Julia...who else?

Through the Buffalo Film Society, we lucked out with passes to an advance screening of Julie & Julia last night, and it brought back our own cherished memories of the culinary legend. In the fall of 1991, one of us attended a "marketplace tasting" presented by the D.C.-area chapter of the American Institute of Wine and Food, at Union Station in our nation's capital. We got to sample foods from the Capital Region, and bought one of Julia's cookbooks, which she personalized for us. How things have changed...the ticket price was a mere fifteen dollars! Union Station had only recently been restored, and it was a grand setting for the occasion.

In the late Nineties, the other one of us had the privilege of waiting on her and Chef Alfred Portale at Gotham Bar and Grill in New York City. She and the chef's party sat at Table 45, the large round table in the center of the floor. Julia was dressed in her trademark, no-nonsense matron francaise mode. After Champagne was poured and amuses-bouche of silken Goat Cheese Ravioli with Cremini Mushrooms and Parmesan had been delivered and devoured, Julia turned to the chef and said in her sing-song, plummy voice, "Now, what shall we eat?" Alfred, who we still greatly admire and respect, seemed at a loss for words, but Julia opened the menu and said, "Now, this sound delicious...Pheasant and Foie Gras Terrine..." We left them to discuss the strategy for ordering, and everyone else at the table wanted to know what Julia and Alfred were having before they ordered.

We remember that terrine almost as much as we remember being in the presence of the late, great author of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. The portion was a good half-inch slice of rich, wine-colored pheasant forcemeat studded with morsels of foie gras that nearly melted during the bain-marie bath in the oven. There were pistachios and peppercorns and a white ribbon of fatback around the whole terrine slice, which came with a salad of blanched haricot verts that snapped when you ate them, as well as some simple but delicious lentilles du Puy. We still make pates and terrines on special occasions, and are tracking down the technique and proper name for a chicken galantine we haven't made in a while.

The movie, incidentally, is enchanting. Bon appetit!

The Rain in Spain...

We did a menu recently that was a real success:

Salad of Valencia Oranges with Avocado, Black Olives, and Red Onion
Grilled Flank Steak with a Cumin-Paprika Dry Rub, Sherry Vinaigrette, and Cabrales
Juicy Dish Paella with Red Snapper, Shrimp, Chorizo, Scallops, and Fresh Peas
Fricassee of Chicken, Spanish-Style
Pappas Fritas with Aioli, Fresh Mushrooms with Red Peppers
and a Flourless Chocolate Cake with a Touch of Chili and Espresso Powder

The client's only initial suggestion was for the pappas fritas with the aioli, and as soon as we heard that, the idea of a grilled flank steak came to mind. Or should we say, to palate! We love grilled beef in the summertime--there's nothing better in the summer than a juicy ribeye right off the grill--and though the menu could have gone in a straightforward, tomato-salad-and-corn-on-the-cob direction, the pappas fritas idea suggested Spain to us. What we thought of next was a grilled flank steak with blue cheese and sherry vinaigrette. Doing an overnight dry rub of cumin and paprika would give the meat lots of flavors without going too spicy.

The rest of the menu fell into place pretty quickly. The salad was a way to make a green salad heartier, but we did this a week later for a private party without the lettuces, and it was even more delicious. The plated colors--orange, black, avocado, and purple--were all the table decor that was needed. We have an assortment of glazed terra cotta cookware that are like cazuelas, and we wanted to use those for service.

The most intriguing dish was the flourless chocolate cake with a touch of chili powder, cinnamon, and espresso. We'd heard of the idea of chocolate and chili before--just saying that makes us think of Aztecs and pyramids and ancient gods--but we wanted something both elegant and intriguing. Sure enough, once the moist chocolatey goodness began to melt on the tongue, the chili flavor came forward. There was a moment when we wondered, Will it be too much? But just as we thought that, the flavor receded and the chocolate reasserted itself. With a dollop of fresh whipped cream, it was a great dessert. We made the cake the following week with all organic ingredients, and it may have only been our imaginations, but it tasted even better.

Summer Herbs

Summer will always remind us of Cape Cod. For several summers back in the mid-Nineties, we worked for the late Diana Trilling. Mrs. Trilling was one of the last of the New York Intellectuals, but when we took the job, we knew her mostly as a widow of nearly ninety who needed a driver and a companion. Mrs. Trilling hired us partly on the basis of our experience in restaurants, as well as our enthusiasm for cooking and eating in general. We got to know her, her history, and her work over the course of three summers in Wellfleet, but we got to know her best through food and cooking.

Mrs. Trilling enjoyed fresh fish, tomatoes (pronounced with the long "a", natch) and corn on the cob. She commented constantly about how bad food in America was becoming; this was a good decade before the current uproar against what post-war economic expansion has done to eating in our culture. She loved steamer clams, although she was squeamish about cleaning them, and once in a while, enjoyed the treat of a fresh lobster. Eating this summer's peaches and tomatoes and corn here in Buffalo, we can't help thinking, "Hmm...that's not the best peach I've ever had..." And when we're shopping at Wegman's, we find ourselves thinking with her mind, speaking to ourselves with her voice. "That canteloupe is too large...choose smaller fruits...they taste better...Americans think large is best, and that's a fallacy."

We thought of the herb garden we gave her for her last, ninety-third birthday. Mrs. Trilling loved tomatoes with basil, olive oil, and salt and pepper, and the expense of herbs at the local market--Hatch's, which sits on the edge of the parking lot behind the Wellfleet Town Hall. Her last July--her birthday was the 21st of this month--we bought a large terra cotta pot, a bag of potting soil, and a collection of potted herbs, including basil, thyme, marjoram, dill, and oregano. She was delighted by the miniature garden, and enjoyed the herbs as much as she could that last summer of her life. When we left the Cape at the end of the season, we had to leave the pot there. Perhaps someone transplanted them without telling us; perhaps some of the plants were discarded, but found their own way to sink their roots into the sandy Cape soil.

Independence Days

The Fourth of July weekend reminds us of the work we used to do in our previous "lives" in New York City and Washington, D.C. Though those two cities are traditionally associated with the holiday, we typically had to work at our employers' homes elsewhere along the Atlantic shore.

Chef Tracey used to work for International Medical Consulting, and entertained at a house in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, for their president and CEO. He would arrive the Wednesday or Thursday before the holiday weekend, shop the following day for local produce and seafood, and spend a day or two doing prep work. Guests arrived Friday for a self-serve lunch buffet; dinner was usually a family-style casserole-type meal--homemade lasagna, since the employer was Italian-American (he was related to Albert J. "Cubby" Broccoli, Jr., the producer of the James Bond movies in the Eighties) and since guests tended to trickle in throughout the evening. Saturday brunch was an abbondanza of eggs, fruit, and pastries; lunch a cold buffet, with a semi-formal dinner that evening. Smoked salmon, blackeyed peacakes with corn salsa, shrimp satay were passed beforehand; guests frequently enjoyed extra-thick veal chops studded with garlic and fresh rosemary and grilled to order. Risotto, Caesar salad, and ratatouille were the most frequent accompaniments. After dinner, everyone adjourned to the roofdeck for digestivi and fireworks.

Meanwhile, a six-hour drive up the Atlantic shore, another member of our team was ensconced on Lily Pond Lane in a home decorated in white-on-white. The table was set for such guests as Calvin Klein, Vera Wang, Alan Alda, Senator Alphonse d'Amato, Joe Namath, Regis Philbin and many other boldface names. Hors d'oeuvres included miniature crab cakes, fresh corn arepas, and classic pigs-in-blankets; the bartenders shook rum, cachaca, fresh lime, and mint for mojitos and caipirinhas. At table the dishes frequently included fresh paella with ample ocean bounty--lobster, chicken, clams, and shrimp--from the new Citarella's in East Hampton, and dessert was often a creamy caramel flan with ripe midsummer berries. In the pool room after dinner, reposado tequila and Upmann cigars were passed to the sound of Rod Stewart's classic "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?"