bootleggers and springrolls

Last night we had the great pleasure of attending the wedding of a dear family friend, Helen. The ceremony was lovely with excellent musical performances from each of her sons, but you can guess where I'm heading with this entry--the reception had stellar food and drinks! Held at the Minikahda club, the event started with drinks and hors d'oeuvres on the upstairs balcony. As we overlooked the gorgeous view of lake Calhoun, we sampled fresh springrolls, cheese and marmalade canapes, avocado toasts, springrolls, cheesetoasts, and some more springrolls. When Chris ordered a Macallan from the bar he was given a juice glass full--what a way to start the evening! The gin and tonics, rum and cokes, and glasses of wine were free-flowing, but the star of the veranda was the bootlegger. I never got a definition of the bootlegger that would satisfy and engineer, but what I gathered in my scientific research was that it included something along the lines of gin, vodka, soda, lemon juice, and mint. It's like a mojito crossed with a long island iced tea and it is dangerously delicious. My mother wasn't sure what she thought of the bootlegger so she had to sample several of them to decide!

People were noticeably hesitant when told to go back inside and find their seats for dinner--why would we want to lose our view or place at the bar?! But grudgingly we went and were pleasantly surprised by the immediate wine service, not to mention places at a table with fun friends and seats near the band. The dinner started with a beautiful homegrown tomato salad with bocconcini (tiny balls of fresh mozzarella), basil oil, shaved radishes, and microgreens with a flavor of anise. It was honestly beautiful, and a perfect combination. I wonder just what homegrown meant, since I didn't see a garden on site with enough tomato plants to feed 200 person banquets every couple nights. I assume they meant local, and I love that concept, though unfortunately it was a bit early in the year for the multi-colored fruit, considering what a cool tomato season we've had so far. The most fun thing on the plate was a tiny, dark green, half-orb with white spots, which I first assumed was just a variety of heirloom tomato I'd never seen before, but it turned out to be a crisp cucumber! I was fastidious about getting a taste of each element on the plate in every bite, and yet I still managed to clean my plate first among my table-mates.

The main dish came next and included a generous halibut fillet encrusted with scallops and lightly drizzled with beurre blanc, seated next to green and yellow beans with baby carrots (the real baby carrots, not just the lathed down excuse for baby carrots found in a pre-packaged bag), and a potato gratin wrapped in brick pastry and topped with some sweet cooked tomatoes. I couldn't remember what brick pastry was when I first read the menu card, but it's much like phyllo--light and flaky and wonderfully crisp when cooked with the right amount of butter! The food was attractive and tasty if a bit overdone and underseasoned. It must be hard to manage perfection at such a high level for such a crowd, though! I don't mean to complain either--I managed to suffer through the plate and even found room for a slice of crusty seeded bread with butter--yum!

Dessert included a small triangle of flourless chocolate cake and a martini class full of fresh berries with lemon curd. It was a great crowdpleaser--even for my mother who stubbornly refuses to like, or even eat, chocolate. I even brought her to Switzerland twice and she won't convert. I know, I don't understand it either. But she felt included in the dessert even if she passed the cake to my dad. She made up for the lack in calorie consumption from cake by imbibing several glasses of champagne instead. Who wouldn't when they serve Veuve Clicquot to everyone!

The party was a hit. We all had a blast, though some maybe aren't enjoying themselves as much today! I always love weddings. And I laughed especially hard when the priest made a joke about what three things a woman sees as she first steps into the church--the aisle, the alter, and him. Not to be confused with the thought "I'll alter him". After sharing in such a beautiful event, I don't think Helen would alter a thing.

long time no sea

We did return from Australia, so why have I disappeared again? Well after we first returned I can safely blame Ella. You simply can't fool a baby into a time change. Especially not a 15 hour time change. She thought it would be fun to stay up eating and playing until after 2 am for days on end, and there was just no convincing her that it would be much more fun to sleep! That really through a wrench into the works. Then we were babysitting for a friend of the family's three kids for a week. That was a fun gig, but it meant being away from home for another week, only two days after we returned. 4th of July was thrown in there too. Then I immediately started teaching a cooking class, which was an absolute blast, but utterly exhausting.

I've been trying to get a cooking class for teens going for years and first I had trouble figuring out exactly how and where I wanted to do it. Then when I decided I wanted to go the community ed route I had trouble convincing people that food actually costs a fair amount of money. This is Minnesota people, food doesn't just grow on trees--at least not most of the year! Then along came West Suburban Summer Schools, the independent school district #287 summer school program for students who qualify for gifted and talented services. I gave it another try and luckily found a closet foodie in the administrative position. Teen Cuisine was finally born! All I had to do was write a curriculum and recipes! Yikes.

I'm not that bad at writing recipes, but I tend to avoid it. It's probably because I'm not a great recipe follower. I certainly can follow one--I know the rules and all--I just generally choose not to. I even used to think I couldn't bake. I didn't like it at all because it meant following recipes. You mess up the measurements in a batch of brownies and you could wind up with hockey pucks--no thanks. But one of the most valuable lessons I learned in culinary school was from the infamous Chef Michelle Gayer of the Salty Tart. She taught me the secret of flavor infusions. They are the answer to personalizing recipes in the pastry kitchen without altering a formula that works. Woohoo! I now LOVE baking. But I digress, we'll return to pastries later.

I decided that there was no way a student could learn how to make real food in the kitchen without using real knives. That is a terrifying thought to anyone who has ever worked in a public school, particularly at the middle school level. We are trained to think of knives in the hands of 8th graders as a dangerous thing, and for good reason I'd say, but I was adamant that they be allowed in my class. The only problem was that the kitchen classroom that we were using didn't seem to have any. Okay, I don't mind bringing mine from home, but that just adds more liability concerns. Here is where the support, or ignorance, of my supervisors definitely came in handy. We just got parents to sign waivers and away we cut! There are few greater ways to show your trust in a 13 year old than to hand them a recipe, a bag of groceries, and a 12 inch Santoku. It truly paid off too. I was thoroughly impressed with their excitement and enthusiasm as well as their quick grasp of new skills. We made about 25 recipes during the week long class, some multiple times, and they became quite fluent throughout the process.

I did learn about a weakness of mine, though. I have become intolerant of people who refuse to taste new foods. I know I used to do that myself, before I became a born-again-eater, and I cringe at the thought. I must now officially apologize to anyone reading this who may have once cooked food for me that I refused to eat, complained about, or made a face at. Why didn't you just throw me out? It is a repulsive personality characteristic that I have a very tough time accepting in people--including my past self. This is not to say that I like all foods equally. Personally I think broccoli only redeems is existence through its nutritional value. Liver, excepting foie grois, tastes just like sucking on a cut finger or a penny. I just don't fancy that metallic quality. But at least I've tried them! I can say these things through experience. And I can also safely say that I will graciously accept them if they are served to me again. Cooking is about sharing love. It is about giving and accepting personal gestures. It is about making people feel good. I hope I got that across in my class. And I hope I get a chance to teach it again--it's the best way to learn.

Here's a favorite recipe of mine--just to share some love with my readers. Semifreddo means "half cold" in Italian and is a simple ice cream that requires no churning. You can find gazillions of different recipes for it, but this is one of my favorites, as well as one of the simplest. Sabayonne is a traditional French dessert--a warm custard, which forms the base of this semifreddo. Any alcohol can be used, so don't be afraid--get creative!

Sabayonne Semifreddo

Serves 4-5

Ingredients:

2 egg yolks

2 oz. alcohol, such as white wine, champagne, marsala, etc.

2 oz. sugar

1 pint heavy cream

Directions:

Over low heat, or a simmering pot of water, whisk together egg yolks, alcohol, and sugar until they form a custard (the mixture should foam and expand, then thicken until it coats the back of a wooden spoon). Be careful not to let the eggs scramble, or curdle along the edges of the bowl. This is your sabayonne. Meanwhile, whip cream until it forms soft peaks. Fold together sabayonne and whipped cream. Transfer to individual molds and freeze until stiff (depending on your containers and the freezer, this part could take anywhere from 45 minutes to overnight). I suggest trying it on yourself before you make it for guests, so you can you make sure it's safe! When you do serve it, throw on some fresh berries--something we do manage to grow very well here in Minnesota--and enjoy!

Even Ella loves ice cream--and sharing it!

Love, Emily