, and you wind up with more of a paste than dry ingredients (yes I did this…and it’s a pain to recover from).

The wet ingredients are mainly eggs.  You separate 8 eggs and whip both the yolks and whites separately with sugar.  This is what will ultimately give your torte the volume since there is nothing inside helping it to raise a whole lot.  At the end, you just coat it with some heated up apricot preserves and some sugar.  This baby is unbelievably moist and fruity…almost sinful.

And while we are on the subject of sinful I can’t let last night’s dinner go without mention.  As a joint, continued celebration of Jonathan and Izabella’s birthdays as well as my impending birthday we decided to have a very big splurge-y night out and went to Blue Hill at Stone Barns.  I have written about this place before, in one of my first postings in fact, but I haven’t had the pleasure of a proper dinner there in a couple of years.  It’s not something one can do everyday (unless one is wealthy and would like to become fattened like one of the Berkshire pigs on the farm), but as a special treat it’s a not to be missed experience.  I dare say that last night’s dinner may have just made the all time top 3 dinners of my life…along with experiences at the Fat Duck and Per Se.

What made last night so special was, of course the company, but the process by which we arrived at our dinner had changed greatly from previous dinners I had at this restaurant.  The main thing was the lack of choice.  All you could choose from was either a 5 or 8-course dinner (and give any restrictions you might have), but it was of the chef’s imagination in tandem with what is in season at the farm (and the surrounding farms), which wound up on the plate.  No menu, food purely driven by seasonal ingredients…I cannot describe how much this excited me.  I profess a great love for eating local and keeping with the seasons, and this dinner was the pentacle expression of my foodie love.

We got the 8 courses, I just have to say it right out, but there were so many little bites and amuse bouche that accompanied these courses…it nearly bordered on the ridiculous.  The simple preparations and presentations of vegetables were maddeningly creative. Fish and pork were put on a pedestal, bathed in complex sauces.  And truly the most insane pasta that has ever crossed my lips melted in my mouth like it was never there.  We got to hear about and see the products which were going into our food; goose eggs which made the pasta, hen eggs which were cooked in a shell of salt and hay, honeycomb brought from the hives outside and deliciously dropped into a homemade tofu and Meyer lemon dessert…Y-U-M!  Coincidentally we were also served a Sacher Torte for dessert which I thought tied in nicely with my theme of the week, though the story we were told about the pastry chef’s recipe had to do with his Austrian grandmother and not Passover, but who’s counting?  The highlight of the evening (if you can believe this) was one of the tiniest things of all…a beet burger.  Perfectly cooked sweet and sour beets placed in between two mini-sesame seed buns about the size of a quarter, dissolving on your tongue in a memory worthy of a tear of two rolling down your cheek.

The real tear inducing part is that I didn’t have my camera with me.  I would have loved to photograph the food, or photographed the huge serving table in the middle of the space full of rustic breads, wines, flowers and towering branches laden with cherry blossoms.  I would have loved to have tried to get the perfect photo of the honeycomb and the goose eggs, the dishes of cheese and elegant cocktail glasses full of scotch, but I didn’t…it’s all in my mind, an experience to be treasured and certainly not repeated in the same way ever again…and Izabella better give me all the photos she took! 

Being placed in a position where you just have to trust the chef is adventurous, a little scary and completely exhilarating.  I wish I had someone making those food decisions for me every single day.  The thought of coming home to a surprise, seasonally considered meal every night is the stuff dreams are made of.  And whether it’s a day where you can have leavened bread or not, all that is required is that it taste good.  I bet you can relate to that.  I know I can.  It’s just who I am.

                              Hellebores coming up in our garden.

Spring

A beautiful cake is a study in delicacy and patience; an act of creation based on simple science and few ingredients yielding a perfect outcome.  A towering confection made of layers and fillings or just a single layer topped with a favorite frosting, the cake is nature’s most pure and lovable dessert (next to something like an apple or an orange of course).

Spring finally came to Ossining and New York City at large.  I’ve been watching with baited breath these past few weeks, hopeful, yet realistic since it is only the latter part of March.  Usually a snowstorm comes tromping through our village the first week of April (usually quite close to my birthday), but so far the clouds seem to be shying away and the sun has blazed forth more days as of late than I can count.  I like it and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

With the temperatures climbing into the 70’s over the weekend, it was time to take to the garden once more.  The first few moments of garden cleanup are something worth relishing.  I’m sure some people would think it’s a lot of work to maintain a backyard full of flowers, but to me it’s what keeps me sane.  The earthy smell wafts up from the ground as I pull back decayed, damp leaves revealing green shoots sneaking out from underground bulbs.  It’s heavenly.  Discovering newly sprouted plants you had forgotten about planting and old favorites opening up to say hello once more is the kind of thing gardeners fantasize about for nearly 5 months…at least that’s the case in the northeast. 

Step outside without a jacket, feel the warming sun strike your skin and with a stern grip on your clippers remove an old branch with a vigorous whack.  It’s deeply satisfying.  It’s the same satisfaction (or certainly very similar) I get when a properly prepared and risen cake is pulled from the oven.  The smell, though not of leaves, has the freshness and invigorating quality of floral scent moving through branches.  The warmth of the oven is like the sun, and a secret chemical process which made the cake rise is not unlike a bulb releasing it’s treasure once the heat outside has warmed the soil just enough. 

What makes the cake so perfect?  What sets it apart from the slue of desserts we bring to parties and gatherings?  I think it must be simplicity mingled with an ability to reach towering, sculptural heights, appearing both sturdy and delicate at the same time.  It can be dressed up or down and in the end as long as it tastes good the cake is successful.  I don’t make cakes that often these days… mainly for special occasions.  They can be time consuming to do properly, and for me it’s something I want to enjoy and not rush through.  Last Saturday was one of those days where I made time to create the buttery, tall goodness known as cake.  It was a special birthday after all. 

Our dear friends Jonathan and Izabella both had their birthdays last week, 40 and 39 respectively.  I hope they don’t mind me giving out their ages, but Jonathan turning 40 is a big birthday and one worth remembering and celebrating.  As one of their gifts I decided to bake them a cake.  With the turn of good weather and impending springtime blossoms I wanted to make something fitting and seasonal as well as something I knew they would like.  I turn time and again to lemon as one of my favorite flavors, and of the several lemon related cakes I have made I know they always seem to like the ones with the lemon curd fillings and yummy coating of buttercream the best (second only to chocolate I believe).  I typically do a two layer cake, one of Martha’s recipes, as well as her recipe for lemon curd and buttercream, but I wanted to change things up a bit and returned to the Baked: New Frontiers in Baking cookbook which I used to make the whoopee pies last October as well as Lisa’s Sweet and Salty birthday cake from November.  I really like the recipes in this book, and they are full of complex flavors using multiple, easy techniques (my favorite).

Making the cake tiers was a fairly standard process as far as recipes go.  The batter is made using mostly cake flour instead of all-purpose flour.  Cake flour gives you a more delicate crumb and a lightness you don’t get when using AP flour. The zest of a lemon is incorporated into the batter as well for a subtle citrus hint.  Finally, 3 whipped egg whites are folded in at the end for additional airiness and volume…I think this is the secret of the recipe. 

Lemon curd is good in any form.  This particular recipe uses more lemon juice, and get this…less butter than I normally use.  Shocking?  I know.  Surprisingly, I loved it.  The curd is tart but sweet at the same time, and would be tasty served on a piece of cardboard let alone as a wonderful filling for cake.

The buttercream in the recipe was also different.  Normally I have made buttercream by whipping egg whites and sugar together in a double boiler, then attaching the bowl to the mixer and beating it until cool and fluffy.  This is usually followed by the addition of butter.  This recipe’s buttercream instead called for milk, flour, sugar and heavy cream being cooked in a saucepan for nearly 20 minutes (similar to making a roux) and then beating this concoction in the mixer with butter and lemon curd…again, less butter was called for than I’m accustomed to.  Strangely, it gave the frosting structure without being heavy. 

All of the aforementioned parts lead up to a light and fluffy, strong but dainty, divine lemon cake.  I can’t find the recipe for this one online, so I suggest you buy the book and get started STAT!!!…Or come over and help us finish this one because four people shouldn’t try to eat a whole 3-layer cake by themselves!!!  (But it is fun to try.)

Making a cake should be fun.  It should be an excuse to celebrate special days as well as the not so special.  Sometimes there are hours to spend seeking perfection with an offset spatula and a creamy coating of buttercream, other times there are just enough moments to lay on the frosting in a wild and hedonistic way, give a dusting of sanding sugar or cocoa and get to the party.  However much time you have, always bake your cake with a smile on your face and happy thoughts running through your head…and maybe a cup of coffee to keep you zipping along.  It’s the best therapy money can buy and your friends and family will feel the love.  I think cakes are magical.  It’s just who I am.

Vaguely Irish

Another strangely beloved holiday has come and gone; the day of green clovers, rainbows, pots of gold, little ginger bearded men protecting their lucky charms and of course beer drinkers.  I am referring to none other than St. Patrick’s Day. 

Traditionally seen as a religious holiday falling in the middle of the Catholic Lent observance, St Patrick’s Day has now seemingly become an excuse to begin drinking at 8:00am on March 17th, breaking up an otherwise dull workweek.  I mean, I’m all for celebration, but being confronted first thing on the morning commute with a bunch of obnoxious tween drinkers is not the pairing I’m looking for with a nice cup of coffee…and I can only imagine the hangover coming along with such a full day of imbibing.  Ahhh, drink on my friends, drink on.

As I am want to do as of late, I started looking into this “holiday” trying to discover its roots and purpose.  I know we have a huge parade in New York City marked with a lot of crazed energy and green beer, but how did this whole thing begin in the first place?  Clearly it has to do with someone named Patrick who was a saint, but the why and how I never considered.

A young man kidnapped from his home in Britain, the later to be famous St. Patrick was brought to Ireland and made a slave/shepherd for six years before a vision from God told him to escape and return home.  While back in England, he had another angelic vision telling him to become a priest.  Once his training was complete, he returned to Ireland to bring Christianity to the nature worshipping pagans that resided there.  This removal of paganism became known as “driving the snakes” out of Ireland. 

The legends surrounding the man Patrick say he may have used the clover as a teaching device representing the holy trinity (most clovers only have 3 leaves) and he died on the 17th of March in the 5th century.  Because this day falls during Lent, the time when many good Catholics give up one or more of their vices, it is used as a reprieve of sorts allowing people to go back to their drinking, maming and marauding for one special day.  The old saying about feast or famine seems to apply in the case.  Like a dehydrated man eating sand at a dessert mirage, beer endlessly flies into gullets for 24 hours as everyone tries to cram in as much vice as possible before returning to their Lent observance.  A suggestion if I may...give up Lent and drink regularly.

Traditions for this holiday also came with the influx of Irish immigrants to America during the potato famine.  People began to wear green, eat corned beef (a thriftier cut of meat marinated for a length of time to tenderize it) and cabbage and the annual parades began first in Boston then moving to New York. 

Now that we’ve had our history lesson, I can focus on the part I like to observe:  the making of Irish Soda Bread.  For the past couple of years now I’ve made this quickbread as a tasty treat to accompany just about anything, but it’s also very delicious on its own or served with salty butter.  I remember my grandmother making it when I was a kid, and to be completely honest, I don’t think I really cared for it very much.  It has raisins as well as a 1/4-cup of caraway seeds and buttermilk. As I have grown older and my tastes have changed, I’ve found a soft place in my heart for this sweet and salty bread.

Combining whole milk and apple-cider vinegar, which curdles within 5 minutes becoming thick and rich, creates the buttermilk in this recipe.  Most recipes calling for buttermilk use only a little bit and you end up having the rest of the carton left in the fridge for ages, eventually spoiling, left sad and alone in the doorway.  I like that you make your own and don’t have any leftover to feel guilty about.

I also tried to observe the day by sporting a shirt with a clover on the front.  It was a present given to me by a friend I hadn’t seen in 7 years until earlier this week.  One of my best friends from college, Lisa, came to visit for work.  She, Brian and myself had a lovely dinner at a place called Artisanal.  It is known for it’s cheeses and has a huge cave on site full of beautifully ripening discs of frormagerie heaven.  Can you say fondue???  I know you can!  Both the meal and the company were spectacular followed by a lovely pairing of citrus desserts (my favorite).

The other big dessert treat I tried out this week were Chocolate-Black Pepper Cookies.  This one does sound a little strange, but if you’ve ever had a piece of chocolate mixed with a little bit of cayenne you have found greatness.  These cookies call for regular black pepper (which is what I used), but I’m sure the cayenne would be amazing.  I’m really into the pairing of salty and sweet, so I figured why not add a little pepper into the mix and see what turns up?  Again, these cookies are super easy to make and can be done with the hurried time schedule of a busy gal on the go.  Rich and fudge-like with a peppery bite, these cookies are definitely worth a try.  My only recommendation is leaving off the additional pepper called for in the recipe.  Pepper goes into the dry ingredients as well as gets ground on top of the cookies right before they go into the oven.  I tried them both ways and found the cookies with the extra pepper to be a bit cloying, but hey, that’s just me.  Do what you will.

As the weather has begun to warm this week I have taken to eating my lunch outside once more.  I’m working near Washington Square Park and can easily pick up some food and go bask in the rays of a warming sun while listening to jazz bands play in the background.  In a word…bliss.

New York City in the springtime is truly one of the most magical places on Earth.  The people begin to smile again, the trees start to bud and the tulips are poking their leaves out everywhere just waiting to have enough energy to cover the landscape with an array of colorful flowers.  I think I appreciate the plant life in the city even more than out wear I live because it’s in such stark contrast to the concrete jungle surrounding it.  Those plants work hard, and are rewarded with the shear number of people who witness and appreciate their blossoming. 

I didn’t go clover hunting on my lunchtime excursions, but I found treasure just the same on an average afternoon in the middle of the city:  It’s a park with sun and laughter and a place to breathe for a moment in an otherwise hectic day.  I suggest packing a loaf of soda bread and some chocolate cookies for a picnic.  It’s just who I am.