The Baker On The Patio With A Knife

Gather 'round, gentle readers, for I have an interesting story to tell.

For those too young to remember the board game Clue, the premise was that at the beginning of the game, someone was found murdered. It then became the goal of the rest of the game to figure out who the murderer was, what room it happened in, and what lethal method of dispatching was used on the victim. In fact, it became such a popular game that Hollywood made a movie out of it ... with several endings. It turned out that the movie wasn't as popular at the time as the board game, but I rather enjoyed the comedic aspects of it. But I digress.

I write this entry today as a combination of suspense, just a touch of horror, and of course a teachable moment where we can all learn one of those life lessons about which we've heard so many positive things. Names were originally withheld to protect the guilty, but the guilty felt that the story had more impact with the names intact. Of course, the point of my sordid little tale is not to shame, but to entertain and to warn.

I'd like to say it was a dark and stormy night. But, it wasn't. It was a pleasant and mild sunny day, with a light breeze gently shaking the tops of the trees as small downdrafts of air caressed the slightly sun-bleached red tufts of hair still remaining on my head. I had decided to dress very casually for the afternoon party, a barbecue to which I had been invited some three or four weeks earlier. Having stepped out of the shower, I looked over my clothing selection and opted for a pair of Dockers that had seen better days and a green t-shirt that while months old, had never been worn and was still crisp and new.

Having baked off a batch of focaccia earlier in the day, I grabbed the pan of cooling bread, the smell of thyme and caramelized onions still tickling my nose as I passed my head close to the surface and inhaling deeply. "This," I surmised, "will be a perfect course for the Bread Guy to bring."

Lest you think me nuts so early in the story for referring to myself in the third person, I have developed a sort of following for bringing really tasty breads to my friends' parties. And while not specifically requested to bring something today, I knew that my continued reputation depended on me arriving with something carb-laden and fabulous; I had a sneaking suspicion that this might just fit the bill. Lowering the pan away from my face, I grabbed my keys, wallet and cellphone and headed out the door.

The drive over to the party was short, but lovely. The lowered driver's and passenger's side windows allowed a cross breeze to cool both me and the bread. I arrived at my destination ten minutes before the scheduled beginning of the event and found an appropriate spot to park on the grass next to the stone driveway, protected from the sun under the auspices of a large leafy tree. I grabbed my panned bread and my knife roll* which contained my favorite bread knife, a razor sharp serrated number from my post-college days when I let a friend of mine convince me that her brother was selling these really great knife sets and I would be the best friend ever if I bought a set myself. Of course, the easy payment plan helped convince me, too. While I've replaced every other knife from that original set, the bread knife remains to this day one of my most useful utensils for slicing hard, crusty breads; it is without equal.

I walked around to the rear of the entrance to find the host of the party, Tony, attending to the barbecue portion of today's festivities. I walked up to the patio and slid open the rear door to the house and proceeded to walk through the dining room to the kitchen where I found our hostess, Jane, and a mutual friend, Nancy, who happened to be still celebrating her birthday from the previous week. Jane, being known for her elaborate celebrations, was putting on the finishing touches to Nancy's multi-layer cake, replete with chocolate frosting, coconut shavings, hand placed almonds and six perfectly inserted candles along with a lone sparkler towering high above the other waxy rods.

"It's my favorite," Nancy gleefully exclaimed. "It's like a Mounds candy bar, but in cake form."

I have to admit, it certainly looked good. It also looked big, too. Then again, Jane was feeding a crowd today, so a cake for twenty-five guests wasn't something that stood out as unusual. Within moments, she looked up from her frosting and assembling duties and noticed my stainless steel pan of goodness.

"What have you brought us today, Tom?"

Beaming with accomplishment, I replied. "This," my chest puffing out just a little bit further than normal, "is a caramelized onion and thyme focaccia bread that I baked off this morning."

"I can't wait to try it! Why don't you cut it up and place it out on the table on the patio with the rest of the appetizers?"

I left Jane to her task at hand and grabbed the pan and my knife roll and headed out the door to the patio, dutifully following her admonition to not let the dog escape. Retrieving my favorite bread knife, I proceeded to cut the half sheet into rectangles, narrow on one end for easy grabbing and long on the other to allow each guest several bites of this hopefully tasty treat. After carefully sawing my way through the entire loaf, I returned to the kitchen and washed off my knife before sheathing it in its protective cover, returning it to the knife roll and finally returning the entire set back to my car, its mission now accomplished.

As guests began arriving, introductions were made, additional dishes were placed on the appetizer table on the patio and everyone began the pre-dinner noshing. While I certainly didn't try and fish for any compliments on the bread, I received quite a few and I cheered just a little bit using my inside voice for every one I garnered. Within just a short period of time, the entire tray was empty and I happily took it inside to clean it up before returning it, too, to my car, and started looking forward to having dinner.

Shortly after, the barbecued meats were declared "done" and the rest of the dinner spread was placed along a series of tables at the back of the yard. Famished from my lack of breakfast and my self-control during the appetizer portion of today's event, I got in line at the back of the queue and hungrily waited my turn to fill up my plate. Dinner, as was expected, was completely delicious and besides a pork sandwich that had been gussied up with a little coleslaw on top to give it a more North Carolinian feel to it, I had my fill of corn on the cob, a delicious pesto pasta salad and an unusually mild sausage and sauerkraut casserole. The dinner portion went off without a hitch and was curiously quiet, although I suspect that was more a compliment to the cooks this evening than the lack of camaraderie.

Where things begin to turn interesting was when dinner had more or less come to a close and Jane, who happened to be sitting next to me on the patio, turned to me and said, "Well, I guess it's time for the birthday cake." Remembering how large the cake looked when I saw it on my arrival, I asked her if she would like some help. She considered for only a moment before she replied, "Yes, I think that would be a good idea."

I followed her through the patio door once more, again making sure that the dog remained inside. Once in the kitchen, I picked up the cardboard cake round upon which the large two-tiered cake rested. I'm glad I had offered to help; this thing must've weighed five or six pounds. Jane, anticipating the cake cutting ceremony about to ensue, grabbed a large chefs knife and a pack of matches for the candles. As we walked to the patio door, Jane said to me, "Okay, when we get to the door, I'll slide it open and then keep the dog distracted. You walk through the door and I'll follow behind." Sounded reasonable enough to me.

As we got to the door, she slid the door open, but as I stepped from the inside to the out, I heard her shriek, "Oh my God! Are you okay?"

I turned around to see Jane standing on the inside of the door, chefs knife pointing away from her body and towards me, a look of terror on her face.

"I almost stabbed you!" she continued. Funny, I hadn't felt anything. I figured that she might just be playing toward the overly dramatic. Honestly, I hadn't felt anything before and I still didn't feel anything now.

I somewhat nervously laughed and said, "No, no, I'm fine." And then a moment later, I added, "Besides, if you had stabbed me, don't think I'd be making any more bread for you in the future." As she followed me through the patio door, I quickly mentioned, "Why don't you go ahead and walk in front of me to the table?"

Her fears now somewhat allayed, we continued with the birthday ritual for Nancy, first attempting to light the candles in the slight breeze, followed by the incantation of "Happy Birthday" and finally the cutting of the cake and opening of gifts. In all, other than the slight hysterics after my alleged stabbing, it was a really great party. As the evening wore on, I gathered myself, said my good-byes and made my way home.

When I got home, I decided to change clothes for bed. I pulled on a pair of shorts and considered using the green t-shirt I had worn during the day for my weekly sleeping shirt, the one I wear for the week and then wash on the weekends. As I pulled the shirt off the curtain rod on which I had placed it while getting undressed, I noticed several spots on the back of the shirt where light was now shining through. Even more strangely, the small holes lined up in a straight line.

"No! It couldn't be," I thought to myself.

I put the t-shirt back on only to come to the realization that the holes in the brand new shirt were exactly in the same spot where Jane had been standing earlier in the day with the chefs knife as I stepped through that patio door.

I quickly lifted my shirt to check my skin in the same area for any trace of redness or epidermal slicing or puncture wounds. There were none. I realized at that moment that had I been a centimeter closer to Jane, things might have been different. I also realized that had my t-shirt been worn down through numerous wearings and washings, the strained fabric might not have been strong enough to protect my back from the sharp knife. To say the least, the realization I came to at that very moment was quite sobering.

"Holy crap!" I uttered aloud in my bathroom. "Jane Snow almost stabbed me!"

As two people who have been in "the food industry," Jane and I both made a mistake today. She, of course, should have kept the knife at her side with the blade pointing down. If the dog was going to be an issue, we should have had a third person running interference. And I, knowing that she would not purposely have hurt me, should never have volunteered to walk in front of someone with a sharp knife, even if it was properly pointed downward. I realize that the evening could've gone an entirely different way had any of the conditions been slightly different.

I think I need to write the Hanes people and thank them profusely for the strength of their t-shirt fabric. And then buy stock in the company.

I suppose it goes without saying that its always best to avoid being stabbed. That being said, if it had to be anyone, at least it was longstanding Akron food icon, Jane Snow. I wonder if my epitaph would've said as much?

* Gentle reader, remind me someday to tell you what the phrase "knife roll" sounds like to a French Canadian border guard whose grasp of English was somewhat tentative at best and had just asked me if I had any weapons to declare.

eGullet Heartland Gathering: The Main Event

[Ed. Note: For those visiting my blog for the first time coming from the Akron Beacon Journal article that Lisa Abraham wrote and published today, welcome! You are invited to come in, take your time and look around, and get comfy while reading about my adventures in food. All constructive feedback is welcome here, either in the comments area of each blog entry or in an email to me directly by clicking here. While I appreciate that not everyone will like my writing style or my take on food, I wanted to thank you in advance for taking the time to check out my little dog and pony show.

And for my regular readers, thank you for coming back time and again. Interacting with you is what makes writing this blog lots of fun!]

So the day for the main event has finally arrived: Saturday's dinner! I have to say that this has been the one day I've most looked forward to every year since I started attending these Heartland Gathering weekends. What started out with me knowing just a handful of on-line screennames and avatars on the eGullet forums has genuinely developed into real, honest to goodness personal relationships that I've come to value both on-line and off.

As has been my tradition since I started attending this dinner, this year I was to provide bread for the afternoon noshing as well as for the dinner proper. Fortunately, as opposed to last year, I had access to the kitchen at the common room of the cohousing complex where the dinner was to be hosted. That being said, because both breads I was planning on making required a poolish, or starter, when I got home from the previous night's meal at Grange Kitchen and Bar, I still needed to take a limited amount of bread equipment and ingredients to my hotel room in order to mix up two batches of the pre-ferment. I then parked both containers in the warmest part of my hotel room, the bathroom, and turned on the heat lamp for about thirty minutes to get them started. When I checked them the next morning, they were healthy and happy and I packed everything up and headed to the co-housing complex.

While the cooking would last well into the evening, my portion of the effort would start at around 8:00 am. I was intending to do two batches of French style breads and two half-sheet pans of Italian focaccia topped with a caramelized onion and reduced balsamic vinegar with fresh thyme topping. Fortunately, another eGulleter, Alex, who happened to be staying in the common house, was there to greet me and help me get started. While I started my mise en place for my first and second batches of French bread, he began the time consuming process of slicing and then caramelizing four absolutely huge Walla Walla sweet onions I had purchased the night before.

While I have previously published the recipe for my focaccia, the French bread recipe I used today was just a slight deviation from the classic formula that is still used today. Here is the classic:

Classic French Bread
1000 grams flour
600 grams water
20 grams salt
20 grams fresh cake yeast

My Tweaked French Bread
1000 grams flour
700 grams water
20 grams salt
20 grams fresh cake yeast

Why the change? The extra water gives the finished bread a lightness to it. When you cut into the bread, you can see all the irregular holes that fill the crumb. While the classic works just fine, the holes in the crumb are a bit more evenly spaced. Both taste great, but my version gives you the right artisan feel to it as well. The downside is that the extra 100 grams of water makes the dough just a bit more of a pain to work with on the table when folding and shaping. If you are just starting out, gentle reader, go with the classic recipe. Gradually add additional water each time you make the dough until you reach a level of hydration that is comfortable for you.

While this post wasn't designed to be a tutorial on how to make the breads, I thought it would be good to get this part out of the way before moving on to the dinner so that you could see my contribution to today's activities. Which, with this picture of my almost finished breads (missing the second focaccia that was still in the oven), should give you an idea:


Here was a shot of some of the French loaves cut up and sitting out on the table to be matched with another guest's homemade charcuterie:


While many Americans would think that the crust was too dark, to me it was baked to that perfect point where all of the liberated sugars from the flour had caramelized to a dark reddish, golden brown hue, the crust was chewy, and the crumb had just the slightest give when pulled apart. For a bread with only four ingredients, this recipe really delivered and had simply marvelously complex flavors.

The other bread that I did for today was the focaccia with balsamic caramelized onions and fresh thyme. Here was a side shot of a piece of that bread on my plate for the first course of our meal tonight:


This was another winner (again, notice the open hole structure) and between both breads, whatever was left over from dinner quickly disappeared into take home baggies. When I returned to my bread station to finish divvying up the remainders, I found that I didn't need to do anything because the uncut loaves had just magically disappeared. While I received many in-person compliments during the course of the day, seeing a completely empty cutting board was the best compliment I could've received. Thanks again to Alex and Prasantrin for helping me out today.

Now that you've seen my contribution to dinner, let's take a look at the pre-dinner activities. One of the other guests brought four different kind of homemade dried sausages (aka the charcuterie I mentioned above). He had made them months in advance and then simply frozen them until he needed them. Having been vacuum packed in heavy plastic bags and gently brought back to life in the refrigerator, each presented its own unique flavor and texture.


Here we have pepperoni, sopressata, finocchiona, and lombardia. To me, the true revelation was the humble pepperoni. While a simple combination of pork and a ton of paprika, this was unlike any other pepperoni I have ever had. When I asked the progenitor of the sausage how it was on pizza, his eye twinkled just a little bit and he said, "Unbelievable." I bet. Also visible in the picture above was some smoked Pacific salmon that another member from the west coast had brought, too.

After spending the afternoon casually cooking, noshing, and generally having a good time, it was finally time to get down to business: a six course, plated dinner of today's culinary efforts by six different teams of people.

The first course was a chilled poached Michigan shrimp with tomato and corn salad:


This was the perfect way to start our meal. The Michigan shrimp had been poached in a lobster and shrimp stock and then chilled. The salad consisted of corn, multi-hued grape tomatoes, cucumber, red onion and was dressed in a light vinaigrette containing lime juice and rice wine vinegar. The green "sauce" on the bottom of the plate was actually a fresh basil oil made from the basil leaves plucked right outside the front doors of the common room. This was quite tasty and the portion size was perfect for this type of meal.

The second course was a play on the famous dish Bison and Beets from the Alinea At Home cookbook. As there were several vegetarians at tonight's dinner, instead of making a meat course and vegetarian option, another participant decided to just go with an all vegetarian dish. Here was her homage to Chef Grant Achatz's original dish:


This was a sous vide beet on top of a fennel puree accompanied by pickled blueberries, a freeze-dried blueberry and dehydrated beet crumble, and a toasted Spanish cheese wedge. While I have never had the original dish at Alinea, I can tell you that the level of dedication in order to pull something like this off was quite remarkable. The dish, as much art for the eye as for the mouth, combined many different flavors and textures to make it sort of a "Choose Your Own Adventure" type of course. While this type of cooking isn't for everyone, I definitely found it interesting and playful (as well as tasty).

Our third course tonight was a playful reinterpretation of a popular Portuguese and Brazilian soup, caldo verde:


This was a soup shooter containing a potato and kale soup that had been topped with a chorizo foam. Keeping the vegetarians in mind, the soup had been made with homemade vegetable stock and an alternate "foam" was used to top the non-meat shooters. Personally, I loved the chorizo foam. It was spicy and creamy, but not overbearingly so. The soup itself was luxuriously smooth, warm, and soul-satisfyingly good. You could really taste the kale and the potato with each sip.

In addition to doing the breads for today, I had agreed to help out long-time friend and fellow foodie, Edsel, with his course tonight, hake en papillote. He had originally wanted to do a meat course, but when someone else stepped up and picked grilled lamb, Edsel saw the opportunity to do something wonderfully light. He picked up about five and a half pounds of hake, a sustainable white fish, and between a small group of us, we prepared the vegetables that went inside, portioned the fish, and wrapped it all up in these cute little parchment pouches:


After baking for roughly twenty minutes, we plated the pouches, cut a slit into the parchment to facilitate eating, and distributed them to the guests. Here was a shot of my pouch, completely torn open:


The fish was exquisite (and not just because I had a hand in making them). It was moist, tender, and perfectly seasoned. The fish had been topped with a combination of red dragon carrot coins, batons of zucchini, two different types of oyster mushrooms, and sliced shallots. The vegetable medley had been gently sweated in olive oil and then dressed in a vinaigrette of sherry vinegar, olive oil, a scant touch of toasted sesame seed oil, salt and pepper. While I knew that there were still more courses to come, because a few extra packages remained after serving this course, I had a second helping; it was simply that good. Bravo, Edsel!

Our fifth course tonight was to be a playful effort by another attendee to showcase some locally caught rabbit in two ways:


On the left side of the plate was a rabbit confit that had been tossed with some grainy mustard and cream and homemade fettuccine noodles and topped with some micro-greens. To the right was a pan-seared tenderloin of rabbit poached atop some lightly pickled cucumbers and onions, drizzled with just a light honey sauce and finished with a small piece of lemon cucumber. Another compliment to portion size must go to the chef of this course, as it could've easily become overwhelming.

The flavor of each component was separate, but at the same time the common element, the rabbit, unified both flavors together nicely on the plate. While rabbit isn't something I have very often, both elements were cooked quite well and plated nicely. I especially liked the acidity that the quick pickled vegetables brought to the pan-seared rabbit loin and the honey sauce added just an ever-so-slight sweetness to the dish that didn't interfere with its savoriness.

Our sixth, and final savory course for the evening was a joint effort between Team Lamb and Team Lebanon:


To the left was a perfectly marinated and grilled leg of lamb and to the right was a wonderful Fattoush that had been prepared by Team Lebanon, Chef Crash and his wife. The lamb was marinated in fresh garlic, rosemary, and some olive oil and sat in the marinade for most of the afternoon. Then, at the last minute, it was cooked on an outdoor gas grill. I was worried that it might be too well done, but as you can see from the picture above, it was cooked to a textbook medium-rare.

The Fattoush was a nice contrast to the lamb as the sour element that the sumac brought to the plate helped cut through the fattiness of the lamb. The toasted pita chips gave the salad a nice texture contrast and overall, while I haven't had the opportunity to enjoy this dish in the past, I think it will be on my "to taste" list the next time I stop in for Lebanese food at my local Cleveland, Akron, or Canton eateries.

While there had been six savory courses to tonight's meal, what people easily forget is that there's always the hidden seventh course, DESSERT! And tonight's participants delivered mightily in that department. While I certainly didn't (and honestly couldn't) taste everything that people brought, I did take pictures of most of it and at the very least, I will tell you what eager eGulleters brought for the sweet end to our amazing meal.

First up were some chocolate cupcakes that had been frosted and decorated with actual edible flowers:


Next up was some homemade baklava that I was fortunate enough to taste:


Adorned with just a little bit of crushed pistachio on each triangle, these were truly delicious. It was sweet without being cloying and the texture of the nuts, phyllo, and honey syrup made this a decadent way to end my meal today.

Next up were some liquor filled truffles and chocolate bark:


And a Four Berry Pie from the Achatz Baking Company as well as some homemade black currant pate de fruit:


Another Lebanese treat that was prepared by two of the guests was the K'nafeh B'jibin:


Made from semolina, a soft Lebanese cheese, and doused in a simple syrup containing both rose and orange blossom water, this was an unusual (to this American anyway) but delicious treat that I was delighted to have a chance to try.

Besides the entire tray of fresh baklava, a smaller pan of Detroit's finest also showed up:


Finally, the same guest responsible for the chocolates and pate de fruit also made a creme Chiboust:


This was a pastry cream that had been lightened with fresh whipped cream, spread out onto foil and then frozen. This allowed the dessert to be cut into squares, placed atop fresh raspberries, sprinkled with a little bit of sugar and then bruleed until the tops were crunchy and brown. Unfortunately, I didn't have any more room in my stomach so I never got to try this.

Our meal now complete, everyone went from cooking, plating, and eating mode to clean-up mode. After cleaning up my bread station and repacking my car with all of my equipment, I was off to return to my hotel room, much more full and weary than when I arrived this morning. Even with me being tired and a little sore, I still had a blast today and would do it again every day without question. While we ended up with roughly thirty guests to feed tonight, I would encourage you to try this on a much more scaled down level. Visit the market in the morning, cook with your family and friends in the afternoon, and just have a great time being around one another the entire day. Sharing a meal with my friends today was just as important to me as cooking the food and I encourage you to do the same.

Rosh Hashanah Part II

In my previous entry on Rosh Hashanah, I spent a considerable amount of time talking about the pre-dinner festivities at Nancy and Bob's house. Arriving about ten minutes early with my aunt, I was able to take numerous photographs of the gorgeous table setting and some of the foods that had already been placed out for the first of many courses. While I enjoyed talking about the foods and symbolism regarding certain dishes, celebrating Rosh Hashanah by eating our way through it was ultimately more satisfying.

Going into tonight's dinner, what was really piquing my curiosity was the amount of ceremony involved with celebrating Rosh Hashanah. Having been to several of Nancy and Bob's Passover Seders in the past, I knew that there was a lengthier ceremony involved in celebrating that holiday. For Rosh Hashanah, however, it turned out that there was considerably less ceremony. After having lit the candles,


Nancy gave three blessings. The first was a blessing over the candles:

"Blessed are you O Eternal our God, who has commanded us to light the festival lights."

The second, a blessing over the bread:

"Blessed are you O Eternal our God, who brings forth bread from the Earth."

The third, a blessing over the wine (also known as Kiddush):

"Blessed are you O Eternal our God, who gives us the fruit of the vine."

With blessings pronounced, we were told to start our meal by dipping Honey Crisp apples into the ramekins of honey before eating them:


Apples and honey are both used symbolically to indicate the wish for a sweet year. While the apple was already sweet on its own, it also had just a bit of acidity to it that balanced very well with the honey. After we finished our apple slices, everything on the table was open for consumption.

This year Linda bought two loaves of challah, one plain and one golden raisin, from On The Rise Bakery. Here was a shot of the golden raisin version:


The bread was a wonderful pale yellow color from all of the egg yolks it contained and the golden raisin version had a lovely mild sweetness to it. I ate the golden raisin challah by itself, but decided to smear a bit of Linda's chopped liver pate onto the plain challah:


This wonderful chicken liver pate was unctuous and fatty and at the same time had a lightness to the taste. Linda told us that she had used both chicken fat and butter to give the pate a wonderful mouthfeel. If you don't like the mineral taste of liver, I don't know that this would've changed your mind, but it was an excellent version, nonetheless. The cherry tomatoes, Sugar Snaps, were from Bob's garden and were absolutely sublime. The combination of tomato flavor and natural sugars exploded in your mouth when you bit into one of these gems.

Next up was one of my all-time favorites, Nancy's gefilte fish with Bob's homemade prepared horseradish:


Nancy's gefilte fish is unusual because she uses a three fish blend, whitefish, pike, and carp, that she gets specially ground for her at Mr. Brisket. These three are ground up with some onion to form the ground fish that she then seasons and shapes into the oblong fish balls that she then gently poaches in fish stock. The fish balls on their own have a very clean, fresh fish flavor. It's only after you pair a bite of fish with some of the horseradish, however, that this dish really comes alive. The heat and the zip from the prepared horseradish surprisingly doesn't overpower the delicate flavor of the fish, but actually compliments it.

One of the nice treats about Nancy's holiday meals is that often times, simply prepared fruits or vegetables are laid out on platters and each person can customize the dish how he or she wants. I took some of the marvelous homegrown heirloom tomatoes and fresh basil from the platter and placed it on my plate:


At this point, I could have dressed it with some of the extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar available on the table to make a quick and easy vinaigrette or use one of two varieties of salts that were sitting on the table. I opted to use a simple sprinkling of volcanic black salt on my tomatoes. Besides the dramatic black color they added to the top of the tomatoes, it also added a certain mineral quality that regular sea salt didn't have. The tomatoes were at their peak of ripeness and it was all I could do just to close my eyes while I ate these to try and remember this taste until tomato season comes next year.

Our first course now complete, we had a ten minute respite during which time dirty plates were cleared from the table and the next course prepared. At the end of our break, everyone received a wonderful bowl of Nancy's chicken soup with a lone matzoh ball:


Before we sat down to dinner, Nancy had explained to us that because we were celebrating Rosh Hashanah and not Passover, leavening (in the form of baking power) had been used in the matzoh balls. While the end result looked the same as what I had experienced before, it wasn't until I took my spoon and cut into the ball that I realized the amazing difference that the leavening made in the final product. While I never considered Nancy's Passover matzoh balls to be that dense, the ones she prepared for Rosh Hashanah were ethereal and light. Even before I put the first bite into my mouth, I knew that I was in for a real treat. The chicken soup was also wonderfully rich and had a slight vegetal undercurrent to it. Lovingly referred to as "Jewish penicillin," this soup would've definitely warmed me on a cold day.

Our first two courses now underneath our belts, we took another small breather to get the most substantial course ready to serve. First on the table were some fantastic garden beets that had been roasted, sliced, and served cold with toasted almond slivers:


Growing up as a child, the only version of roasted beets I ever knew were the kind that came out of a can. As you can imagine, gentle reader, I absolutely abhorred the not only the taste of, but even the very thought of, roasted beets. It wasn't until several years ago that I tasted locally raised and roasted beets that I have learned to absolutely fall in love with them. When treated properly, the delicate beet flavor and the amazingly intense sweetness of a well-roasted beet is truly something to savor. Tonight's version ranked up there with the best that I have ever had.

Next onto the table was Linda's sweet potato and carrot tzimmes:


This dish was truly a revelation to me. Made with sweet potatoes, three kinds of organic carrots, locally grown Ohio honey from Lucy and topped with a spice blend containing ginger, coriander, Vietnamese cinnamon, and nutmeg, this immediately took me to Thanksgiving dinner. But this version was immensely better than my family's rather tired and dated candied yam casserole. This one exploded with flavor and the balance between the sweetness of the honey and the vibrance of the spices was spot on. I was so impressed with this dish, in fact, that I decided to have seconds and ask Linda for her recipe. I've already re-invented the dreaded Green Bean Casserole for my family's Thanksgiving dinner, perhaps it's time to give the Candied Yam Casserole a makeover as well.

The third item onto the table was a perennial favorite of mine, the potato kugel:


Made with grated potatoes, matzoh meal, eggs, oil, salt and pepper, this dish could be most closely associated with a bread pudding. Not that it was creamy, mind you, but the final product had a similar consistency to a bread-like product. While the previous samplings of this dish had some of Bob's chilies sprinkled through the kugel, this time it was sprinkled only on the top of the dish. While the texture of this version was identical to previous ones, I think my preference would be to have the chilies scattered through the kugel instead of just on top. But, that is just my preference, and certainly not meant to indicate that I didn't enjoy tonight's kugel just as much.

The fourth, and final, component to our third course was Linda's beef brisket in gravy:


This was a grass-fed brisket from Miller Farm that had been generously seasoned and then braised for many hours with an assortment of root vegetables in liquid. Once the brisket was completely cooked, the braised liquid and vegetables were run through Linda's Vita-Mix blender and fortified with some beef stock to make the wonderful gravy you see in the picture above. The beef was exceedingly tender and literally melted in your mouth. I did end up using my knife to eat the brisket; it wasn't to cut the meat, but to corral bits of beef, gravy, and potato kugel onto my fork before placing the morsel of savory goodness into my eagerly awaiting mouth.

When I finally managed to get a sampling of everything, my dinner plate runneth over with what Nancy described as "Jewish soul food":


I won't bother rehashing all of the fantastic flavors on that plate since I've already done so. I will say that even with two previous courses already in my stomach, I was surprised at how quickly and completely I cleaned my plate. I even had room for more of Linda's delicious tzimmes.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that we had some really fantastic wines with our dinner tonight. I didn't get a picture of all of them, but here are two that were rather well-liked, an Australian shiraz from Jacob's Creek and a cabernet sauvignon from Simi:


With the main meal out of the way now, we took a little bit longer break to completely clear off the table before serving the desserts. While I was feeling a bit full at that time, I decided to eat through the discomfort in order to enjoy the two wonderful desserts I had seen on the printed menu earlier in the evening. Our first dessert was made by Linda and consisted of a honey cake baked in a bundt pan:


She also made homemade apple sauce and her husband, Fred, whipped up some slightly sweetened heavy cream to be served alongside the cake:


I then managed to assemble all of the components onto my plate:


The honey cake was dense and moist. It tasted of honey and spices, but wasn't overpowering in either category. Mixed with a bit of the apple sauce and the freshly whipped cream, this was an excellent way to start off the dessert course. Honestly, had the other dessert not been so small, I would've happily ended my entire meal with the dressed-up honey cake.

Our final taste of the evening would be something that Nancy happened to come across while shopping at one of her favorite Cleveland locations, Casa Dolce (she has even written about having lunch at Casa Dolce). Some time ago she almost accidentally noticed that Casa Dolce was selling a traditional Jewish delicacy called Rainbow Cookies:


Made from marzipan, these cookies were something that Nancy remembered from her childhood but had never seen in Cleveland until now. She tried some back then and vowed to come back during Rosh Hashanah and place an order for her guests. I'm certainly glad she did. I could've walked by the case in Casa Dolce hundreds of times and never have guessed what these actually were.

Here was a shot of a single cookie, accentuating the many colorful layers:


I've had marzipan paste before (the principal ingredient being ground almonds) and know the flavor well. The surprising thing about this cookie, however, was how cake-like the texture felt. Had I not been told this was a cookie, I would've just assuming it was a multi-layer cake. The almond flavor was intense and clean and the combination of almond with the chocolate frosting on top was a nice way to finish the meal.

At this point, everyone was too full to move, so we sat at the table and lazily conversed about current events and politics for another forty-five minutes. Realizing that my aunt and I had a fairly lengthy drive ahead of us, I suggested that it might be time to depart. Still fairly full from the momentous meal, everyone arose from their chairs, thank you's and good-bye's were exchanged between guests and our gracious hosts, and we quickly found ourselves back outside in the cool, moon-lit air. On the way back to my grandmother's condominium, I asked my aunt if the meal had lived up to the hype of my previous post on Nancy and Bob's Passover Seder meal. She answered emphatically, "And then some!"

Shanah tovah.

Rosh Hashanah Part I

Shanah tovah.

About a month ago, I received an invitation from my good friend Nancy to join them in celebrating the Jewish holiday, Rosh Hashanah. Having attended the Passover Seder celebration at Nancy and Bob's house the last several years, I was both curious and anxious to see the similarities and differences between the two holidays. Like the Passover Seder, Rosh Hashanah is celebrated on two consecutive nights here in America. This year Nancy and Bob decided to pair up with another couple, Linda and Fred, to help distribute the work of creating these two amazing meals. As we got closer to the date, it turned out that Friday night's dinner would be for family and Saturday night's dinner would be for friends.

Besides being fortunate enough to attend such a marvelous celebration, I was also happy that I would be able to bring my aunt along as my guest. She had eagerly devoured my two posts on Nancy's Passover Seder earlier this year and was more than willing to drive in from out of town to experience this new holiday with me. She peppered me with questions at first, but having never been to a Rosh Hashanah dinner before, I was ill equipped to answer them. I assured her that the one thing she could expect was that whatever food was served would be at its best.

We arrived at around ten minutes until 7 PM and were warmly greeted by our hosts and the guests already present. Introductions were made and within mere moments, we were presented with a lovely glass of rose wine. I had asked Nancy ahead of time if it would be okay to blog about our dinner celebration and she graciously agreed to the request. I knew that she had been recovering from being sick earlier in the week as well as putting together a two night dinner extravaganza, so it only made sense to delegate picture taking to someone else to ease the burden a bit.

After processing all of the pre-dinner and dinner pictures, I decided that I had enough photographs to take a similar path to my Passover Seder entries and tell the story in two parts. This entry will describe the table before we all gathered and sat down for the meal. The next one will describe the ceremony involved as well as a better description of the foods we were served.

I set my wine glass down on the counter, pulled out my trusty G1 Google phone and began taking picture of Nancy's amazing table setting. Here was the view from the head of the table:


And a view from the opposite end:


Other than the two small candles at the head of the table, there weren't any additional ceremonial dishes or glasses on the table. I began walking around the table taking pictures of the dishes already present. First up was a wonderful bowl of chicken liver pate that Linda had brought:


This was garnished simply with some chopped parsley and smelled simply wonderful. Next up was a dish that was welcome at not just a holiday dinner, but any dinner, Nancy's amazing gefilte fish with carrots and flat-leaf parsley:


Just as Nancy and Bob are partners in life, they are also partners in food as well. As good as Nancy's gefilte fish is on it's own, with Bob's freshly grated and prepared horseradish, the pairing is almost magical:


We were all equally as blessed this year with the amazing bounty that came from Bob's garden. Here was a plate of garden fresh radishes and hot peppers:


The platter next to the radishes and peppers contained a myriad of garden fresh heirloom tomatoes dressed simply with some of the fresh basil picked right from the garden earlier that day:


From left to right, there were Early Pick, Black Krim, Costoluto Florentino, Azoychka, Sioux and Fireworks. Besides being a symphony of colors for the eyes, they were a symphony of flavors for the mouth, too.

In a bowl next to the tomato selection were some of Bob's garden cherry tomatoes, the Sugar Snaps:


I probably shouldn't have, but I couldn't resist popping one in my mouth after taking this photo. I bit into it and allowed the tomato liquor to coat my tongue. I was rewarded with an intensely sweet tomato flavor that one can only get from a locally grown tomato at this time of year. It certainly whetted my appetite for the meal to come.

This year, Linda decided to get two kinds of challah, a plain and a golden raisin, from a local establishment, On The Rise Bakery in Cleveland Heights. This was a shot of the golden raisin challah before it was sliced:


Challah is normally a braided bread, but during Rosh Hashanah, the challah is made into a round shape to symbolize both the unending circle of life as well as well as the crown of God's kingship over man.

Two plates of locally grown Honey Crisp apples had been cut up into wedges and placed at opposite ends of the table:


Apples and honey are traditionally served at the Rosh Hashanah meal to symbolize the hope for a sweet year. The honey we would be using came from a Northeast Ohio purveyor, OhioHoney (whose real name happens to be Lucy). She can be found every Saturday at the Shaker Square Farmer's Market and sells the most amazing variety of naturally produced honey and honey-related products.

During a Passover Seder meal, the Haggadah is sitting on the individual place settings. Tonight, the only item present on everyone's plate was a small ramekin of Lucy's wonderful elixir:


Having taken my fill of pictures, I discovered a piece of paper at the end of the table that detailed the vast number of courses to come. I thought I would share this menu with you, gentle reader, to whet your appetite for the meal that was about to begin shortly:


Truly a feast! If tonight's dinner was anything like Nancy's Passover Seder meal, I knew that it would be impossible to leave the table with anything less than a very full stomach and a completely sated palate. I returned to the kitchen both excited and satisfied, retrieved my glass of wine and rejoined the lively conversation while we waited for the remaining guest to arrive. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long. And fortunately, neither will you.

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner? (aka My Brush With Fame)

I recently had the opportunity to attend a wonderful dinner party that celebrated not only the classic American icon, Julia Child, but also the enormous breadth of work she had devoted to her myriad of cookbooks. The idea for the party was that the dinner would be divided into various categories: appetizers, soup, entree, sides, desserts, and breads. Then each attendee would volunteer to make and bring a favorite Julia Child recipe from one of the categories. Our host then coordinated the attendees' efforts so that there wasn't too much duplication.

Of course, when I saw that bread was one of the courses, I immediately volunteered my talents as a bread baker. Seeing that no one else volunteered to do breads, I convinced myself that it would be a good idea to bring two different kinds. The only problem was that I do not, now nor ever, own any of Julia Child's cookbooks. No problem. I simply meandered over to my local public library and checked through the books that they had on hand. Finally, I narrowed my search to "The Way To Cook". In it, I found Julia's recipes for both classic French bread and brioche. Knowing that it would be unwise and foolish to make two recipes out of a book I had never even cracked before, I decided instead to be "Julia-inspired" and substitute my own personal recipes for those two breads.

Knowing that I needed to produce some truly saliva-inducing breads, I decided to go for the version of brioche that is everything brioche is supposed to be: rich, decadent, and totally what Julia would do. That version, gentle reader, is called Rich Man's Brioche (or RMB for short). RMB is aptly named because of the amount of butter contained within it. While challah is enriched with lots of eggs, RMB is also enriched with one pound (yes, you read that correctly) of butter for each three pound batch of dough. What you end up with is a bread that is almost the same interior consistency of cake. It is tender and flavorful and literally just melts in your mouth.

There are only three additional ingredients that differentiate classic French bread from brioche; eggs, butter, and sugar. Aware that the sugar wouldn't make enough of a difference in the end product, I decided to bring out the big guns and make sure I had the best butter and eggs I could find. Having discovered the Riverbank General Store some time ago, I knew that they carried locally produced dairy and eggs from Hartzler Farms. Located right off of Rt. 21 between Canal Fulton and Massillon on Butterbridge Road, the quaint looking shop houses some of the area's finest meats, dairy, eggs, grains, and planet-friendly products. Here is a shot of the storefront:


The Hartzler Farm unsalted butter comes in a two-pound log and sells for $7.50. Although this sounds expensive, realize that most boxes of butter at the grocery store are about $3-$3.50 per pound, so this is right in line with most supermarkets. And although you can find the salted version of this butter in stores closer to where I live, the unsalted is much more elusive, but can be found consistently at Riverbank. The added advantage of driving to the Riverbank is that I could also get a dozen farm-fresh eggs with their marvelous bright orange yolks.

While I was up at the counter paying for my butter and eggs, I decided to splurge for a treat I had been longing to try, homemade ice cream made from the Hartzler Farm milk and cream. I have had their milk in the past and it has a wonderful "milky" flavor to it that I have never experienced with the supermarket variety. There were six flavors from which to choose and I decided to go with an old stand-by, strawberry:


This was the single scoop portion size and once I got everything out to my car, I dug in. To say that this was excellent was an understatement. It wasn't adventurous like Jeni's Ice Cream in Columbus, OH, but on a hot summer day, this cold treat really hit the spot. The flavor of strawberry was present from the first bite to the last and the creaminess of the ice cream was second-to-none. This ice cream needed no adornment of any kind; sprinkles and whipped cream need not apply.

After finishing my treat, I hopped back in my car and drove to my next stop, the kitchen where I'd be putting all of those wonderful ingredients to good use. While this entry isn't meant to be a bread recipe or tutorial like other entries I have posted in the past, I did want to give you a few before and after shots of the breads that I would be taking to the party. The brioche was actually a two-day bread. On day one, I made the starter (egg whites, flour, water, sugar, yeast). After it fermented for a couple of hours, I added the rest of the ingredients (egg yolks, flour, salt) and kneaded the dough for several more minutes. Only at that point do you add one pound of softened unsalted butter. At the end of that, the dough looked more like a batter than a bread dough. At that point, there was one crucial step that allowed you to handle the dough the next day, refrigeration.

The next morning, I took the dough out of the refrigerator and used it immediately to shape the brioche loaves into their final shapes. I knew that it was going to be sticky and a pain to handle, but was still preferable to working with the dough after it had warmed up. Once the dough was panned, I brushed the top with an egg wash and sat it in a warm spot to proof. Here was a shot of the RMB right before it went into the oven. Note that you give the loaves another egg wash (for a total of two) just before going into the oven:


And here are a couple of shots of the brioche after they have completely baked through:



The smell of the baking loaves was something that was hard to describe. A rich, heavy aroma filled the kitchen and adjoining rooms. You can actually smell the egg that is used in the egg wash. If Pavlov was a breadmaker, he certainly would've trained his dog to salivate at this smell rather than the thought of meat powder.

I also decided to go with a classic French bread. After mixing up both of my batches of brioche the night before, I made a starter for my French dough with a poolish. Equal amounts of flour and water with just a pinch of instant yeast were quickly stirred together, covered, and placed in a warm spot to ferment overnight. Since traditional French bread is only flour, water, yeast, and salt, the use of a starter was crucial to bread that actually tasted good. It also helped to extend the shelf-life of the finished bread as well, even though in real life, it didn't sit around for very long.

After panning up my second batch of brioche the next morning, I placed the poolish, the rest of my flour, water, yeast, and salt into my KitchenAid mixing bowl and mixed and kneaded the dough until it was satiny smooth and pliable. I then covered the bowl and placed it into a warm spot. This allowed the dough to go through a primary and secondary fermentation stage before turning it out onto the counter to shape and proof it. I decided that I would stick with the batard shape (as opposed to a baguette) because of the nice ratio of crust to crumb. After shaping, proofing, and baking, these were what came out of the oven:


Anyone who has successfully baked bread using a very hot oven to create a nice thick crust is familiar with the concept of the bread "singing" to you. For about five minutes after the bread came out of the oven, the cool air around the bread caused the hard crust to contract and hundreds of micro-fissures were formed. These micro-fissures made a cracking noise. It's very similar to listening to a bowl of puffed rice cereal when you first pour on the milk.

After letting the breads cool, I packed everything up, hopped in the shower, and headed over to the Julia dinner party, arriving precisely at the time specified in the invitation. Needless to say, I had an absolutely fabulous time at the party. We spent nearly four hours cooking, talking, laughing, and most importantly, eating. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that I would be able to take pictures, so I left my camera in my car.

We started out with a few appetizers and a wonderful cocktail, Kir Royale. Made with cassis liqueur and champagne, this was a tasty and refreshing way to start out the party. Once we finally sat down at the dinner table, we were presented with the most incredibly chilled and smooth soup, vichyssoise. For our entree, we enjoyed both a meat course, chicken fricassee, and a fish course, couilibiac of saumon (essentially salmon in puff pastry) served with a homemade hollandaise that I actually helped our hostess put together. Our sides consisted of a wonderful corn souffle, pan-roasted root vegetables, a chilled sliced potato salad, and creamy mashed potatoes. The French bread was served during this course as well. Thankfully, I garnered much praise for my version.

After our entree, we all decided to take a break in order to give ourselves time to digest as well as clean up the table a bit before returning for the cheese course and the dessert course. I retired to the patio along with a few other guests to enjoy the remnants of the wonderful gewurztraminer in my wine glass and enjoy the now sunless night air. After what seemed to be a lengthy period of time, we finally reassembled at the dining room table for a selection of four cheeses, fresh apricots and figs, and the rich, buttery brioche I had brought. Our final course, desserts, consisted of two flamed items, the first a wonderful Sour Cherry Tart Flamande and the second, a delightful tableside preparation of the classic French dessert, Crepes Suzette. Both were delicious, but the Crepes Suzette was truly exceptional.

At the conclusion of dessert, we retired from the table and adjourned ourselves to either the living room or the kitchen. Having talked, laughed, and eaten for the past three and half hours, we were all beginning to sink into a much anticipated food coma. After I profusely thanked my hostess for wonderful time I had just had at her Julia dinner, she presented me with some leftovers to take home with me. I bid adieu to the remaining guests and reminded them to take the extra brioche home with them for French toast the following morning. I climbed back into my car and drove home, completely sated both mentally and physically. The myriad of leftovers I consumed the next day acted as a reminder of the wonderful meal and fellowship I had experienced just the night before.

I highly encourage you to throw your own Julia-inspired party. Dividing the work up amongst your guests and making it a potluck dinner of sorts is a great way to take the stress out of having to make an entire dinner for twelve people. What better way to spend a Saturday evening than with great food, great friends, and great conversation?

If you'd like to read our hostess's account of what happened at the Julia dinner party, feel free to click on this link for her latest eNewsletter.