What Were You Doing New Year's Eve?

 

Happy New Year! My fella and I had a ball with a cleverly composed collection of companions! I set the table with pink candles stuck into Russian-inspired in tone candelabras with fir boughs draping forth from a homey Burleigh ware pitcher, surrounded by pine cones and dried Victorian blue hydrangeas on a framed antique map over a vintage runner scattered with Japanese tangerines. We selected the red wines ahead of time and placed a host of whites in the refrigerator. Several bottles of Perrier-Jouet Champagne and prosecco joined them in anticipation of a toast at midnight! I don't mind telling you we put out paper napkins, "silver" plastic forks, knives and spoons and Chinet appetizer and dinner plates for our guests. Nobody seemed to mind and my, how much clean-up time we saved ourselves!

Our buffet menu was simple and elegant--links are below.

We started out with duck liver mousse--and do make this the day before you plan serving it, allowing this delicacy a chance to settle in. John Greeley's (executive chef at '21') steak tartare was utterly perfect and was eaten quickly by our guests. A fantastic French onion soup followed, courtesy of Julia Child, poured into cups and topped with individual slivers of French bread toasts covered with grated Swiss, Emmental and Parmesan cheeses. A salad of red and green lettuces is seen here, tossed with shallot vinaigrette and crisped prosciutto. We couldn't find escarole, as suggested in the recipe, so we improvised--improvisation is as much of a necessity as is a skillet or a spatula in the kitchen.

The peas! And mushrooms too went into our penne pasta (instead of garganelli) with cream sauce. Since the recipe called for prosciutto, we subbed wild mushrooms to avoid redundancy while bulking up on meaty flavor. It was delicious!

MENU FOR NINE
To Start
Duck Liver Mousse with Armagnac Cream
Steak Tartare from '21'
Julia Child's French Onion Soup (Soupe a l'onion)

A Superb Salad
Red and Green Lettuces with Crisped Prosciutto and Shallot Vinaigrette

The Pasta Course
Penne with Peas and Parmesan and Wild Mushrooms in a Cream Sauce

To Sup
Bloody Mary Steaks--Baby made this up. He marinated several pounds of flank steak with a Bloody Mary mixture overnight and a scoche of Russian Standard vodka. After that, the steaks were a snap to cook, arriving to the table medium rare in less than 15 minutes (including six minutes allowing the meat to rest before serving).

For Something Completely Sweet
Pepperidge Farm Chocolate and Coconut Cakes. Store bought. Love. Colorfully decorated the silver serving tray with more of the tangerines.

Derby 2013

Derby may have left the gates and galloped past this year, but I do believe the memories will linger, at least for me. We had a real humdinger of a party--and behold the beautiful lilacs in the waning afternoon light!

And no, my horses didn't win. Orb ran fleetingly by Falling Sky and Slim Shady. 

Of course, there were mint juleps! We actually froze them this year and served them right out of the blender and they were marvelous. Equal parts bourbon and simple syrup (2:1 water and sugar boiled with lemon wedges and cooled). A fistful of mint went into the blender filled with ice and we topped each individual icy pour with dark rum. Biscuits and tomatoes along with Benedictine cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches were sampled shortly thereafter, once our guests were duly situated. I took advantage of seasonal ramps and shallots this year, substituting both for yellow onions, to quite good effect. The more traditional recipe is here and the picture is below, our Pepperidge Farm thin white bread having been shorn of its crust, stuffed, sliced and stacked on a vintage cake stand.

The annual shrimp and peppers served over grits made their annual appearance, courtesy of Martha Stewart's Menus for Entertaining.

Grasshopper Mousse for dessert, laden with creme de menthe, was right out of a 70's dinner party. I wrested the recipe from the Leah Tinari, the owner of Fatta Cuckoo in Manhattan. Her mother was kind enough to pass on her secret. Our friend was kind enough to make it and bring it over. She said it's so easy and everybody loved it--and the recipe makes a ton! She also made Crack Pie, that is similar to Chess Pie, and served at Momofuku Milk Bar in our fair city. It was beyond. But that's a different post entirely.

Grasshopper Mousse
Ingredients
2 large boxes of vanilla pudding mix
6 cups heavy cream
3/4 cups creme de menthe
1/2 cup creme de cacao
Package of Oreo cookies

Method
Whip pudding and heavy cream together and gradually add both liqueurs. Whip until mousse-like and desired consistency is reached. Give it a taste and add a tblsp or two more of liquor for a stronger flavor. Place in a container and chill. Crush Oreo cookies in food processor.

Assemble
Place some cookies crumbs in bottom of martini glass. Add grasshopper mousse, top with whipped cream and sprinkle on more cookie crumbs.

Our rosy centerpiece for the table!

Soundtrack: XTC, Skylarking; Sippie Wallace, Sippie; Atlantic Blues: Piano; Antonio Carlos Jobim, Sun Sea and Sand Favourites

Chilled Potato Soup with Spinach

Long about the time I was in high school and somewhat beyond, Pepperidge Farm used to make the most delicious Vichyssoise to which I used to add thyme. I’ve since made my own version, chopping the leeks, boiling the potatoes and whatnot, but in a pinch I go for Campbell’s Cream of Potato Soup. I still add thyme and ever since I saw Madonna’s Truth or Dare movie with that curious scene when she's on the phone slurping something out of a tureen that I thought was spinach, that goes into the pot as well. A friend recently informed me that Madonna was actually having miso soup with seaweed. I've never made that but here is my recipe for Chilled Potato Soup with Spinach that I would like to propose as an absolute delight for summer. And yes, you can still make your own Vichyssoise and perhaps think to add thyme and spinach!

Chilled Potato Soup with Spinach
Serves two hungry people
Ingredients
1 can of Campbell’s Cream of Potato Soup
1 can of spinach (I like Popeye’s!)
1 cup of milk (2% if you'd rather)
2 teaspoons of thyme
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Several grinds of salt

Method
Over a low flame, add the can of soup to your pan and whisk in the milk. Continue to whisk occasionally, adding in the thyme. When the mixture becomes warm add in the can of spinach and let them get acquainted. Simmer slowly, tossing in the pepper and salt. Once heated through, let cool by placing the pan near an open window or something—when you can lift it without using oven mitts, put in the refrigerator to chill it thoroughly, at least two hours or so.

Enjoy!

An Eggs-ellent Easter!

I served my Jews ham on Easter, which happened to coincide this year with the last day of Passover. They couldn't eat any of the leavened items such as the croissants and Pepperidge Farm cake but boy did they chow down on practically everything else.

The ham in question was prepared from Martha Stewart's Menus for Entertaining, featured in the Celebrating Spring section. I've been wanting to make this for years! After securing a really good smoked ham from our local market (10 lbs for only $15!), I made small incisions all about the ham, stuffing them with garlic and alternately sprigs of thyme, chervil, and basil leaves. I laid out bunches of parsley, chives and tarragon in a roasting pan with slices of blood oranges topped with basil and a few dried bay leaves and smashed cloves of garlic still in their skins here and there. The studded ham went on top, I poured a bottle of white wine over the whole thing and it went into a 325 degree oven for 2 and 1/2 hours covered in foil--the first and last half hours were foil-less, to brown the meat. After removing the ham from the pan, while letting it rest, covered for a 1/2 hour before serving, I strained the cooking liquid into a sauce pan and simmered it down by half. The resulting sauce was little salty but the ham was absolutely delicious anyway, quite on its own!

We also served smoked salmon, whitefish salad and I made a meat pie.

Homemade croissants from Cuisine at Home took three days. I even started early in case they were an utter disaster and had to buy some Pillsbury Grands or something. Feeling it was going well, I froze them and then thawed them overnight before serving on Sunday. Yes, they were tricky to make the first time out, but I was so pleased with the results I would definitely make the effort again.

The Basic Steps:

DAY 1 Make your dough and butter block (three sticks of butter put together and pounded flat). Let sit overnight.

DAY 2 Roll out the dough to a 12" x 15" rectangle, or something reasonably similar. Place butter block on top, folding top and then bottom over, like a business envelope. Do this twice, with 35-45 minutes in between. After the third time, leave it in the refrigerator overnight.

DAY 3 Roll out the dough to an 11" x 23" rectangle. Cut the dough in half horizontally and then cut the halves into 3" x 5" rectangles, cutting those into triangles. Roll them up, coat them with egg wash and put them in a 400 degree oven for 18 to 22 minutes, taking care that they don't burn.

Here they are, fresh from the oven...

...and like a proud Papa, I delivered them to the table!

Another glimpse of the Butchers' Frittata. Thanks to the Williams-Sonoma pan, this hearty 10 egg dish with sausage, bacon (I subbed for ham), mushrooms, white cheddar cheese and scallions was most eggs-ellent.

So what are those side dishes lurking about (note the ham is gone)? Roasted carrots with cayenne pepper in an orange glaze with mint; roasted asparagus tossed with lime juice and olive oil, topped with bearnaise sauce (I used a package of the Knorr mix--much easier much cheaper, and pretty good!), peas in butter sauce with vermouth-soaked cocktail onions.

Here's the Pepperidge Lemon Layer cake my guests devoured. I would serve this store-bought cake to the Queen of England were she ever to visit. I love it, always have. Here, I dressed it up with some outrageously ripe blackberries.


I put all of my eggs in one stoneware, oven-ready basket, used here purely for decorative purposes, and as a vessel to hide M&Ms and Starburst jelly beans. Rather pretty, don't you find?

Et voila, the peeps de resistance!



Soundtrack: Sergio Mendes and Brasil '66, Foursider; Pizzicato Five, MADE in USA; Austin Powers Soundtrack; Beck, Midnite Vultures; The Ting Tings, We Started Nothing

Scrambled Eggs

The first thing I ever learned to cook when I was a kid was scrambled eggs. My old cousin (well, she seemed old even then) taught me. If I had to guess, if anybody had such an influence on me growing up, in the kitchen or otherwise, it was Annie. I don't know what creates memories in the minds of children; what causes memory to linger there, or why, nor do I know why influences stemming from memory set up residence alongside any of it. I only suppose it's a random, errant spark cast from a flame that leaps forward and somehow catches.

I know Annie was unmarried, and already well into her 50s when I was born. She resided in the other side of our house, a symmetrical three-floor duplex built by my ancestors during a time in history when nobody thought the ways of the world would ever change and family members would always just live together in the same house.

Annie was a Home Economics teacher at the local junior high, spoke in a voice that sounded like her tongue was caught in a fan and would tear down hell on me should she find occasion. Whenever I tried to help out with any chore as simple as putting a book back into a shelf, I'd be reprimanded, "That doesn't go there!" or "Why can't you just figure it out?" As a result, I thought I was a frustrating nuisance, of little use to anyone. I was probably about only 5 or 6 years old. She moved me in profound and scarring, hurtful ways when I was so young, and made me feel incompetent, a word I didn't know at the time. Glimpsing upon that grand old mirror of reflection, I don't think she liked men very much at all: I guess I was just a male, such as any other and as the male sex never appeared to be of much use to her, why should I be any different or she be of any fault for that matter? Nonetheless, to me as a child, she was a bitch of the first water.

As memory fits over years such as sheets that I could never properly tuck into the beds on her side of the house, this is what is also true: Annie crafted cookies from scratch, baked buttery pork chops with crushed Ritz crackers, sauteed kielbasa with an orange sauce from Hickory Farms, made grilled cheeses in a new-fangled sandwich press, slathered molasses pantry cookies with cream cheese and in my hometown of Dover, NH, introduced me to the simple wonder of bagels and scones.

Annie also made scrambled eggs, the best scrambled eggs, as I stood on tip-toe to the stove top, to observe. She cracked the eggs into a bowl with abandon, adding butter, salt, pepper and milk, rapidly mixing the ingredients all together with a fork before they were poured into a bubbling, buttered skillet and formed into large curds that created scrambled eggs. Pepperidge Farm white bread was already in the toaster, and popped out, ready to be buttered, just when the eggs were done, to make the perfect sandwich.

Over 30 years later the memories filter through me. I still question what on earth was I to make of her aching, finicky and elegant net, just out of reach, cast over my childhood, stretching only as far as the state lines, perhaps as far as Boston. But as I sat in my apartment on a recent Chelsea morning in New York eating my eggy sandwich on perfectly toasted Pepperidge Farm bread, with way too much butter and thoughts of other mornings, brightly lit, sitting in a childhood nook for breakfast, I couldn't help but feel Annie around me, perhaps even looking down, although I didn't picture her smiling. Despite whatever she tried or didn't try to do, she taught me how to make scrambled eggs.

P.S. Somewhere back in the 90's Annie gave me her Reader's Digest Secrets of Better Cooking cookbook, and I'm still not sure why, other than she had heard I had finally learned to cook, maybe. I absolutely cherish it. Her personal recipe (and God knows our family's favorite) for Disappearing Marshmallow Brownies is tucked in the pages, handwritten in spidery script on lined yellow paper. I don't think anybody really knows where it came from. I've made the brownies many times, only once or twice really successfully, the way she used to make them. But before she died a few years ago, she tried a batch that I had made. She chewed carefully and from her chair, glassy-eyed and unfocused, said she'd give it a "B".

That was one of the last things she said to me, if not the final thing, apart from goodbye, that day, if ever.

Kentucky Derby Bon Voyage Party

For the first time in the 15 years that I've been throwing Kentucky Derby parties, I actually had to make more simple syrup for the Mint Juleps! Probably because I made Trudy's Mint Juleps for the first time too, which our guests found irresistable. This Derby party was also special since Baby and I are going overseas for a few weeks and we wanted to be with some of our nearest and dearest before we take off. Hence, a Kentucky Derby Bon Voyage Party!

When folks arrive, Benedictine sandwiches are always on the table, the recipe pulled from an issue of my beloved Saveur magazine collection. To whit, cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, with a touch of Tabasco, lightly spread on Pepperidge Farm Very Thin White Bread. We also juiced a parsley bunch and whisked it in for some color and flavor, instead of the curious use of green food coloring.

Martha Stewart's Menus for Entertaining has always been epic in my mind, instrumental in planning my Derby parties--stuck in between its pages, my sentimental copy has grocery receipts, shopping lists and pressed lilacs from years past. From the "Fried Green Tomatoes" Brunch, the simple to make Buttermilk Biscuits with Red Tomatoes are always a crowd pleaser. I don't actually make the biscuits, as Ms. Stewart suggests, I just buy Pillsbury Grands; I don't think biscuits get much better than that. We purchased Homestyle, Southern Style and Buttermilk for a decent variety, sliced the tomatoes somewhat thinly, with a widge of salt and pepper and served in a colander lined with a cunning cloth napkin.

We introduced a vat of the legendary Chasen's Chili to the Derby party, which I think is probably the best chili I've ever had! We ordered Gebhardt's chili powder online (for cheap!), but also threw in some of Penzey's Chili 9000 powder, which features cocoa powder in its list of ingredients. We served with grated cheddar cheese, sour cream, scallions and Frito's, like a Frito Pie. Mama yo quiero! How do you say delectable, divine?

Now to the race itself, the most exciting two minutes in sports, nobody at our party had bet on the winner, Mine That Bird, but since my pal and I had both bet on Pioneer of the Nile, who came in second, we split the pot. Another first! I had never won a dime ever at any Derby party!

Apres le competition, we served Ms. Stewart's Southern Shrimp with Grits, this time incorporating tender, flavorful rock shrimp as opposed to regular shrimp which is a pain in the neck to devein. We broke out and served it on individual spoons, with a dollop of grits, covered over by a fine dice of red, orange and yellow peppers with the shrimp and a topping of bacon and parsley. Just between us, anything presented on an individual spoon is sure to elicit innumerable 'oohs' and 'ahs.'

I think we all had a wonderful time and thankfully, the weather was with us once again for the Derby as we sipped our minty juleps with the breath of spring in the air, having pushed the windows wide open, even as we lingered into the evening.

Soundtrack: Sippie Wallace, Sippie; Atlantic Blues, Vocalists; The Sergio Mendes and Brasil '66 Foursider; Antonio Carlos Jobim, The Man From Ipanema, Disc 2; XTC, Skylarking; and later, The B-52's Anthology, Nude on the Moon.