Struck Dumb By the Damson Plum

October 15, 2013 - Posted in Bakery, Baking, Cake, Claire Ptak, Cobbler, Dessert, Fruit Desserts, LauraRaposa, London Bakeries, Plums, Pudding, Uncategorized

I’m a fan of East London baker Claire Ptak, the owner of Violet, a bakery in Hackney. I’ve never eaten any of her pastry; never made a pilgrimage to her shop. But I do follow her on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. So, you know, it’s like we’re besties.

A few posts ago, Claire – a native Californian who honed her pastry prowess at Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse – snapped a photo of a bubbling pot of damson plums destined for canning jars. The color was stunning. Another post showed a pile of pretty damsons and some caster sugar ready for boiling in Claire’s copper confiture pan. (I covet that pot.)

I was intrigued by the damson plum since it appeared to be a smaller version of Italian plum, one of my mother’s favorite farm stand scores during the season. After some Google-ing, I found the little sour plums are native to Great Britain, however some trees did find their way over to the American colonies before 1776.

Damson Plums

I thought perhaps damsons were known here on the New England coast as beach plums, but I was wrong. Different prunus, according to my research. But I bet if you found yourself with a bumper crop of beach plums, they would be a fine substitute in the recipe below. Just cut back on the sugar.

Apparently, damsons didn’t take off here in the colonies — probably because of the fruit’s sour taste. So imagine my surprise when I spied 2-quart boxes of them lined up the other day at Honey Pot Hill Orchards in Stowe!

While battling for position in the store’s check-out line during an insanely busy Saturday I managed to grab a box. I didn’t have a plan for the $11.50 container of plums — only some yummy Instagram photos from Claire Ptak.

The plums sat on my counter for a week until I found a recipe worthy of the expensive fruit. There are plenty of damson jam recipes out there, but they didn’t interest me. I finally scoped out Damson, Hazelnut and Brown Sugar Pudding in the Telegraph, and thought (in my British inner voice), “I can muck around with that.”

Now, for those of you non-Anglophiles, the people across the Pond call dessert “pudding.” And yes, you can have pudding for pudding. However, this recipe isn’t a pudding in any language. It’s a cobbler – a sweet dough dropped atop fruit and then baked.

First up, 3-1/2 pounds of plums needed to be pitted. Luckily, I own a “stoner” – a kitchen gadget that I use to de-pit cherries, olives and apricots. It took me about 20 minutes and made a juicy mess.

The Stoner at work.

The Telegraph recipe doesn’t call for “stoning” the fruit before cooking it, but I thought it was easier – and much safer — than picking pits out of scalding magenta-colored fruit goo in a sieve. I also didn’t want anyone to break a tooth.

The recipe also calls for 2 pounds of damsons plus 10-1/2 ounces of regular purple plums. I just used all the damsons.

Also required: 3 large dessert apples, peeled and sliced. I had 2 large Cortlands and lots of smallish Mutsus from Honey Pot Hill, so I eyeballed it. You can never have too many apples, right?

Another thing: I didn’t cook the apples separately as the recipe instructed. I put them right in the pot with the bubbling damsons.

Apples and plums cook

However, I gladly followed the instructions for the “sponge” — actually a vanilla-scented, cake-like topping with hazelnuts that proved to be delicious.

Slices of advice:

• You might have much more fruit juice than you need for the cobbler. I transferred the fruit from the saucepan to my porcelain baker with a slotted spoon. The juice left behind (about a cup) was strained into a glass measure and stored in the fridge. I plan to add it to sparkling water or seltzer. Nothing goes to waste.

• Absolutely, positively use self-rising flour. I use King Arthur Flour’s brand.

• Use a good size pan. I used an 8-inch white porcelain baker. It was too small, but a 9×13 pan would have been too big.

• The top of the cobbler burns easily, so cover it half-way through with foil. Make sure the middle is cooked before taking it out of the oven. If it has cooked for 50 minutes and it’s still wobbly in the middle, cook it longer. The foil on top keeps it from baking properly.

• Serve it with ice cream. I served my Damson Plum and Apple Cobbler with a scoop of Toscanini’s French Vanilla and it was jolly good!

Damson Plum and Apple Cobbler

DAMSON PLUM AND APPLE COBBLER

For the fruit
3-1/2 lb. damson plums, pitted
10-1/2 oz. light brown sugar
3 or 4 pie apples, peeled, cored and sliced (Golden Delicious, Cortlands)

For the cake
7 oz. butter, softened
7 oz. light brown sugar
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1 tsp. vanilla extract
7 oz. self-raising flour, sifted
5-½ oz. hazelnuts, roughly chopped, but not too fine
chopped toasted hazelnuts and 10-X sugar, to serve or top with a scoop of the best vanilla ice cream you can find

Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Put the damsons in a pan with about 4 T. water. Heat until they start to exude their own juices then gently cook until the fruit is soft, stirring from time to time. Add half the brown sugar.

Bring the mixture up to the boil then turn down the heat and simmer until the plums are tender. Add the apples and the rest of the brown sugar.

The mixture will thicken as it reduces. Taste to see whether you need any more brown sugar since damsons are more sour than sweet. Cook the apples until they are just tender. Leave all the fruit to cool completely. In the meantime, make the “sponge” or cake layer.

Beat the butter and sugar together until fluffy. Gradually add the eggs, beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla. With a large rubber spatula, fold in the flour. Stir in the chopped hazelnuts.

Put the plum and damson mix into a 9-inch square dish or pan. Spoon the mixture over the fruit, gently spreading it out. Bake for 50 minutes.

The top will start to get dark about halfway through, so cover with some foil. However, the cake part may take longer to bake with the foil on top. Insert a skewer deep into in the middle of the cobbler at the 50-minute mark. The sponge part is set when the skewer comes out clean of batter. You may need more time.

Leave to cool for about 15 minutes – the fruit is very hot – then scatter with the extra hazelnuts and sift on a dusting of 10-x sugar or top with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Serves 8 to 10.

This recipe was adapted from “Damson, Hazelnut and Brown Sugar Pudding,” The Telegraph, Sept. 20, 2011.

A ‘Victory’ for Kale?

October 5, 2013 - Posted in celebrity foodies, cookbooks, Cooking, Healthy Cooking, LauraRaposa, poultry, Side Dishes, snark, The Foodsmith, turkey, Vegetables, WholeFoods

A long time ago and not so far away, Steven and I supped at the home of our friends who are mad gardeners. The wife, an excellent cook as well, served us boneless turkey breast stuffed with kale and mushrooms. It was delicious, and I never forgot it.

An oldie but goodie!

So when the kale craze hit a couple of years ago, I remembered Lisa divulged the recipe was from “The Victory Garden Cookbook” by Marian Morash. I figured I would venture to make it when I was feeling virtuous in the kitchen. You know, someday.

This week, I finally got my hands on a 3-pound boneless breast of turkey ($6.99 per pound) at Whole Paycheck Foods. Now, I’m sure the upscale organic food retailer has them all the time, but I felt like I really scored that day.

My 3-pound boneless turkey breast from Whole Foods

“The Victory Garden Cookbook,” first published in 1982, can be purchased on Amazon.com, but it isn’t available for download on iTunes, iBooks or whatever iName Apple has slapped on its ebook store. Gah!

The only thing left to do, or so I thought, was to go old school. I went to the library.

My own town library “didn’t own the book anymore,” I was told. But if I wanted to drive to Hingham, the helpful librarian said, it is on the shelf there –641.65 MOR. It’s comforting to know the Dewey Decimal System, circa 1876, is still kickin’, isn’t it?

“I got this book as a wedding present,” the Hingham Iibrarian told me as she scanned the label on the book then inserted an old fashion “Date Due” card in a pocket inside. “What are you making?”

I told her, there was some ooohing and aaaahing, and then off I went, book under my arm, to shop for ingredients at the Fruit Center Marketplace and then hit the kitchen…

Marian’s recipe, which I discovered about 5 minutes ago was on Google Books (?) , feeds 6 to 8 people. It also calls for a 4- to 6-pound boneless turkey breast that is much larger than the one I bought – even with some therapeutic pounding with a mallet.

I tweaked the measurements for the stuffing for my half breast but I still had lots left over. (I added more eggs, some shredded low fat cheese and herbs, topped it with Panko breadcrumbs and I called it a casserole. Viola!)

In this recipe, there’s a lot of sautéing, chopping and, my personal favorite, squeezing the water out of the kale even after a five speedy turns in the salad spinner.

Speaking of kale, I didn’t use the super curly variety. I grabbed Lacinato Kale – or Tuscan Kale — only because it looked better than the curly stuff that is ever-so-popular amongst the Hingham yummy mummys for their kale chips.

“Ooooh, they’re soooo much better than potato chips,” I’ve been told.

To borrow a line from Will Ferrell in that classic Christimas flick, “Elf”: “You sit on a throne of lies.”

I want to heave blame on that skinny ass celebrity foodie Gwyneth “Goop” Paltrow for this kale chip craziness, but a friend told me that hatin’ on Gwynnie “is like giving her electrolytes.” So why bother?

But, I digress…

The recipe didn’t call for it, but I added ½ cup of carrots, cut in a small dice, to the stuffing since it desperately needed some color.

Now, the rolling of the turkey breast with the stuffing was not an easy task. However, if I had a whole butterflied breast, like Marian, it would have been much, much easier.

I managed the stuff , tuck ‘n’ roll but had to use wooden skewers to keep the breast somewhat closed. I tied it with kitchen twine, tossed the skewers, and then added four strips of applewood-smoked bacon to the top of the turkey.

According to the recipe, the rolled breast is then wrapped in buttered foil and baked at 425 degrees for 40 minutes. After that, the foil comes off and it bakes at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. However, after a quick poke with the thermometer, my turkey breast needed to cook for an additional 45 minutes.

The turkey was tasty – just as I remembered. And there were plenty of pan juices to keep the meat moist. The next time, I will omit the proscuitto in the stuffing and add bits of cooked bacon instead. I think it would boost the flavor inside the roll. Or perhaps skip the bacon and add chopped garlic to the stuffing.

Hey, the recipe is over 30 years old, it’s time for a good tweak.

I served the kale-stuffed breast with garlicy mashed potatoes and a bit of my extra stuffing kale “casserole” on the side.

‘Victory’ dish? It tasted much better than it looks!

Another dinner Victory!

Feast Your Eyes — and Appetite — on “Haute Cuisine”

September 25, 2013 - Posted in Cooking, Farms, Food Films, French Food, Haute Cuisine, Locavore, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized, Vegetables

The French film “Haute Cuisine” isn’t about haute cuisine at all. In fact, just the opposite.

Catherine Flot stars as Hortense Laborie in 'Haute Cuisine.' (TWC Photo)

Catherine Frot stars as Hortense Laborie in ‘Haute Cuisine.’ (TWC Photo)

When I mentioned that little observation to the film’s real-life subject Danièle Mazet-Delpeuch — the farmhouse cook plucked from the Dordogne to serve as French President Francois Mitterrand’s personal chef — she roared with laughter.

“It is certainly not,” she said in her high-spirited French accent at the start of our phone conversation. “I had no choice in the title, but I love the film very much.”

“Haute Cuisine,” a darling of this year’s Cannes Film Festival gobbled up by the Weinstein Company, was originally called, “Les Saveurs du Palais,” a much more clever name since “palais” means both “palace” and “palate” in French.

As studios in the States tend to do, the name was changed for an American palate — although this time something got lost in translation!

Danièle’s story, as told through the actress Catherine Frot as Hortense Laborie, chronicles the cook’s close relationship with Mitterrand who, in his first term, had his fill of fussy food churned out by the Palais de l’Élysée’s Main Kitchen.

For his private meals in his second term, Mr. President, the Republic’s top gastronome (played by Jean d’Ormesson), wanted a woman from the country who could prepare dishes like his grand-mére, not Escoffier.

Naturally, Mitterrand’s love of his cook’s bourgeois fare which showcased the best produce, poultry, meat, fish and dairy products France had to offer instead of the food service staples in the Main Kitchen’s store room, left a bad taste in many mouths at the Palais.

The president’s personal cook checks out the local produce. (TWC Photo)

Who knew the French president was such a locavore?

“Oh, please don’t call him that,” said Madame whose former boss died in 1996. “He would hate that name.”

Danièle said Mitterrand would have found humor in the locavore movement and the romanticism of buying the freshest ingredients off the farm or fishing boat. His grand-mère didn’t know any other way!

“I am always amused by the reinvention of the simple life,” she said. “We eat what is around us. Viola! Vegetables,” she laughed. “Living on a farm is a different lifestyle. It takes us more time to do things certainly.

“But I can see people who live in the city dreaming about green things,” Danièle sighed. “I know I have been here for a week in this very lovely hotel in New York and I’m starting to dream about trees and fields and animals. I need to breathe!”

Now, back to the film… In “Haute Cuisine,” which opens Friday at the Kendall Square Cinema, the cook and her boss struck up a friendship over food. She listened as the president waxed poetically about old cookbooks while his aides paced outside his door.

Hortense and the Boss. The only thing missing in this photo is the truffles! (TWC Photo)

And during one late-night kitchen visit, Hortense shaved fresh truffles on truffle-buttered toast for him — just like Grand-Mère would have done.

But while she and her assistant, Nicolas, (Arthur Dupont) won accolades from the prez for their salmon stuffed in cabbage and fried acacia blossoms, Hortense enraged the toqued titans of the Main Kitchen as well as the palace’s number crunchers and Mitterrand’s doctors who worried about the boss’ diet. (After his death, it was revealed that the president had suffered from prostate cancer during his two terms in office.)

At the end of two years, singed by being forced to lower her standards, Hortense – and in real-life, Danièle — hung up her black apron. She fled 55 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré on a broken foot as cheers went up in the all-male Main Kitchen. (Hortense called them ‘machos.’ They had other names for her.)

“We’ve won. We’ve taken over the private kitchen,” a jubilant sous chef told his crew.

Ding, Dong, the Dordogne Witch is Dead?

Hortense, feeling unappreciated and disrespected, returned home to her 700-year-old farm in Pèrigord to hunt truffles under the oaks with her dog and fatten up geese for foie gras.

Some years later, she signed up for a one-year stint cooking for scientists at a base in Antartica. And it is there — at the top of the world making do with frozen foods and greenhouse produce — where she finds gratitude, respect and even love from her 60 charges.

According to Danièle, she wasn’t an easy sell to the women in charge of finding a cook for the base on Antarctica.

“She wanted someone younger and someone with a degree in cooking, not in literature,” she said. “But I told her I had a good recommendation as I was the cook for the French president. And that was it. She hired me.”

However, unlike the food served by Danièle on the screen, her cooking was basic; what she called “cafeteria style.”

“The men who were there for six months time didn’t want sophisticated family cooking,” she said. “It reminded them too much of home. But because of where we were, I had to bake bread every day, we kept hens for eggs. So the food was good.”

But not “haute.”

“Haute Cuisine,” directed by Christian Vincent; written by Étiene Comar and Christian Vincent; starring Catherine Frot, Jean d’Ormesson, Hippolyte Girardot and Arthur Dupont.

Running Time: 95 minutes

MPAA Rating: PG-13

Opening Date: Sept. 27, Kendall Square Cinema, Cambridge

A RECIPE FROM DANIÈLE MAZET-DELPEUCH’S BOOK “CARNETS DE CUISINE DU PÉRIGORD À L’ELYSÉE”

JULIA POTATOES

2 -¼ lb. potatoes, peeled

5 T. goose or duck fat

6 cloves of garlic, chopped

Pinch of sea salt

Pinch of ground peppercorns

Parsley, for garnish

Slice potatoes as thinly as possible, no more than ¼-inch thick.

Melt 2 T. of goose or duck fat in a large saucepan, adding potatoes and a pinch of salt once hot. Allow to simmer for 30 minutes, turning occasionally with a spatula.

Add in an additional 1 tbsp of goose or duck fat, along with chopped garlic, and cover for 2-3 minutes or until browned.

Serve potatoes sprinkled lightly with salt, ground pepper, and parsley.

Serves 6-8.

“Excuse Me, Officer, But Your Pasta is Overcooked.”

September 23, 2013 - Posted in Beef, Chefs, Chicken, Contests, Cooking, Grilling, LauraRaposa, Let's Talk About Food, Pasta, Puritan & Company, Restaurants, Seafood, Shrimp, Steve "Nookie" Postal, Uncategorized, Vegetables, WholeFoods, Will Gilson

I’ve judged dozens of contests in my day. Whether it was choosing readers’ best Christmas cookies, the hunkiest bachelor or crowning that year’s “Boston Pride Idol,” it was always serious business for me.

Of course, I also got a chance to be on the other side of the judges’ table as a contestant on the second season of “MasterChef.” It was humiliating and humbling. And the experience proved yet again that this girl can hold a grudge like the Godfather.

Yesterday, I was back at the judges’ table with three fellow food bloggers – Jacki Morisi from Just Add Cheese, Erica LoRe from In And Around Town and Hayley Fager from the Chefs Collaborative – to choose the best dish prepared by a Cambridge cop. Brave women, no?

The cop with the cooking chops will compete in a first responders’ culinary showdown during the Let’s Talk About Food-fest on Oct. 5 in Copley Square. Check here for the event schedule.

Nerves – and knives — were on edge in the kitchens at the Boston Center for Adult Education. However, the five men did have some back-up from chefs Will Gilson of Puritan & Company in Inman Square and Steve “Nookie” Postal, who is in the throes of opening Commonwealth and Steinbones in Cambridge this year. But from what I could see, the five Men in Blue each had command of their situation.

The judges’ score sheet.

The judges were charged with scoring each dish on a 1 to 10 scale, giving points for taste, execution and presentation. Thankfully, the four whose dish wasn’t going to make it, wasn’t going to be subjected to public ridicule. The dish with the most points wins. Period.

First up was a chicken piccata dish that won points for lemony taste, but scored low in execution. The gemelli pasta was underdone and the plating was poor.

Then came a bowl of seafood fra diablo which was tasty, but lacked fire power. The fish, especially the calamari, were overdone. However, the piece of garlic bread was restaurant quality and, well, yummy.

Pasta fra diablo

By the way, can I tell you how unnerving it is to have people watch you eat? I need a bib to eat a bowl of Cheerios, so twirling tough linguini from a plastic bowl — and not plop sauce on my shirt — while a small crowd has its eyes on you, was an Olympic feat.

A dish of teryaki-orange steak tips with grilled veggies was the third entree we tried. The meat was tough and cold, but he won

Glazed Salmon

an appeal for his grilled summer squash and asparagus. Plating, again, not good. But I noticed that Jacki’s entree’s plating had more panache than mine. But I had to judge my own plate…

Coming in at No. 4 was perfectly grilled, orange-glazed salmon with wild rice and well-cooked, but snappy, broccolini. Not only was the dish the best of the bunch thus far, the plate – albeit a plastic one from CVS – looked restaurant quality.

Lastly – and I felt for this guy – there was a trio of seafood – scallops, shrimp and haddock in a butter-sherry sauce – served in a gratin dish. On the side were grilled asparagus and basmati rice. While this dish was tasty and had a good presentation, the seafood was overcooked and tough. But that sometimes happens when you’re the last contestant.

I wasn’t the last contestant, but I was made to wait nearly 45 minutes with my chicken giambotta before my public slapdown on MC2. The Botoxed Brit told me I had overcooked the chicken thighs even though I had undercooked them, knowing I was going to have to wait for my audience with the bully brigade.

So, if you can help it, refuse to be the last contestant in a cooking contest. In addition to the fear of serving overcooked food, you need to gather intel by checking out the competition and upping the ante. A little advice from me to you.

Da winnah! Cambridge cop Matt Brown’s Glazed Salmon bested dishes prepared by his fellow men in blue.

Anyway, the clear winner of the Let’s Talk About Food cop culinary contest was Officer Matt Brown’s glazed salmon, a recipe he claimed he read in a magazine at the gym before coming to the event. Call me suspect. Through a little detective work of my own, I discovered Officer Brown had Whole Food shopping bags full of ingredients awaiting him in the BCAE kitchen when he arrived on Sunday. Hmmm…

Another word to the wise — if you judge a contest, do not hang around after the job is done. Flee the situation. Should you stay, prepare yourself for an onslaught of angry family members and friends who feel their contestant wuz robbed. It can get ugly. Trust me. I know this.

After Officer Brown was crowned Kitchen King of the Cambridge Police, I congratulated him, snapped his photo, thanked the organizers and beat feet to the parking lot across the street. I only hope those four other cops don’t hold grudges…

Chef Nookie, left, and Will Gilson, second from right, pose with the Cambridge police super and some of his cooks.

WANTED: Good Rice Pudding Karma

September 12, 2013 - Posted in Catering Adventures, Cooking, Dessert, eggs, LauraRaposa, Pudding, Uncategorized

Faced with a 3-pound bag of short-grained rice, a few half gallons of milk, 2 quarts of heavy cream and lots of leftover candied citrus peel, I got back in the rice pudding game.

I admit I was a little stove-shy after last week’s rice dessert debacle (see previous blog post). But I couldn’t possibly use all the milk I bought for the Dessert Buffet for 400 by its expiration date – tomorrow.

Oh, shut up, Emeril. (Food Network Photo)

First things first. I got rid of Emeril Lagasse’s rice pudding recipe that I used last week. It was delicious, but it had bad juju. So, I hunted around on epicurious.com and came up with a recipe I could tweak.

The differences were slight – I used a split vanilla bean instead of extract; substituted in some heavy cream; and added chopped up candied lemon and orange peel I had made to top my Bavarian Cream-filled tarts.

We had a small dish of my Good Karma Rice Pudding for dessert tonight. As Larry David would say, it was “pret-tay, pre-tay good.” OK, maybe a little better than that because I doubt any of the pudding will make it to the compost pile this time!

Good Karma Rice Pudding!

GOOD KARMA RICE PUDDING

3 c. whole milk

½ c. short-grain rice

¼ t. salt

1 vanilla bean, split horizontally

4 to 6 pieces of lemon or orange peel, chopped

½ c. milk or heavy cream

3 eggs

½ c. sugar

¼ t. cinnamon

¼ c. raisins, optional

Bring milk, rice, salt, vanilla bean and chopped citrus peel to simmer in a heavy medium to large saucepan. Reduce heat to low. Cover and gently simmer for an hour (or less!) until rice is very tender and liquid is almost absorbed. Stir occasionally.

Remove vanilla bean, scraping the inside of the bean into the pan.

In a medium bowl, whisk milk or cream, eggs, sugar and cinnamon. Stir in raisins if using.

Using a heatproof measuring cup, carefully and slowly add 1 cup of the hot milk/rice mixture to the milk/egg mixture, whisking constantly. (This is called ‘tempering the eggs.’)

Pour the contents of the bowl into the saucepan, whisking or stirring as you do.

Stir over low heat over low heat until mixture thickens. About 6 to 10 minutes. Pour into a 9×13 glass dish and cool to room temperature. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. To serve, you can sift a little more cinnamon over the dish or top with whipped cream.

Serves 6.

© The Foodsmith, www.lauraraposa.com, 2013

Baking…For Reals

September 10, 2013 - Posted in Bakery, Baking, Butterscotch, Catering Adventures, Dad, Dessert, Flour Bakery + Cafe, LauraRaposa, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized

Who leaves a three-month bakery apprenticeship and just days later feels confident enough to bake for 400 people? Of course, that would be me.

Full disclosure: I never baked anything at Flour Bakery + Cafe during my tenure. They don’t let the interns near the ovens except for toasting nuts, which I did many times for trail mix and biscotti.

However, I observed what was going on around me, asked tons of questions and took copious notes. Hey, I was a reporter for 30 years. It’s what we do.

To begin, I typed up a daily production list for this project just like the F2 pastry chefs Sarah Powers and Sarah Murphy did each night. Mine, of course, was miniscule compared to their list, a baking balancing act for four bakery/cafes and Myers + Chang!

So armed with my years of baking instruction, my apprenticeship notebook, my family’s bakers’ supply warehouse at my disposal, 12 hours of commercial kitchen time and a crew of two, I was ready to hit the kitchen.

“This is NOTHING,” I told myself, borrowing a line repeated by Dustin Hoffman’s character in “Wag the Dog,” one of my favorite political spoofs.

The event was the Westport Historical Society’s first big fund-raiser that celebrated the town’s working waterfront history. As a board member, I volunteered to provide the dessert buffet. I also co-chaired the event. So, the pressure was on…

Lees Market catered the savory eats. Owner Al Lees, who also sits on the WHS board, allowed me to use his bakery for three nights between 5 p.m. and 9 p.m. The first night, my cousin Sharon and I couldn’t get the bakery’s high-tech, six-pan BKI oven to work.

Al Lees mans the slider grill at the event on Westport Point. (Photo by Cindy Lees)

I had some instruction from the head baker, Sue Igler, earlier in the day. But come to find out, we weren’t properly slamming the door! (We swore BKI was some persnickety German import. Later, I found out the damn thing was made in South Carolina.)

So we baked off two large boxes of cookies in the dual wall ovens that ate up most of our kitchen time. Oh, and the vat of Portuguese rice pudding I made? It never made it to the party. Inexperienced me incorrectly chilled it in a white plastic frosting bucket instead of a hotel pan and it was hard when I went to scoop it out. I hope Al’s composter enjoyed it.

The next night, I made two full sheet pans of brownies – one with cherries, the other with nuts. Mom and Sharon filled tiny tarts with Bavarian cream and topped them with candied citrus peel. Raspberry tarts were garnished with fruit. We also baked lots of macaroons. They were drizzled with chocolate when cooled.

On Friday, I dipped 40 small Vanilla Bean Caramel Apples (the recipe is in ‘Baked: New Frontiers in Baking’ by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito). I also snagged a couple of Flour’s scaled-up recipes while I was there.

The Raspberry Shortbread Squares never got made but I did whip up a vat of silky smooth Butterscotch Pudding. The nostalgic dessert was topped with toffee pieces and served in tiny plastic cups with tiny spoons.

My fellow Flour intern, Abby Rahn, who caters parties at Harvard, gave me the idea. She said people go crazy for food in little cups with little spoons.

“You could serve them Jell-O Instant Pudding and they’d love it,” she told me while we scoped out the shelves in Flour’s walk-in. “They think it’s so…cute.”

However, it wasn’t so cute for the cook who splashed scalding hot milk and cream onto her left thumb while pouring the custard into a chinois. It’s a second-degree burn, but as I learned years ago at the Culinary Institute bootcamp: treat it, put on a glove, and finish the job. So I did. Ouch.

At the party, my father, the consummate salesman, talked up the Lilliputian pud so much, even the detail cops came over to try it!

Speaking of Dad, the man knew we were facing a baking deadline, so he came into the bakery on Friday night to shape mini apple turnovers. In 50-plus years my father has sold hundreds of thousands of boxes of Pennant 5×5 Puff Dough so who better to help out?

He and I cut the large puff pastry squares into smaller triangles, filled them with my fresh apple concoction (my brother, John, who runs the company’s fresh apple business, diced the Ida Reds the day before), got them shaped and finished off with King Arthur’s Sparkling Sugar.

‘The Stragglers’: Our final batch of Mini Fresh Apple Turnovers. They looked so much better on a pedestal plate!

The guests gobbled them up. The only thing that would have made them better was if the tiny turnovers were served warm. Right out of the oven, they were heavenly — if I do say so myself.

On Saturday, the day of the event, my mother and I set up the dessert and coffee tables with white cloths overlaid with fish net that I found in a New Bedford antiques store. (I only tell you this because we were all working so hard to keep the sweets buffet filled, no one snapped photos!)

I used antique block and tackles, old enamel kitchenware, flowers in mason jars and quahog shells to decorate the tables under the tent at the historic Paquachuck Inn. I stacked old copies of “Moby Dick,” “Captains Courageous” and other maritime adventure books to raise my large white platters off the table.

The “port of entry” to the party at the Paquachuck in the early afternoon.

And to present the sugar, little creamers and stirrers on the coffee table, I used an old fishing tackle box. Coffee cups were in an antique wooden box.

Of course, no catering gig is complete without a little drama. In this case, we had Westport Point’s Great Coffee Explosion of 2013.

While my hubby, Steve, Dad and I checked in people for the Captain’s Party at 6 p.m., my family took charge of the coffee pots. Apparently, someone poured too much water in the 100-cup pot and coffee sludge burst out of the pot during the perk cycle!

There was a quick change in tablecloth and Sharon’s hubby, also named Steve, filtered the coffee while dispensing it into a 3-litre help-yourself thermos. It was so cold on the Point that night, no one complained about the strong coffee. There wasn’t a drop left!

The entire evening was a success. We raised lots of money as well as the Historical Society’s profile in town. I was flattered when guests asked where my bakery was located.

Location, location, location!

I learned many lessons last week, but No. 1 was baking for 400 isn’t “NOTHING.” I awoke at 4 a.m. anxious about chocolate frosting, for cryin’ out loud.

Also, you can’t pull off a catering gig of this magnitude alone. I was grateful for my team of family members who assisted me every step of the way. You cannot buy help like that. I’ll certainly keep that in mind going forward.

Damn, I miss Keith Brooks…

Malorie and Johanna

As for the baking gang at Flour – Joanne, the Sarahs, Keith Brooks, Rachel Gibeley, Johanna Hamilton, Malorie Barnes, Jon Singer, Allyson Schanck, Gayoung Kim, Tamara Marchel, Jack Cen, Erin Barry, Robin-Amara Heard and Chef Jeff – thanks for giving me the confidence to go out and do it. I will never do anything half-baked because of you!

(Note: I expect some photos of the WHS event to arrive in the next day or two. Please check back!)

“Pardon Me, Sir, Where I Can Get a Sherpa to Schlep My Picnic Basket?”

August 31, 2013 - Posted in Cooking, Picnics, Salads, Seafood, Soup, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized, Vegetables

I love going to Tanglewood. It really doesn’t matter who is playing at the western Mass. summer home of the Boston Symphony — although I have a thang for violinist Joshua Bell. It’s all about the picnic on the lawn.

A picnic on the lawn at Tanglewood. (Photo courtesy of BSO)

Now, this isn’t tailgating. No one throws open the trunk of the Prius, pitches a canopy tent and throws ribs on a Weber. It’s all very civilized. Yes, there are coolers, but they’re likely filled with artisan cheese and pricey craft brews instead of Cracker Barrel and Bud Light. Come to think of it, I’ve never actually seen a NPR beer koozie at Tanglewood but I know they exist…

Some Lenox lawn regulars go all out for their concert repast — candelabras, linen napkins and flower arrangements. But, really, who can afford the sherpa to schlep it all through the gates? Maybe Yo-Yo Ma, but he’s eating backstage.

After a three year absence, my husband and I finally returned to the lawn in front of the Koussevitzky Shed the other night for a taping of “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me,” the über popular NPR news quiz show. Host Peter Sagal‘s no Joshua Bell, but I do so long to win Carl Kasell‘s voice on my “home answering machine”…

We arrived at Tanglewood two hours before the taping began. I knew it was going to be a successful evening after we were given free lawn tickets by two generous souls and we scored a primo picnic spot with an unrestricted view of the high-def screen.

During the three-hour trip to Lenox, I practiced the stink-eye I’d give to fellow lawn-dwellers with children and large groups with blankets and beach chairs. That proved to be time well spent — except for that Charlie Pierce groupie who slipped in behind us when it got dark. Grr.

My Whole Foods messenger-style cooler bag was like the proverbial clown car.

Spicy Gazpacho with French bread ‘croutons’

Wedged in between freezer blocks, I had two small thermoses of the CIA‘s spicy gazpacho, containers of French bread toasts and dressed, sliced cherry tomatoes as well as a log of Vermont Creamery goat cheese.

The main event was a classic lobster salad served on Seven Stars Bakery‘s Italian durum rolls — available at the Fruit Center Marketplace — and sliced pickling cukes that arrived in our CSA basket that very morning.

The Gladware of watermelon cubes I packed went untouched. But later on for dessert, we had Chunky Lola cookies from Flour with cups of not-so-steaming-hot tea. Hey, it gets damp out there on the lawn listening to the cackle of Charlie’s superfan. And besides that, we’re nerds.

Classic Lobster Salad on Seven Stars' Itaian Durum Rolls

Classic Lobster Salad on Seven Stars’ Italian Durum Rolls

We eschewed the candelabras and vases for a waaaay-too-tiny table draped with a French linen napkin as well as a smallish bread board which proved invaluable. (I’d really be a horrible camper. I need counters.) The wooden board, rolls, a sheathed bread knife, paper goods, plastic cutlery, a small trash bag, bug repellant, a roll of paper towel and a thermos of tea were toted in a large canvas bag.

Wait, wait, did I mention I needed Advil for my aching shoulders and back the next morning?

Of course, we could have just stopped at Guido’s Fresh Marketplace to grab pre-made sandwiches or a container of hummus and pita chips to snack on before the show. But, as we all know, readers, that’s no fun at all…

Happy Birthday, Julia Child!

August 15, 2013 - Posted in Cooking, Food Traditions, Julia Child, LauraRaposa, The Foodsmith

I cannot imagine what the late, great Julia Child would think of all the science projects that pass for fine dining these days.

My guess is she’d be horrified.

I envision Julia — or Meryl Streep as the cinematic French Chef — bellowing as a hipster waiter placed a plate of foam, gel and smoking liquid nitrogen in front of her: “Yes, it’s pretty, but where is the foooooooood?”

God bless you, Julia. You are missed.

File Under: Not So Bon Appetit

Not Shedding a Tear for Shuttered Anthony’s Pier 4

July 31, 2013 - Posted in LauraRaposa, Restaurants, Seafood, Uncategorized

Call me contra mundum, but I couldn’t bear to drive in the parking lot of Anthony’s Pier 4, much less eat there. So don’t expect this girl to weep even a little bit for this circa 1963 restaurant that finally closed its doors tonight.

Anthony’s Pier 4

Popovers, shmopovers.

Before I begin this screed against ye olde seafood shanty on Boston Harbor, I need to remind readers that I am a student of history. I devote hours of my time and throw lots of money at preserving the past as well as precious farmland in Westport, home of my ancestors. I like old things — houses, furniture, recipes and a certain Boston ballpark.

But a 50-year old Boston eatery with a (now late) cantankerous owner and over-salted food? I don’t even care that my life guru, Julia Child, had her fading photo up on the wall. It was no Locke-Ober — to me anyway. Raze the damn thing.

Anthony Athanas and Julia Child

I spent a career trying to avoid the place after the owner, Anthony Athanas, cussed me out after I dared to question his bookkeeper about an extra charge on a bill after a Society of Professional Journalists dinner. After his rant, he told me he didn’t want our business and didn’t care if we returned. We didn’t. However, sadly, I had to darken the doorway many times over 25 years while doing my job.

Once, my partner, Gayle Fee, and I were forced into some frivolity at Anthony’s on one of the hottest days of the summer. Instead of moving the party inside into the air conditioning, we had to do that thing that we did outside on the patio where there was a raw bar fermenting in the sun.

Ever smell an over-ripe raw bar? It’s like low-tide. Only with cocktail sauce. But for some reason, Gayle, whose olfactory glands were on holiday, couldn’t stop herself.

“STEP AWAY FROM THE RAW BAR,” I growled, grabbing her arm as she whisked past me.

“Why,” she quizzed, rolling her eyes.

“Take a good whiff, will ya?”

And then, pffft, we were gone.

Another time there was a bug — one that is common in city apartments — crawling up the arm of one of our colleagues at another Anthony’s “soiree.” Again, it made for a hasty exit.

Besides that ripe raw bar and creepy crawlies, the food just wasn’t good. But of course it didn’t have to be because Pier 4 was in a killer location, and, for decades, it was the only game in town save for Locke-Ober and Cafe Budapest.

The over-hyped popovers were tasteless, the Ritz Crackers and pot of orange cheese on the table were from 1963, and the entrees and chowder would send your sodium level into the stratosphere.

My father surmised at my cousin’s wedding reception at Anthony’s 20 years ago that the cooks were so old that they had lost their taste buds so they oversalted. At the time, I scoffed at the idea. Now, he sounds like a genius.

BTW, I’m holding steady in my belief that Julia only posed with Anthony Athanas for that photo to be nice. The French Chef was like that. Maybe in my next life…

Cooking + Baking = Happy Me

July 23, 2013 - Posted in Baking, Cooking, Cooking for Children, LauraRaposa, Little Foodies, The Foodsmith, Uncategorized

Here’s a blog post I wrote this week for the gals at betterafter50.com. Enjoy!

There are lots of things that make me happy–road trips, a purring cat on my lap, an enthusiastic hug from a child. But nothing, I mean nothing compares to the joy I feel cooking for my family and friends.

It’s why you do it, right?

Who made the ice cream? Auntie Laura!

I’ve been accused of “showing off” or “trying to impress” with my culinary skills. And, yes, maybe there is something to that. But truthfully, my reasons are totally selfish. Feeding people – whether it’s 200 people or just my husband – brings sheer satisfaction.

Perhaps I forgot to mention I have a rep as Her Royal Highness, Queen of the Misanthropes. It’s not undeserved. But even the cranky need to feel happy. (Don’t even argue with me on this point, OK?)

As one of my friends has told me repeatedly through the years: “Hey, Laura Jeanne, if it doesn’t make you happy, why do it?”

Damn right. Why buy children toys when you can slave over a hot stove on a sweltering day to make them strawberry ice cream and watch them lick the bowl? Sure, making a pit stop at the toyshop takes little effort, but believe me, my investment reaps a higher yield for the long term, as they say on Wall Street.

A couple of weeks ago, two of my favorite pixies Melanie, 5, and Paige, 3, asked me when I was going to make ice cream again. Well, Auntie’s been hoarding native strawberries in the freezer, kids. Any day now…

Click here for video: IMG_2498. And here: IMG_2501

My “need to feed” isn’t exclusive to my family circle. For instance, it’s the reason behind the rush I got every year while serving Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless on the parquet at Boston’s TD Garden when I was a newspaper columnist.

I certainly didn’t prepare the food, but I enjoyed dishing it out and talking to the guests in line. The people probably didn’t smile much any other day, but, c’mon, whose eyes don’t light up at a big scoop of stuffing?

The other day, I joined fellow staffers from Flour Bakery + Café to serve dinner at Pine Street Inn, a local homeless shelter.

Some Flour do-gooders at Pine Street Inn.

Again, we didn’t cook the meal. We didn’t even bake the cake for dessert. But I found when one makes eye contact, smiles and delivers a big scoop of macaroni salad they usually got a response. Lots of men thanked us for stopping by. It felt gooood.

For years, I’ve joked with my parents that if I, their misanthropic spawn, ever owned a restaurant, they would have to deal with the front of the house. Just keep me in the kitchen to rattle the pots ‘n’ pans and away from the paying public. Oh, how we laugh and laugh…

Now, I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s age or perhaps the annoying phrase “change of life” means more to me than just hot flashes, mood swings and belly flab. Have I finally learned to make myself happy? Let me chew on that…

AUNTIE LAURA’S STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM

1-3/4 c. heavy cream

3 strips of lemon zest

¼ t. salt

2 large eggs

¾ c. sugar

1 lb. strawberries (3 cups), trimmed, hulled PLUS

1 c. strawberries, trimmed, hulled and sliced

1 T. fresh lemon juice

2 T. pomegranate juice

Combine cream, zest, and salt in a heavy saucepan and bring just to a boil. Remove from the heat and discard zest.

Whisk eggs with ½ c. sugar in a bowl, then add hot cream in a slow stream, whisking. Pour back into the saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until slightly thickened and an instant-read thermometer hits 170 degrees. Do not boil. (The boiling point is 212 degrees, so watch the thermometer like a hawk!)

Immediately pour custard through a fine sieve into a metal bowl, then cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally. Chill, covered, at least until cold, about 2 hours, or up to 1 day.

While custard is chilling, puree 1 pound of strawberries with remaining ¼ cup sugar and lemon in a blender until smooth, then force the mixture through a fine sieve into the chilled custard. Stir puree into the custard. Add pomegranate juice and the sliced strawberries.*

Transfer the mixture into an ice cream maker and prepare according to manufacturer’s instructions. When it’s done, scoop the ice cream into an airtight container and put in the freezer to harden.

The ice cream keeps for a week.

* To keep the sliced strawberries from hardening like little rocks in the ice cream, you can macerate them in 1 or 2 tablespoons of kirsch, framboise or vodka before adding them in. The alcohol prevents hardening. Perhaps if this recipe is made for children, you’d prefer to skip this step.