3
" Saturday, I slipped out to the farmers' market. Waiting for me were crates of pears in shades of green, gold, and rose. I fell in love.
I brought home a flat of Comice pears and placed them on my dining room table. I pulled out a chair so that I could look at them at eye level.
Pears.
Pear cake, pear sauce, caramelized pears, baked pears.
Pear tart. Everybody liked tarts. I could flavor it with vanilla for depth, lemon zest for brightness, and cardamom as a surprise. I could make it as a galette, a free-form tart, and use a buttery puff-pastry crust.
If I wanted to get my hands into food, puff pastry was a good place to do it. The process of making the laminated dough, folding butter into already buttery dough over and over---depending on your mood, it could be hypnotically soothing or mind-numbingly tedious.
It sounded perfect. "
― Hillary Manton Lodge , Together at the Table (Two Blue Doors #3)
6
" Tonight's lesson was a breadcrumb cake, and the idea that so many Italian desserts were less about being impressive---as so many French recipes were---than about being resourceful. "After all," I said, "tiramisu is just cookies dipped in coffee and liqueur, layered with custard."
For the breadcrumb cake, I walked them through how to make the breadcrumbs. "There's no sense in buying breadcrumbs, not in that quantity."
We sliced the crusts off of the bread together, toasted the slices lightly, and ran the bread through the food processor.
Afterward, we grated the dark chocolate, peeled and sliced the pears, cracked eggs, and measured cream. The thick batter came together quickly, and we placed them into the ovens.
While the cakes baked, I walked them through the pasta fritta alla Siracusa, the angel-hair pasta twirls fried in a shallow amount of oil. We boiled up the pasta, then stirred together honey and candied orange before chopping pistachios and adding some cinnamon.
One by one, they dropped the knotted pasta into the oil and cooked them on both sides. After draining them, we drizzled the honey mixture over the top, followed by a sprinkle of the pistachios and cinnamon.
The process of frying the pasta bundles, one by one, kept everyone busy until the breadcrumb cakes finished baking. "
― Hillary Manton Lodge , Together at the Table (Two Blue Doors #3)
7
" Trying to decide---I can't say if you should wait in line at Salt & Straw or Voodoo Doughnuts. Do you have a preference?"
"Not waiting in line? Portlanders are surprisingly willing to wait for their food."
"They're willing to wait when the food is worth their time. I think Salt & Straw. And really, they've got a smart setup to keep your wait as short as possible, and they give out samples while you're in line. At least, they did when I was there."
"And this is... artisanal salt? And straw?"
"It's ice cream," I said with a laugh. "Really good ice cream, with fun, inventive flavors. And even if you don't want inventive, the basics are worth the wait."
"Well, if you're sending me to ice cream, then you have to get Cat to take you to Black Dog Gelato. Once you're back in Chicago, at least. "
― Hillary Manton Lodge , Together at the Table (Two Blue Doors #3)
8
" I clicked the obituary, my heart pounding.
" 'Alice Roussard passed away on February 8, 2008. She was 87,' " I read.
Caterina tapped her fingers against the desk. "Bingo."
" 'Alice is survived by her husband Benjamin and three daughters,' " I continued. " 'Lisette Greenfeld of Kansas City, KS; Vi Lipniki of Poughkeepsie, NY; and Rosaline Warner of Saint Louis, MO.' "
"Ha! No wonder you were having trouble getting anywhere with Roussard. Benjamin had three daughters, all of whom changed their names."
"Well, now we've got them."
"Saint Louis is within driving distance, Etta. If we found a number or e-mail for Rosaline..."
"It's certainly worth a try," I said, clicking to a new browser window. I typed in Rosaline Warner's name and hit Enter.
"Would you look at that," Cat said when we reviewed the results.
I couldn't help but chuckle as well. Link after link featured Rosaline Warner, the James Beard Award-winning pastry chef and proprietress of the Feisty Baguette. "Genetics," I said. "They'll getcha every time. "
― Hillary Manton Lodge , Together at the Table (Two Blue Doors #3)
9
" Kenny. You've got the Moroccan carrot salad done, but where are we with the brussels sprouts?"
"Everything is prepped. We just need the sprouts."
"Good. Go ahead and start caramelizing the onions for the goat-cheese toasts, and then get the bacon going---just be sure to undercook the bacon. It'll cook the rest of the way in the oven."
"Yes, chef."
"Clementine, can you take over the grilled crudités? We need to get them chilled by five."
She nodded. "Yes, chef."
"Excellent. I'll start prepping the butternut-squash fritters," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "And then the mozzarella poppers. Let's get to work."
I was elbows deep in fried mozzarella and crispy-edged butternut-squash fritters when my brother and boyfriend finally arrived, wet and bedraggled, at the kitchen door.
"I have dates," Nico said, holding the crate aloft. "Dates and brussels sprouts."
"It's about time," I shot back. "You've been single far too long."
"I'm going to get cleaned up," he said, "and then I can relieve you."
"Take your time," I replied honestly. "I've got everything under control."
And I did. The fritters were done and in the warming oven with a cake pan full of water in the rack below to keep them from drying out. I'd made up the mozzarella poppers by breading the rounds of buffalo-milk mozzarella with batter and panko crumbs before deep-frying them in batches.
It had felt good to work with my hands again, good to do something other than managerial work. I cast a longing eye at Clementine's pavlovas, the baked egg whites topped with quartered figs. There was something soothing about working with egg whites, the frothy pure-white shade they became when whisked. "
― Hillary Manton Lodge , Together at the Table (Two Blue Doors #3)
