The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Two weeks have passed, but I’m still dreaming about Valentine’s Day. Gifts ran beyond an elaborate dinner, a 15-year-old Bordeaux and a night alone. My husband got a little romantic himself.

No, I did not receive perfume, jewelry, lingerie or chocolates. I didn’t get a “Get Out of Childcare Free” card (Dang!)

Mike gave me the new Gourmet Magazine cookbook.

Now, many wives or women might be offended at a Valentine’s Day gift of a cookbook, thinking it’s akin to receiving a toaster or, worse, a not-so-subtle hint. Not me, and Mike knows it.

“When they folded, you said you’d planned to spend your life with Gourmet Magazine,” he said as I eagerly opened the book.

At 1,040 pages, I may be able to do just that.

This doorstop of a book seems to cover it all. It doesn’t contain every recipe from every issue of Gourmet. Believe me, I checked for some of my “greatest hits,” such as the Opera Cake. I’m glad, though. That means I can still paw through my past issues, Luddite that I can be. But I know this volume will end up taking center stage on my kitchen reference shelf.

Once Lent ends, I must make the Clementine Glazed Duck. I don’t plan on resuming fully carnivorous ways, mainly because this meatless venture is going quite well for all involved, animals included. But flesh will be on the menu again.

When we start planting cool weather crops in the coming weeks, including sugar snap peas, Tuscan kale, mâche and other greens, I’ll start the never-ending process of dog-earing recipes.

When our tomatoes, squash and other goodies come in this summer, there are 78 pages of just “Vegetables,” plus an entire chapter devoted to grains and beans. Plus, a 25-page chapter of relishes, chutneys, pickles and preserves for the bumper crops, of course.

Come fall when we harvest our potatoes, parsnips, celery root and winter squashes for storage, there are 20 winters’ worth of soups, in addition to both main dishes and sides full of winter and root vegetables.

Are you kidding? My next big dinner could simply come from the 80-page Hors d’oeuvres and 1st Courses section alone: hot and cold appetizers, tapas, A to Z nibbles for a taste of everything. Add to that 50 pages of salads, and I’m set. There are things in here that I didn’t even know you could do with a wheel of Camembert!

Desserts begin on page 660, starting with cookies, and don’t end until near page 900.

This book is great! Who needs lingerie as a gift?

Sure, La Perla has its place. But as far as I’m concerned, Mike could’ve duct-taped a wooden spoon to the cover and I would’ve been even more thrilled. Plus, the book is so clean and neat and tight and shiny!

I can’t wait to get it completely spattered with food.

Opera Cake

Quail and Cornish game hens be damned! The hit of the night was dessert.

The presentation of the glistening little birds ringing a large platter was impressive with additional walnut stuffing mounded in the center. The fruit and wine reduction sauce was velvety smooth. Since fig balsamic vinegar went into the sauce, I made a fig balsamic vinaigrette for the salad, and gave the option of adding the toasted walnuts and chevre, which were out for appetizers. I’m glad I was inspired to change at the last minute. The flavors really dovetailed all around, from soup to nuts – well, from appetizers to the repeated use of the walnuts.

But in the end, it was the Opera Cake.

“Elise, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten here,” my father-in-law gushed, adding that anything he’s “had at Latour doesn’t even compare.” [A restaurant in Bergen County]

I delivered two slices of the cake on Monday morning to my best friend, who at the last minute could not attend. I felt like the Easter bunny, hopping up to her back door and hanging the gift bag on the doorknob early in the morning. Once she found the surprise, she called immediately, confessed that both pieces were gone, and that she’d be “out of commission for the next two hours” on her Wii Fit.

It is a beautiful and tasty cake to say the least, with a 100+ year history. But honestly, it looks a lot harder to make than it is. Sure, there are a number of components, but if you break them down empirically, it’s Pastry 101 (maybe Pastry 201): sponge cake, simple syrup, icing, melted chocolate.

My five-year-old daughter was there every step of the way with a very active hand, and it came out great.

Here is a link to the recipe from Gourmet Magazine, September, 2004 issue. Good luck, and enjoy!

An Old Favorite for An Early Christmas

They say the holidays come earlier and earlier each year. We had our first Christmas of the season two days early, on Wednesday.

A special friend and I wanted our own Christmas to exchange gifts and had theoretically planned it pretty much since Halloween. I figured it would be a short quiet time together, maybe at home, over dinner in a restaurant, or at our favorite bar if need be. It’s not always easy for either of us to steal time away from home. But she is near and dear, as is every moment together.

In the end, she decided to make a full turkey dinner with trimmings and invite both me and my daughter over to celebrate with her family (my husband was working). Dessert? Quite a spread of cookies, courtesy of you know who.

I took such great pleasure in putting together these treats and chose a favorite green Depression glass dish to use. The flavors, the colors, the composition – I’m grinning ear to ear just thinking about it and the wide eyes that greeted the cookies once unveiled. She knows I like to bake and create and has tasted the fruits of my labor before, both savory and sweet. But never did she expect the variety or the surprise of one of her favorites: the tri-colored Italian cookies. They are my favorite cookie as well.

Served with a little Asti (one of her favorite drinks, another surprise I brought), the cookies were the perfect accompaniment nibble by nibble to our gift giving, creating one of the warmest, sweetest Christmases in recent memory.

This is the most wonderful time of the year.


7-Layer Italian Cookies
Gourmet Magazine, December 2005
4 large eggs, separated
1 cup sugar
1 (8-oz) can almond paste
2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 cups) unsalted butter, softened
1 teaspoon almond extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
25 drops red food coloring
25 drops green food coloring
1 (12-oz) jar apricot preserves, heated and strained {you don’t need this much)
7 oz fine-quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped (best, darkest you can find; use extra if desired)

Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Butter a 13- by 9-inch baking pan and line bottom with wax paper, leaving a 2-inch overhang on 2 ends, then butter paper.
Beat whites in mixer fitted with whisk attachment at medium-high speed until they just hold stiff peaks. Add 1/4 cup sugar a little at a time, beating at high speed until whites hold stiff, slightly glossy peaks. Transfer to another bowl.

Switch to paddle attachment, then beat together almond paste and remaining 3/4 cup sugar until well blended, about 3 minutes. Add butter and beat until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add yolks and almond extract and beat until combined well, about 2 minutes. Reduce speed to low, then add flour and salt and mix until just combined. Fold half of egg white mixture into almond mixture to lighten, then fold in remaining whites gently but thoroughly.

Divide batter among 3 bowls. Stir red food coloring into one and green food coloring into another, leaving the third batch plain. Set white batter aside. Chill green batter, covered. Pour red batter into prepared pan and spread evenly with offset spatula (layer will be about 1/4 inch thick).
Bake red layer 8 to 10 minutes, until just set. (It is important to undercook.)

Using paper overhang, transfer layer to a rack to cool, about 15 minutes. Clean pan, then line with wax paper and butter paper in same manner as above. Bake white layer in prepared pan until just set. As white layer bakes, bring green batter to room temperature. Transfer white layer to a rack. Prepare pan as above, then bake green layer in same manner as before. Transfer to a rack to cool.

When all layers are cool, invert green onto a wax-paper-lined large baking sheet. Discard paper from layer and spread with half of preserves. Invert white on top of green layer, discarding paper. Spread with remaining preserves. Invert red layer on top of white layer and discard wax paper.

Cover with plastic wrap and weight with a large baking pan. Chill at least 8 hours.
Remove weight and plastic wrap. Bring layers to room temperature. Melt chocolate in a double boiler or a metal bowl set over a saucepan of barely simmering water, stirring until smooth. Remove from heat. Keep chocolate over water.

Trim edges of assembled layers with a long serrated knife. Quickly spread half of chocolate in a thin layer on top of cake. Chill, uncovered, until chocolate is firm, about 15 minutes. Cover with another sheet of wax paper and place another baking sheet on top, then invert cake onto sheet and remove paper. Quickly spread with remaining chocolate. Chill until firm, about 30 minutes.

Cut lengthwise into 4 strips. Cut strips crosswise into 3/4-inch-wide cookies.

R.I.P. Gourmet

Say it ain’t so.

After close to 70 years in circulation, Gourmet Magazine is slated to cease publication at the end of the year.

Never mind the fact that I’m paid up through the year 2013. I feel I came in late to the game as it is: My subscription kicked in with the November, 2003 issue. I was planning on my own 70 years with it.

My husband and I bought our first house in 2002. I had always tried to be somewhat inventive and adventurous in the kitchen – in my own little somewhat-knowledgeable way. I would find things at the farmer’s market or on sale at the grocery store and figure out what to do with them. I came up with a few of my husband’s favorites along the way, but believe me, not all were winners. Mike has always said that I’m a very intuitive cook. I just like the process of figuring it all out. When I started buying the occasional newsstand copy of Gourmet that year, my eyes opened up to so much more. So did our palates. Mike bought the subscription for me. I’ve never looked back.

Although with Gourmet, you always “look back.” I still have every issue. I still use them over and over again. The Rolodex in my brain still somehow knows where each recipe, spice combination, idea and variation I’ve created is in each back issue. I hoped to line an entire room with my Gourmets over the course of a lifetime. Should I be buried in a mausoleum, I would request in my will that my Gourmets accompany me. You’re never done with them.

In the grand scheme of things, I’ve barely begun. But the memories are there.

During Christmas of 2005, my daughter was fourteen months old, not fully verbal and learning to walk, still holding onto furniture to get around a room. While gripping my living room coffee table, she happened upon the December, 2005 issue of Gourmet, which featured a plethora of cookies on the cover – the December issue always delectably does. She honed in on the black and white cookies, her favorite since solid food, looked up at me, and let out an “Mmmm, Mmmm.” “Oh, yes, they look good,” I said. She looked up at me again, furrowed her brow and let out another set of “Mmmms,” her eyes locked on mine. “Yes, little one, the cookies are good,” I cooed to assuage her.

My daughter was adamant. She let go of the coffee table, held the magazine over her head with the front cover facing me, and let out a loud, guttural final “MMMMMM” before I said, “Alright, alright, we’ll make the black and whites!” Finally satisfied, she put down the magazine, never held a piece of furniture after that, then walked on her own out of the room. And yes, I did make the cookies.


When my April, 2006 issue arrived (“Italian Regional Cooking”), I devoured it, cover to cover. Then I immediately hit my local newsstand to pickup a second issue. I knew the one that came in the mail would become completely spattered with food, pages stuck together and unusable by the end of the month. It was. I like to think I did that issue proud.

And Thanksgiving has never been so “same” in my family since the year my mother put me in charge of the pumpkin pie. I never really eat pumpkin pie. I may pick at the filling, but never touch the crust. I agreed to bring it, saying, “Sure, I’ll do the pumpkin.” I never said the word “pie,” not even once in the weeks leading up when she’d call to double check that I was bringing it.

I made a pumpkin flan from the November, 2005 issue. My mom hollered at me the second she saw it as I walked through the door (I’m in my 40’s). The crowd was skeptical. My cousins tossed a few jokes in, such as “Is what they have in Spain on Thanksgiving?” and the like (Spain, flan, I get it. Hardy har har.) But Holy Mackerel: It was Delicious, with a capital D. The toasted pepitas, a garnish, nearly didn’t make it through the day once my dad and Uncle Vic discovered them! Cheers and cries for encores closed out that holiday evening. A new tradition was born.

I’m just not ready to say “Good bye” to Gourmet. Neither is my daughter.

Now five, she pretty much hijacks each issue from my hands after it arrives to select recipes, sometimes from the pictures, sometimes from the voluminous recipe pages. “We should totally make this,” is her favorite come-on.

She has been reading since the age of three – thanks in part, I’m sure, to following recipes together. It makes our adventures in cooking that much easier as she dashes off ingredients, measurements and steps to me. Her little hands are adept at measuring, too, and she can fold even the most delicate ingredients into a soufflé. She does most of the stirring, sifting and counterwork, while I tend to more dangerous areas, like a hot stove or oven.

And it’s not even a matter of using the recipes word for word, ingredient for ingredient. I’ll remember back to a treatment, technique, flavor combination, marinade or the like and translate it to the ingredients we have. Make a recipe once, and it’s yours forever, from new variations on old favorites (braised duck legs with sautéed duck breasts, “Paris on a Budget” September ’08) to attempting a traditional Russian Orthodox Easter dish (Paskha cheese, April ’04) to bring to a family friend’s celebration as a surprise. I’m Italian-Catholic. They were impressed, gracious and flattered that I’d attempt the Paskha, a three-day recipe. I was honored to make it. Thank you, Gourmet.

Even so, I seem always to be on a backlog.

I still haven’t gone through all of the tapas from January ’05. I constantly skim that issue every time I host a dinner – either for an appetizer I’ve made, or for a new one to complement the dinner itself. Heck, my October issue just arrived and I haven’t finished the key recipes on all those dog-eared pages of September.

Sadly, I suppose I’ll have time to catch up on all of them after my last issue comes.

Something to Warm You to the Core

I made an appetizer last night for a dinner we attended that would warm you to the core. A necessary action, considering the amount of snow we’ve had this month. I came across the recipe for “Braised Cannellini Beans with Garlic, Marjoram and Oregano” on page 31 of this month’s Gourmet, and it reminded me completely of a bean dish that I make with fresh rosemary. I had everything I needed on hand, including some additional items to serve with it.

Actually, the recipe was pretty much the same thing I make except that it called for fresh marjoram and dried oregano. Now, I’m not a dried oregano person – fresh is good, dry is bitter and harsh to me. But I did it "The Gourmet Way" using two 15-oz cans of Cannellini beans, about ¼ cup of their liquid and chicken stock to make up the difference in liquid called for in the recipe. I even went out to the two spots in my backyard where my herbs grow to obtain the marjoram. I had to try both spots, because upon clearing the snow in the first area where the bigger specimens grow, I was reminded that, “Oh, yeah … we’ve had two sleet and ice storms recently.” I couldn’t scratch or scrape through the layers of ice barehanded. Believe me, I tried. Squirrels perched atop the side fence cackled at me. And yes, I went out without a hat, coat or gloves because A) I thought it would be a fast trip, and B) I was just plain excited at the prospect of even just a little greenery picked fresh from the garden. Fortunately, the second, more sheltered spot yielded the little leaves I needed.

The results were herbaceous and subtle, comforting and soothing. I liked it more, at least in a different way, than my rosemary beans, which if not watched and tested can become piney. I served the warm beans over thinly sliced, toasted Italian bread brushed with garlic olive oil. I also put a trio of condiments on the side: thinly sliced plum tomatoes and/or roasted red peppers to place on the toasts before the beans, and shavings of Romano cheese to top the beans. Any combination thereof worked well. It all went, right down to the last shard of Romano. And I would make it again.