BOOK/A TABLE - The Manderley Cocktail

I just caught up with a great documentary—Becoming Hitchcock: The Legacy of Blackmail—which explores Alfred Hitchcock’s early style and defining techniques developed during his transition to talkies. The doc also ventures into The Master’s use of food, such as the sandwiches in Psycho, the ominously illumined, potentially fatal glass of milk in Suspicion and the dinner menus batted about in Rebecca. The novel Rebecca by Daphne duMaurier is among my all-time favorites and once again I have my high school teacher to thank for introducing it to us in our list of required reading, along with A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

Rebecca is a mystery foremost, but it’s also a tale of romantic suspense surrounding loss—and what is perceived of as love. The memory of Rebecca, the former mistress at Manderley, haunts the newly married bride who is ill-equipped to take her place as head of the great house. It doesn’t help things that there is an evil housekeeper lurking about (in the form of Mrs. Danvers), still obsessed with Rebecca.

Below is an elegant cocktail based on the novel. In composing his drink, the creator has taken references to the rose garden at Manderley and the civilized sherry served to its guests. There’s also a dash of Campari involved, in a sly nod to Mrs. Danvers’s bitter attitude.

Manderley Cocktail
Serves one

First make rosewater syrup; heat 250 ml (about 8 1/2 ounces) of rosewater to the boiling point in a saucepan. Take it of the heat and stir in 400 ml (13 1/2 ounces) of caster sugar stirring until all the sugar has dissolved. Let cool somewhat and then pour into a clean bottle. Will last 2-3 weeks in the fridge.

Ingredients:
4 cl (about 1 1/2 ounces) cognac
2 cl (about 1 ounce) dry sherry
1,5 cl (about 1/2 ounce) rosewater syrup
1 dash of Campari
Lemonade

Method:
Stir the ingredients in a stirring glass full of ice until well chilled. Pour into a chilled cocktail glass and top with a dash of lemonade.

Do enjoy!

 

BOOK/A TABLE - Mad About the Melt

In anticipation of Hallowe’en, I'll be featuring a few frightening reads and recipes all this month—kicking things off with a tribute to the Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock. Read on, if you dare...

Back in 1980, when my friends and I were in 7th grade, we did the impossible. At least, our feat was something that would be considered quite unfathomable to the teens and tweens of today (and I daresay more than a few parents)—we sat, glued together in front of a television in the dark and, uninterrupted by any distractions, watched Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho in all its jaw-clenching entirety for the first time.

I will always remember that night and appreciate that my friends agreed to walk me the few blocks home afterward, certain as I was that although it was only a movie...only a movie...a knife-wielding madman was nevertheless hiding somewhere in a bush along the way.

In Robert Bloch’s novel Psycho, Norman offers Mary some sustenance upon her arrival to the Bates Motel. “The kitchen was a complement of the parlor—lined with ceiling-high glassed-in cupboards grouped about an old-fashioned sink with a hand-pump attachment...and the long wooden table bore a welcome display of sausage, cheese and homemade pickles in glass dishes scattered about on the red-and-white checkered cloth.”

I think it’s safe to say that Bloch was a fan of the hyphen.

Anyway, in the movie version, Norman gives Mary some kind of uninteresting sandwich instead of the aforementioned display, when what he really should have served is the outrageous tuna melt from the Golden Diner under the Manhattan Bridge. I can’t help but think things might have turned out differently for all involved if Norman had only cut into this sandwich instead of...well, never mind. 

Golden Diner’s Tuna Melt
Yield: 4 sandwiches
Recipe from Sam Yoo
Adapted by Alexa Weibel

Ingredients:
For the Tuna Salad
⅓ cup mayonnaise (preferably Hellmann’s)
¼ cup minced bread and butter pickles
1½ teaspoons yellow mustard (preferably Frank’s)
Scant ½ teaspoon distilled white vinegar
¼ teaspoon smoked paprika
¼ teaspoon garlic powder
¼ teaspoon onion powder
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 (5-ounce) cans yellowfin tuna packed in water, drained (all of the water squeezed out)
⅓ cup minced red onion
⅓ cup minced celery
½ teaspoon Tabasco (or to taste)
Salt

For the Sandwiches:
6 tablespoons softened unsalted butter
8 slices rye bread (or other sandwich bread)
Salt-and-vinegar potato chips
6 slices American Cheese

Preparation
Step 1
Prepare the tuna salad: In a medium bowl, combine the mayonnaise, minced pickles, mustard, vinegar, paprika, garlic powder and onion powder, then slowly drizzle in the olive oil with one hand while whisking the mixture with the other. Add the drained tuna, red onion and celery; fold to combine. Season to taste with Tabasco and salt; refrigerate until chilled, at least 1 hour and up to 2 days.
Step 2
Cook the sandwiches: Heat a griddle or large skillet over medium heat. Meanwhile, lightly butter one side of each slice of bread. Working in batches as needed, add the bread to the heated griddle, buttered-side down, and divide the cheese among 4 slices of bread, tearing cheese to fit in a single layer (1½ pieces per slice of bread). Cook until the cheese is melted and the bread is crispy and golden, about 4 minutes. Transfer toasts to a large cutting board for assembly.
Step 3
Divide the cold tuna mix among 4 slices (about ½ cup each), schmearing it to cover each piece from edge to edge. Add a handful of chips on top and close the sandwiches with the other slices of bread, toasted-side up. Using a serrated knife, cut sandwiches in half diagonally and serve while the bread is warm.

P.S. Speaking of Hitch...it’s Hitchcocktober at Village East by Angelika (181-189 2nd Ave, NYC) when they will be serving up a smorgasboard of Alfred Hitchcock’s finest films on the big screen every Wednesday in October, finishing up with Psycho on the 30th-31st. Go to angelikafilmcenter.com for more info.

Thanks to Rachel Vanni for the tuna sandwich pic from The New York Times!

 

BOOK/A TABLE - Vichyssoise

Somewhere during that wicked half-world I’m choosing to call high school, I discovered Tallulah Bankhead. 

I happened to catch All About Eve on The Great Entertainment, a classic film series hosted by the genial Frank Avruch back in the 80’s, when ferns covered the earth. Mr. Avruch informed us in his opening commentary that Hollywood lore suggests Bette Davis may have patterned her role as the glamorous Margo Channing in All About Eve after the magnificent, legendary Tallulah Bankhead. Who? 

Mr. Avruch sang the praises of this beautiful, throaty-voiced actress who starred in Alfred Hitchcock’s Lifeboat. Loved Hitch, but had never seen that. And as much as I followed legendary actresses around, I had never heard of Tallulah Bankhead—and keep in mind any research I did from thereon out preceded googling by about thirty years.

Of course, I was intrigued by Tallulah. I loved Bette Davis “playing her” in All About Eve so why wouldn’t I love the original model? I then scoured the TV Guide every week to find when Lifeboat was going to appear on television so I could record it on my parents’—you ready—VCR. I didn’t have to wait for too long, as I recall, and finally got to see Miss Bankhead in action. She swiftly became my heroine, a woman after my own heart. See her for yourself: stranded in a lifeboat, clad in a devastating fur (and soon stripped of it), fighting off the Germans, and at least one crudely tattooed love interest. With a screenplay by John Steinbeck, plus Hitchcock, plus Tallulah to infinity, the math is easy. 

Fate stepped in further when I found a hard-bound first edition copy of Tallulah, My Autobiography, handsomely displayed on a sales rack in an antique store and still in its pristine dust jacket from 1952. I bought it and devoured it in one sitting, having never read such a testament to life (and living!) before.

There’s a chapter in Tallulah about her house (“Windows”) in Pound Ridge, NY. Tending to a simple garden like the one she had has always been a dreamy secret of mine. She wrote: “My vegetable garden? Nothing to brag about. Just enough ground to raise chives for the vichyssoise, mint for the juleps.” 

Now, since I posted here about mint juleps recently, I figured I’d finish the thought with a recipe for a cool vichyssoise to ease you into summer.

P.S. I still have my copy of Tallulah and I cling to it like a bible: I’m still fascinated.

Vichyssoise
From Saveur magazine

Serves 8

Ingredients  
4 Tbsp. (2 oz.) unsalted butter
4 leeks, white and light green parts only, thinly sliced
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
5 medium potatoes (about 2¼ lbs.), peeled and thinly sliced
Kosher salt
2 cups whole milk
2 cups light cream 
1 cup heavy cream
2 Tbsp. finely chopped chives

Method
STEP 1
In a large pot over medium-low heat, melt the butter. Add the leeks and onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft but not browned, about 20 minutes. Add the potatoes, 4 cups water, and salt to taste, and turn up the heat to high to bring it to a boil. Turn down the heat to medium-low, and continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are soft, 50–60 minutes.
STEP 2
Set a fine sieve over a medium bowl and strain the soup, pressing and scraping the solids with a spoon. Wipe the pot clean and return the strained soup to it. Whisk in the milk and light cream, bring the soup to a boil over high heat, then remove from heat and let cool.
STEP 3
Set the sieve over a medium bowl and strain the soup again, pressing and scraping with the spoon. Discard any solids that remain in the sieve. Stir the heavy cream into soup, then cover and refrigerate until chilled, for at least 2 and up to 24 hours. Season soup with salt to taste just before serving.
STEP 4
To serve, divide the vichyssoise among soup bowls and garnish with chives.

Below: I had the opportunity to visit the Bankhead manse in Pound Ridge for an article I wrote. The garden’s over my left shoulder.