Just a simple dinner

Minted English Pea Soup with Herbed Crab Salad
Butternut Lasagna with Ceasar Salad
Homemade Cinnamon-Sugar Doughnuts and Frozen Hot Chocolate

It was just a simple dinner tonight.

The English Peas for the soup came from a great little farm nearby called Bluff Gardens. Everything in Bluff Gardens is miniature – the potatoes are sorted by size and color; the smallest are the size of your pinky nail and the largest the size of a golf ball. Haricot verts are the slightly wider than a toothpick and about as long, paddy pans are the size of your thumb nail along with miniature zucchini’s, carrots, beets, onions and cucumbers. Only two small tables make up the produce selection, but I suppose you don’t need so much space when everything is so tiny! In keeping with everything in Bluff Gardens being dainty and petite, so are the two cutest little old ladies that work behind the counter. With sweaters on over their aprons and warmth emanating from their eyes, they always greet the shoppers with a warm hello and are especially careful when weighing, measuring or packing up the goods.

I bought several pounds of English Peas and spent my free time over the passed two days shelling them. They were as sweet as sugar. I blanched them quickly so that they would keep their color and then sweated out onions and garlic, added white wine and chicken stock and the peas, only letting the peas cook for another minute or two so that they would keep their almost fluorescent green hue. Then, I pureed them, seasoned the soup and added finely chopped mint and chives.

I made the dough for the lasagna from scratch as I’ve been obsessed with pasta making ever since my friend, Diana, gave me a pasta machine last summer. I love kneading the dough and feeling it as it goes from a lumpy, sticky mass to soft and supple just from the work of my hands. I love rolling it out into long, smooth and fragile sheets. But mostly, I love eating the finished product because even if it isn’t perfect, it’s still 100 times better than the boxed stuff from the grocery store.

The butternut squash and ridicchio for the lasagna (and the baby romaine for the salad) all came from Bill’s Farm Stand in Petoskey. Another amazing farmers market. I’m so spoiled by ingredients – I don’t know what I’m going to do when I have to get back on the yacht and deal with provisioners and produce that has been sitting in a shipping container for two weeks, looks beautiful but tastes like crap. I had better appreciate this while it lasts!

The ricotta for the lasagna was also homemade. The milk, of course, is locally produced from the Shetler Family Dairy – and it just makes the most beautiful ricotta. Ricotta is the easiest thing in the world to make in fact and I've made it quite a few times since discovering how great the local milk tastes! I combined a 1/2 gallon of full-fat milk with 2 cups of buttermilk. Brought it to 180 degrees (farenheit), at which point it began to curdle. Turned off the heat, let it sit for about 20 minutes and strained it through cheese cloth. About an hours worth of work from start to finish and it yielded 13 oz. of fresh ricotta. But I have to warn you, the ricotta is so good, you may just want to drizzle it with some honey, maybe a few toasted almonds and some dried apricots and eat it as is… My friend, Greg, and I got talking and he said that he makes ricotta using lemon juice instead of buttermilk. So, I tried both methods and I definitely prefer using buttermilk. The lemon juice gave the ricotta a distinctly lemony flavor which is fine if you want that, but the buttermilk made for softer curds and the ricotta just tasted like the great milk that it was made from.

The tomato sauce came from our own gardens as I’m now getting about 5 lbs. a day of fresh tomatoes from the yard! I blanched and peeled them all and made a fresh sauce with just white onions, garlic, a touch of balsamic vinegar (how can I resist) and fresh basil.

The recipe for the lasagna actually came from Mrs. X! One of the biggest challenges of being a private chef is coming up with new menus and recipes on a daily basis, but one of the (many) benefits to having a boss that knows and loves food is she comes up with great ideas as well – and I’m more than happy to oblige…

Frozen hot chocolate – inspiration compliments of Serendipity in New York City and I found Mirabelle’s frozen hot chocolate at Symon’s in Petosky – a labyrinth of shelves paying homage to gourmet ingredients and a wine cellar to boot. Mirabelle’s is a chocolatier on Broome St. in NYC where I have blown many a hard-earned pay check indulging in my chocolate fantasies.

Like I said, just a simple dinner.

Butternut Squash Lasagna

1 butternut squash, about 3 lbs. peeled and sliced about 1/4 inch thick
1 lb. Ridicchio, shredded
1 large onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 lbs. tomatoes, peeled and chopped
1/2 cup fresh basil, finely chopped
1 Tbsp. Balsamic vinegar
1 tsp. Sugar (or to taste)
1 cup ricotta cheese
2 eggs
2 cups crème fraiche
2 cups Parmigiano Reggiano, grated
1 lb. Fresh Lasagna noodles (uncooked)
Olive oil
Salt and Pepper to taste

Lay squash slices on baking sheets lined with a Silpat or parchment paper. Brush with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and bake in 375 F. oven until soft.

Heat olive oil in large sauté pan and sauté onions and garlic until soft, being cautious not to get any color on them. Add tomatoes and simmer until slightly thickened. Add basil, balsamic, sugar (if necessary) and season with salt and pepper.

In a mixing bowl, combine ricotta, crème fraiche, eggs and half of ground parmesan. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Cover bottom of large pyrex or stoneware baking dish with half of the tomato sauce. Add a layer of noodles, a layer of butternuts squash (using half the squash) and half of the ridicchio and all of the cheese mixture. Then, add another layer of lasagna noodles, the remainder of the squash, remainder of the redicchio and top it with the remainder of the tomato sauce.

Cover with aluminium foil and bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Remove the foil and add the remainder of the parmesan and bake for 15 to 20 minutes, uncovered. Allow to stand for 10 minutes before serving…

What To Expect When You're Expecting...

Day 4:

My sourdough culture - a frothing, bubbling mass with a delectable yeasty smell. A big day today, Momma gets fed for the first time!














Following Nancy Silverton's advice in "Breads for the La Brea Bakery", I add warm water and flour and stick my (washed) hands into the slimey mixture feeling the bubbles around my hands and the warmth from the fermentation., swishing the cheese cloth sack of grapes around the mixture.

My culture is officially a "mother" and can be used to make bread. But, following the advice of Silverton, I'm going to let her sour for 9 more days and then put my momma on a strict feeding schedule...

Day 5:

My momma has seperated with a yellowy liquid floating on top. The cheese cloth sack of grapes has floated to the top. She still smells delectably sour and I'm amazed the grapes haven't gotten all funky and moldy! But the grape seeds have worked their way through the cheese cloth. I wonder how that's going to work when I start making bread? Hmmmm....

Notes from a Bonafide Food Snob

“Better is a meal of herbs where love is, than a fatted ox and hatred therewith.”
Proverbs 15:17

Dinner:
Tomato Bruschetta with Garlic, Basil and Villa Manodori Aged Balsamic Vinegar
Toasted Garlic Rubbed Peasant Bread

Farro with Chanterelle Mushrooms, English Peas
Oven Roasted Tomatoes and Basil Pesto

Salad of Just Picked Haricot Verts, Baby Paddy Pan Squash,
Redicchio, Homemade Herbed Ricotta Cheese and Lemon-Herb Vinaigrette

Pork Saltambocca – Pork Tenderloin Medalions Pounded Thin
Wrapped with Proscutto and Fresh Sage Leaves with a White Wine Sauce

Dessert:
Plate of Local Michigan Fruits including Musk Melon, Peaches,
Nectarines, Blue and Black Berries

Selection of Italian Cookies and Chocolates:
Pignoli Cookies, Florentines and Mocha Biscotti
Dark Chocolate and Orange Flower Truffles

Perhaps it’s the vibe from all my comrades working the Mediterranean season along the Italian Riviera that inspired me, or perhaps just the amazing selection of fresh produce as we hit peak season here in Northern Michigan.

We have 10 tomato plants in the garden and every day for the past week I have been out picking tomatoes in a race against the deer! Cherry tomatoes, plum tomatoes, grape tomatoes and yellow tomatoes (we’ll have to do some heirlooms next year)… Tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes! I’ve made fresh tomato sauce and panzanella salad and yesterday I was inspired to make my own oven-dried tomatoes. Two full trays of tomatoes and over 10 hours in the dehydrator and they still weren’t completely dry – but were they ever delicious! But what the fresh tomatoes were really screaming for was Bruschetta. I diced the ripest of the bunch and made a garlic paste with fresh, organic garlic from the local farm stand (fresh garlic makes all the difference in the world – completely devoid of the harsh and astringent quality of the dried out stuff on the grocery store shelves, it is instead warm and strong and well rounded). I tossed the tomatoes and garlic with Maldon Sea Salt, fresh ground pepper, Villa Manodori Balsamic Vinegar and Castella’s Olive Oil (from Provence, and one of my favorite olive oils). Villa Manodori is a small production Balsamic vinegar from Modena, Italy and has been one of my favorite pantry items for years now. It’s pricey, but still well under what other authentic Balsamic will run and well worth the splurge as nothing can quite compare to a fresh picked, juicy, red tomato still warm from the sun, sprinkled with the big, crunchy, flaky crystals of Maldon Sea Salt, a drizzle of a fruity olive oil and this thick, perfectly sweet and perfectly acidic vinegar. When I first got turned on to good Balsamic and coughed up $50 for an 8 oz. bottles (some bottles can cost over $200, for 4 oz,), I was plagued with guilt, for about 5 minutes. I would drizzle it modestly over my salads or on a piece of fish, or over fresh, in-season strawberries with vanilla ice-cream. But nobody can accuse me of being modest now. I’m a bonafide Balsamic snob. I wouldn’t be caught dead reaching for a bottle of grocery store balsamic glazes, cheap balsamic that’s been boiled down with sugar and corn syrup to a thick sludge, that have popped up in gourmet stores nationwide in the past few years, or, heaven forbid, cook down a bottle of that tart, thin, insidious swill being passed off in your grocery store as Balsamic. Believe me, if a 10 oz. bottle costs $4.99, it ain’t real balsamic.

I served the bruschetta with toasted peasant bread that I rubbed with a garlic clove – a step definitely worth the effort as even just a quick rub with the clove imparts a nice, garlicky bite to the bread without it being over-bearing.

Faro is another ingredient that I quite enjoy working with. In boring English, you’ll find it in the health food store bulk bin as “spelt”. In the gourmet food stores you’ll find it sold by an Italian distributor and labled “Faro”, which sounds so much more gourmet and therefore retails for twice as much money. Either way you buy yours, soak it over night before you cook it. Faro has a wonderful nutty quality to it, it is very toothsome and the grain almost bursts in your mouth as you chew. If you prefer, it can be cooked just like risotto; slowly stirred to release the starches and then finished with parmesan cheese. It is a great replacement for Arborio rice for people who are trying to be more health conscious (faro is a whole grain and is high in fiber, b-12, complex carbs and protein and can also be eaten by people that are sensitive to glutens or have wheat allergies). I simmered my faro in white wine and chicken stock, and then drained it, let it cool and tossed it with fresh pesto (basil from the garden, of course. Pine nuts and lots of olive oil, but no parmesan cheese), sautéed chanterelle mushrooms and fresh English peas. The inspiration for this dish actually came from The Four Seasons restaurant – a beacon to the power lunching masses in Midtown Manhattan. The Four Seasons used to offer a $25 lunch which including a half-dozen oysters and their faro of the day – a treat my friend Camille and I have turned into religion every time I visit New York City, although sadly and much to our chagrin, it was recently discontinued (though our tradition lives on). I tried to ask Julian how he could let the chef get rid of my favorite lunch, but he was too busy on his cell phone trying to marry me off to one of his Lebanese friends in Los Angeles. Next time. I’ll get to the bottom of this…

But I digress, where was I going with this?

The “Just Picked” haricot verts came from my friend Tammy’s garden. She brought them as a gift when she came to serve for the dinner party. They were the most beautiful, deep green beans I have ever seen! She handed them to me and said, “I’m sure you have the menu planned already, but…”. But nothing, how could I not serve them? Raw, they were perfectly sweet and crisp. I almost wanted to serve them that way, but some peoples appreciation of food can only go so far – and so I decided on just a quick blanch; tender and crisp and bright green – certainly “raw” by English standards, and down right blasphemous by French...

The inspiration for the Pork Saltambocca came from my favorite restaurant Al Di La in Park Slope, Brooklyn and also the abundance of fresh sage growing in the herb garden.

And lastly, dessert. Well, one of the things that I love about what I do is the immediate gratification – people walking into the kitchen and saying, “oh, that was so good”, etc., etc. But it pains me when people rub their bellies and say, “I’m getting fat because of you, Cristina”. And so, instead of a plated dessert I put out a large fruit platter loaded with everything the season here has to offer; ripe local musk melon, local berries, local peaches and apricots along with homemade orange-flower dark chocolate truffles rolled in cocoa powder, and homemade Italian cookies including mocha biscotti, pignoli nut cookies and almond Florentines.

Everyone seemed to linger over this meal, conversation flowed around the table and people helped themselves to more food. Dessert let everyone linger more and take their time – which was exactly the desired effect. I feel like Tita in “Like Water for Chocolate”, only my food doesn’t make people cry. At least not out of sadness…

Todo Sobre Mi Madre...

A Greek saying states that only women who have washed their eyes with tears can see clearly. This saying does not hold true for Cristina. The night her bread starter died, Cristina cried until her eyes ran completely dry. Far from seeing clearly, her bread making becomes mixed up in darkness.

That same night, while trying to revive her starter, she reads the last lines written in a food journal that she always keeps by her side. "This morning I looked through my cupboards until I found a bag of white bread. The consistency and flavor of tissue paper. The remaining slice, exactly 1/4 inch thick, and cut in half. My fate, I suppose. I have the impression that my life is missing that same half. I want to make my own bread. I don’t care what the grocery store offers, or who how long it takes. No one can take that right away from me."

Cristina never told anyone about her difficulties with bread starters. For years she used freeze-dried commercial yeast from the grocery store (gasp!). She was a freelancer, she reasoned. It was impractical to take her starter wherever she went. In memory of two failed bread starters that began with commercial yeast, Cristina threw caution to the wind and decided to start from scratch.

Organic Grapes.

The quest to make the perfect sourdough starter cannot be simple, or can it?

Day 1:
Cristina finds a bag of Organic Grapes at the grocery store. Feeling inspired she wraps them in cheesecloth, mixes up a bucket of bread flour and luke warm water and gentle crushes the parcel of grapes over the flour mixture. She swishes the grapes through the mixture, then secures the lid and leaves it in the darkness. Alone.

Day 2:
The mixture begins to separate into a thick, starchy mass with a few bubbles and a layer of liquid on top. Not very appealing.

Day 3:
Full of frothing bubbles, a yeasty aroma fills the air when the lid is removed. The mixture is no longer separated, instead it is one growing, bubbling mass…

The plot thickens…

Stuffin' things

Peanut Soba Noodles with Tofu and Red Peppers

Sesame Snap Peas

Orange Poached Prawn Salad with Wasabi Vinaigrette

Szechuan Peppercorn Crusted Beef Tenderloin

Stuffed with Homemade Chinese Pork Sausage and Shiitake Mushrooms

Green Tea Crème Brulee with a Chocolate Sesame Tuile

Our potential captain for the new yacht has come to town for the weekend with his wife and two other crewmembers from the yacht he currently runs. His welcoming committee, along with the owners, are 12 sailors in town for a regatta on Lake Michigan and the next three days will be spent cutting the water on the bosses new 46 foot Hinckley and trying to woo the captain to jump ship from his current 100 foot sailing yacht to a 160 foot motor yacht – are hard sell for a tried and true wind lover. But I have vowed to use my powers of culinary persuasion to influence his decision.

I had it in my mind to do something Asian, to satiate my craving for Peanut Soba noodles and sesame snap peas. The snap peas from the local farm are bright green and as sweet as sugar. And, the noodle recipe would give me the chance to test out the locally made firm tofu from the food co-op that Mrs. X has been telling me about! Since the captain and his wife are both South African, I figured a giant slab of meat was in order (the staple food of South Africans around the globe), and to feed a crew that big, I decided to go with Beef Tenderloin.

I developed a fascination with stuffing things lately after the recent success of a chorizo and queso fresco stuffed pork tenderloin I prepared a few parties back. I’ve never really been a “stuffer of things” in the past. For me, “stuffed meats” conjure up thoughts of stodgy, old French food, or worse: turduckens. So I never really saw stuffing, outside of the traditional Thanksgiving turkey, as something that fit into my culinary repertoire. But now it was time to try something new…

Down a winding country road, through fields of purple wild flowers and dense, green forest (which describes just about every country road in Northern Michigan), there is a local farm that along with carrying their own beef (you can see the cows grazing in the green pastures as you drive up) also produces farm-fresh pork sausage and this gave me an idea for the stuffing. I made my stuffing by sautéing shiitake mushrooms with lots of ginger and garlic and then sautéing the pork sausage with the mushrooms and including a healthy sprinkle of Chinese Five Spice, orange peel, fennel seed and scallions. Then, I sharpened up my slicer and set to butterflying the tenderloin. It sounds macabre to say, but I felt like a surgeon as the knife slid across the flesh as I carefully made my first incision. I worked my way through the beef, rolling it out like a carpet. I then stuffed it full of sausage and laced it up again like a corset.

Having recently been to New York City for a weekend, and to my favorite spice shop in the world (Kalustyan’s), I had returned to Michigan with bags of goodies including some spicy little Szechuan peppercorns. I made a crust for the tenderloin by grinding them up along with black peppercorns, coriander seed and sea salt.

On to Dessert:

As the label states on the glass bottle, “Our cows aren’t on drugs, but they are on grass!”, the milk from the local dairy is fresh, rGBH-free and un-homogonized (this means you have to shake it in order to mix the cream-top into the milk). The milk is tastier than the mass-produced milk you buy from the grocery store. It tastes more rich, “milkier”, with hints of the grassy green fields from which the cows are fed. It’s so good in fact that I have enjoyed showing it off by making fresh ricotta that I’ve used in salads and on pasta, and lots of fresh ice-cream. I do think there is also a textural difference in cooking with the higher quality milk as well, the ricotta, ice-creams and especially the Green Tea crème brulee that was dessert for this party all seamed more creamy and smooth.

Dinner went off without a hitch and the sailors left with their bellies full and a smile on their faces. Hopefully the captain will say yes, but I still have two more meals to work on him…

In two weeks I’ll be flying out to Seattle with the bosses to see the latest progress on the yacht. Stay tuned, I’ll definitely have pictures and stories from that that one!!!

The Life of Pie

Spicy Cole Slaw with a Lime-Cilantro Vinaigrette
Roasted Sweet Potato Fries
Spice Rubbed, Mesqiuite Grilled Flank Steak with Salsa Verde
Corn Bread with Basil and Fresh Corn
Corn on the Cob
Homemade Blueberry Pie with Almond Crumble Topping and Whipped Cream
Homemade Raspberry Sorbet with U-Pick Raspberries from Pond Hill Farms

“What IS this?” she said, standing over the platter, two quivering pieces of meat hanging precariously off of one tong on the oversized serving fork. My stomach rolled into a knot, every molecule of my being wanted to duck behind the counter. I wanted to stick my thumb in my mouth for security and cry.

“What IS THIS?” her voice commanded again as she peered at me over her John Lennon glasses. I could see it, the meat wasn’t cut all the way through. The two paper thin slices bound together by a stringy piece of flesh. Like Siamese twins, they wanted to live separate lives but couldn’t escape each other. An ounce more pressure of the knife and they could’ve been free! It could’ve been perfect. But no, not this time…

Flashback to January 2002, I was cooking at Julia’s Kitchen at Copia in the Napa Valley. Alain Ducasse came in for dinner that night and when he walked into the restaurant, it was as if Jesus Christ himself had walked into your living room; everything came to a screeching halt and all eyes were expectantly on him. Food stopped sizzling in its pan out of reverence. The hoods above the stove fell silent out of humility. Even the water at the dishwasher’s station seemed to fall from the spout noiselessly. In fact, the only sound to be heard where the pearls of sweat forming upon our chef’s brow, rolling down his face and splashing on the rubber mats. Alain and his entourage were seated at the best seats in the house overlooking 150-year-old olive trees and acres of organic gardens. Before we knew it, our chef was bounding down the line, taking steps so long it was as if he was gliding on water. Barking orders, he swooped in and began pillaging the most perfect bits of the kitchen crews prep. Every single table in the restaurant would be put on hold and remain waiting for the next 45 minutes as we focused on our dishes for Alain Ducasse.

I had moved up to the hot appetizers station only a few days earlier, but was now temporarily demoted to prepare Alains salad as the new salad girl stood off to the sidelines and watched, not even permitted to touch his food. I was instructed to put together the best baby salad greens we had in house, the best baby edible flowers, the best baby vegetables and put aside the herbal vinaigrette and have everything ready and waiting for when the chef told me to plate. I stood at rapt attention. “Cristina, plate it”, the chef hollered. Hands trembling, I reached for my vinaigrette and put the poppy-seed vinaigrette on my ever-so-perfect salad greens. “Huh”, I gasped. Deeply. My heart leapt into my throat. “Sh**, shi**, wrong vinaigrette! The chef is going to kill me!” (truth be told, he probably wouldn’t have noticed). I ran to the walk-in to grab more greens, came out and ran smack into the chef. "Cristina, why aren’t you ready?” he bellowed, his eyes piercing me like daggers.

“Chef, I… I… I…”.

“For Christ sake Cristina. When Alain Ducasse comes into the restaurant everything else STOPS”.

“Yes chef. But I… I…”, my knees were quaking.

“I TOLD YOU TO BE READY, WHY AREN’T YOU READY? Give me that”, he said, as he snatched the bowl of greens out of my hands. I followed him back to the salad station, “but chef I… I…”.

“You can’t even make a F****ing salad Cristina? What’s the matter with you?”

“but chef, I… “. WHACK! He slammed the metal bowl on the counter top, “now get this salad out and it had better be perfect”

“Yes chef”

By now my nose, fingertips and toes were beginning to go numb from hyperventilating. The server came and picked up the salad. The whole line was at a standstill awaiting the chefs commands. I retreated to the prep kitchen and sat in a corner and breathing heavily until I almost passed out, a stream of hot tears cascading down my cheeks, “I’ll never be a chef, I can’t even get a salad right. Oh God, LIFE IS TERRIBLE! I’M SUCH A FAILURE!”

“WHAT IS THIS?” she said once again. I was instantly snapped back to the present. I looked her in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t cut it all the way through”. “No Cristina, what is it?”. “Ohhhh that! It’s mesquite grilled, thinly sliced flank steak, rubbed with cumin, smoked paprika, black pepper, chilli powder and oregano. And that’s a salsa verde on the side. A little bit spicy, if you’d like to try.” “Mmmm, sounds dee-lish”, she said as she plunked the two pieces of steak on her plate and reached for two more. “Golly Cristina, what kind of mean people have you been working for that you’d think we’d be upset over one tiny piece of steak not being sliced all the way through?”. Oh thank god, because my life just passed before my eye …

That morning, I’d chased the crows off of the blueberry bushes just outside my bedroom door and was able to pick about a quarts worth. Then I spent the afternoon with two friends at Pond Hill Farm on M-119 (5 miles North of Harbor Springs, MI) picking raspberries. Pound Hill is an amazing little family owned farm offering all organic beef, lamb, pork and chicken as well as beautiful produce. They also allow you to pet and feed the baby animals (before you eat them!). Today was “pick your own” day so my frends and I wandered up and down the rows of raspberry bushes. “One for the container, two for me” was my motto as I ate my way through the patch. Even the two year old I was with had more raspberries in his container than me! What can I say though, raspberry picking is my weakness. I cherished my summers in my grandparent’s backyard in Oregon – picking raspberries and eating half before they even made it back to the kitchen…

It’s berry season here in Northern Michigan and I can’t imagine a better time of year! Mr. X had asked yesterday if I knew how to make a blueberry pie. Do I know how to make a blueberry pie? Of course! Never mind that I’d never done it before… After reading several recipes for blueberry pie, I decided on a hybrid of a few different recipes. At first I was tempted not to cook the blueberries before putting them into the pie, but every recipe called for at least some cooking of the berries. So, I went half way. With three pounds of berries, I cooked about one pound of them in a pot with a cup and a half of water. When they came to a simmer and the berries began to burst, I added a slurry of corn starch, plus some sugar and lemon juice and brought it all to a boil until it was nice and thick. I added some lemon zest and then gently folded the warm berry mixture into my remaining two pounds of fresh berries. I poured this into my prepared pie crust (unbaked – and yes, I made the crust) but rather than a lattice crust I made a topping of roasted, ground almonds, ap flour, sugar and butter (blended in the food processor until it just came together) and crumbled it on. I churned the raspberries into fresh raspberry and chocolate sorbet for a lactose intolerant guest at that nights dinner party.

After dinner, it was practical joke time again. Mr. X has been complaining that my desserts are making his waistline grow. But then, when I go out of town for a few days, I return and he says to me, “oh man, now I have to go back to eating healthy. I was really enjoying eating pizza and hotdogs while you were gone”. He and Mrs. X are both avid bikers and serious athletes (and they’ve gotten me REALLY into cycling as well). Neither of them has an inch of fat on their bodies, nor do they believe in dieting. So, I told Mr. X that he couldn’t have dessert until he got his butt onto his bike and peddled out to Legs Inn and back (about 30 miles away – a beautiful ride, I did it two days ago). So, when it was time for dessert, as generous pieces of warm pie heaped with whipped cream were served to each guest and Mr. X bounced in his chair like a hyper-active third grader awaiting his turn, I sent out a special plate just for him: a bite of pie the size of a pea, with a tiny dollop of whipped cream and one, lone blueberry.

“Better get on your bike and start peddling, boss”…

Wayward Blueberry Pie
Makes filling for two 9-inch pies

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

You will need 2 unbaked 9-inch pie crusts
(I did not supply a recipe for pie crust – do a search on the web, there are plenty out there!).

You will also need a food processor.

FILLING
3 pounds fresh blueberries (4 to 5 quarts, give or take)
1 cup sugar
1 cup water, plus 3 tablespoons (divided)
3 tablespoons cornstarch
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest

Measure 1 pound of blueberries into a medium sauce pan. To this, add 1 cup of water. Bring to a simmer, just until blueberries begin to burst and release their juices. Stir together cornstarch and 3 tablespoons water to make a slurry. While stirring berry mixture, add slurry, sugar and lemon juice and bring to a boil. Cook until thick (about 2 minutes). When berry mixture is thick, remove from heat and gently fold into fresh berries, adding lemon zest. Allow to cool before pouring into prepared pie crust.

ALMOND CRUMB TOPPING
12 oz. Almonds, toasted
2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups sugar
3/4 cup unsalted butter, cut into 1/2 inch cubes and chilled (or frozen)
pinch of salt

Place almonds in food processor and process until finely ground, add flour, butter, sugar and salt and process until topping just comes together. Topping should be a bit clumpy and moist, not powdery and dry. If it is too dry and not coming together, add more butter.

ASSEMBLY
Divide filling between two unbaked pie crusts. Crumble almond topping over filling and bake at 375 for 50 minutes, or until filling is bubbling, topping is well browned and crusts are done. Or, as a chef I worked with said to me once when I asked how long I should bake something, “until it’s done Cristina. Until it’s done.”

A beautiful thing...

Herbed Cream Puffs Filled with Smoked Whitefish Mousse

Vegetarian Sushi with Marinated Vegetables

Sesame Crusted Crab Cakes with Wasabi Aioli

Tuna Tartar on a Rice Cracker with Avocado Cream and Caviar

Mini Pita Sandwiches with Curried Chicken Salad and Water Cress

Deviled Eggs Piped into Veggie Cups and Garnished with Spanish White Anchovies, Capers and Cornichon

Cheeze Whiz on Ritz Crackers Garnished with Fresh Chives ala Mr. X

The fundraiser kicked off swimmingly, with donations reaching nearly a half-million dollars for new cancer screening equipment for the local hospital. A string quartet played softly in a corner underneath a floating staircase and next to a Buddha sculpture dating back several thousands of years. Servers bustled around the growing crowd with trays of champagne and filed out of the kitchen with platters of tuna tartar and caviar, crab cakes, smoked whitefish mousse and sushi.

My new boss (the male half) looking stoic and serious in pressed khakis and a gold-buttoned, blue blazer stood talking to a group of other stoic and serious looking men and having what looked like a very serious, deeply engrossing, ever so important conversation. Meanwhile, I prepared a special horsdeouvre platter just for him – Ritz Crackers with Cheese Whiz, on a green glass tray with a garnish of chopped chives and and an arrangement of fresh flowers as the center piece.

“Bring this straight to Mr. X”, I told the server and watched him as he breezed across the room, parting the crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea, making a B-line to my new boss. Mr. X reached blindly over to the tray, then looked at what he had in his hand and then at the tray and burst out laughing, “Cristina, this is perfect!” he shouted from across the room and let out a roar of laughter, grabbing the tray from the server and passing them to everyone around. Soon he was in the kitchen, group of Cheese Whiz mongers in tow and with the empty tray in his hand, “See? It’s empty! Everyone loves Cheese Whiz! Got any more?”. Then he and the others made themselves comfortable at the counter squirting fluorescent yellow, processed cheese "product" onto Ritz crackers and popping them into their mouths… ACK!

As unlikely as it may sound, my new bosses are actually really into food, the “Mrs.” half of the equation was formerly a professional restaurant cook herself! But the Mr. warned me shortly after I started that although he loves good food, he too loves his Cheese Whiz, and his Redi Whip (and the Redi Whip was a whole other joke that lead to there now being 18 cans of Redi-Whip in the damn refrigerator! Where am I supposed to put the REAL food?). I told him that his obsession with spray food was fine as long as I didn’t find him huffing the cans in the back pantry… And ever since then, I have been finding every way possible to tease him about it.

Last week, in celebration of my accepting the position with them, Mr. and Mrs. X took me to lunch at their country club. And as we sat in the shade of the bright yellow umbrellas, overlooking Lake Michigan, eating club sandwiches and drinking Arnold Palmers, I pulled from my purse a can of Cheese Whiz and a package of Ritz Crackers and handed them to my new boss, telling him, “here, in case you aren’t happy with your lunch.”, which sent the table into a fit of hysterics – his family thoroughly appreciated my chiding.

But the fun will not stop here… When that yacht is launched, dear Mr. X will be finding Cheese Whiz in every conceivable place on the yacht; his medicine cabinet, next to his pillow at night, in the Emergency Overboard Bag… And I know they’ll laugh – because that’s just the kind of people they are. They appreciate a good smart-ass, which is great because I can be an excellent one. Like I said, I have THE BEST JOB EVER. I have every kitchen toy conceivable, can cook whatever my heart desires, and my employers are the nicest, most fun employers anyone could have. HA! I’m so lucky! I knew it would all work out…

Ok, soon, I will get back to some real writing… I have had a ton of fun making a real bread starter with wild yeast, making an excellent soft-serve Mexican chocolate ice-cream, cooking for some great parties and shopping at some amazing local farmers markets. Oh, and overseeing the design and build of the yachts galley of course…

More to come. Much, much more to come…

It's official...

I have the BEST. JOB. EVER.

Before today, people just thought I had the best job ever. But now, I really do....

After eight years of pimping myself out to the gluttonous masses, I have FINALLY landed my dream job. And, I do mean DREAM JOB!

My trial period was supposed to last 2 weeks, but on the 3rd day my soon-to-be new boss came into the kitchen beaming like a ray of sunlight, gave me a big hug and said, “would you like to work for us? We’d just love to have you. We love your cooking, you have great energy, you’re so free spirited. We like having you around. What do you say?”.

And so, over a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, I said, “ok, but I need a month off every 4 months so that I can throw a backpack on and go trekking across the globe”. No problem. “And I need a sous-chef on the yacht”. No problem. “And I need to be paid well”. No problem. “And I need this whole list of kitchen equipment.” No problem. “But I have to go back to New York for a friends wedding”, No problem, the jet will take you. “you make it really hard to say no”.

I’ll be spending the remainder of the summer at their house on Lake Michigan – with my very own vegetable garden and the biggest, most abundant herb garden I’ve ever seen, much less had use of!

And when I ask for anything whether it be a car to get around in, a bike to go exploring, or a day off, it’s always “no problem". And when I wake in the morning, I go swimming in the 30 meter salt-water lap pool. And I can work on my menus sitting in the Japanese gardens outside the kitchen, among the ponds and a stone fountain and with a giant Buddha looking over my shoulder. And there are farms everywhere brimming with sweet Michigan cherry’s (which made a great compote for my lemon cheesecake), baby vegetables the size of my thumb nail, local organic beef, lamb and pork, smoked whitefish from the lake, and so on and so forth. And every person I have met in town that knows my new boss says, “oh, you’re very lucky. That’s a dream job. They're great people to work for.” And every person I’ve met that works for them says, “oh, you’re very lucky. That’s a dream job. They're great people to work for”.

My new bosses are very happy people, very creative and fun. Unassuming, and a bit eccentric, nice as can be, in that mid-western way – which is totally cool (I’ve completely underestimated the mid-west). If I had written a list of what my dream job would be, who the ideal people to work for would be – it could not have been any better than the people I am cooking for now. They know and love food, aren’t dieters, love to talk about food and are always happy to try something new.

In my first week we took a culinary trip around the world. I did a big Indian dinner one night with chicken in a curry-yoghurt sauce, halibut vindaloo, spicy green beans, fresh coriander chutney, fresh mango chutney, na’an bread and pappadamns. The next night I made fresh pasta and pesto with basil from their herb garden and the next night Mexican with a chorizo stuffed pork tenderloin (the chorizo is locally made) with tomatillo sauce and goat cheese stuffed chilli releano’s to start. Even their 3 year old grandson who is just the cutest thing in the world, came bounding down the steps while I cooked Indian food and said, “mmmm, something smells good!”. He also ate my fresh pasta, loaded with vegetables – which made mom proud.

So, life is good. Life is great actually. And when my feet are back on the ground I’ll get back into more food blogging.

Oh yeah, and theirs lots of talk of doing a circumnavigation of the globe once the yacht is launched. But really, the itinerary is just the icing on the cake.

Someone pinch me.