Cooking and Gadgets

My Kingdom for Some Bread

atelier-des-chefs I was recently invited to join a Master Class in bread making at the L’Atelier des Chefs school in London. It is really a wonderful concept – a wide variety of classes are guided by expert chefs who have top restaurant experience and a great desire for teaching and sharing their knowledge. They have two locations in London - Oxford Circus and St Paul’s - and more in France and Belgium. Offering diverse cuisines and skill levels six days a week, it’s easy to find one that’s right for you. Prices range from just £15 (for their signature Cook, Eat & Run class which promises to teach you to cook a delicious main course in just 30 minutes) to £144 for their four hour Master Class.

My class was held on a sunny Saturday afternoon at the St Paul’s location, and I was joined by six other eager-to-learn students. It was an eclectic bunch, all ages with mostly beginner to intermediate cooking skills. There was a mother and her teenage son, who seemed less than thrilled to be there; a handsome bearded fellow from the northeastern part of France; two baby boomer types, one woman eager, the other somewhat timid; and a hip twenty-something guy, there on his third visit who shared rave reviews about his previous experiences. We were greeted warmly by the receptionist who presented us with new aprons (to keep as a souvenir) and led us to our classroom. The courses are conducted in a bright state-of-the-art kitchen with a large stainless steel work station which we gathered around to meet our instructor, Chef Daniel Stevens. Initially I had visions of Hell's Kitchen with some fire breathing Gordon Ramsey type instructor who would bark orders and humiliate us for any culinary mistakes

My First Cookbook

My first cookbook at the ripe old age of 3 was the Betty Crocker's Cookbook for Boys and Girls, a first edition. We had a little people size table with four chairs, a miniature china dish set, silverplate flatware and a nice tablecloth with candlestick and a vase. In my mother's kitchen we both had a set of children's size Revere Ware pots and pans along with a set of small size baking pans. It must have been my Mother's Suzuki method of teaching us how to cook and dine.

I enjoyed cooking from this book because it was my first but I didn't like all the recipes that called for package mixes. So, after a deep conversation with my Mom about you can't call it cooking if you open up a package she agreed to get me The Joy of Cooking. Butterscotch brownies and miniature pies were my specialty...

The Business of Eggs

eggman Four years ago, Roy and I (newly besotted), rented a little plot of land on a Vineyard farm. We grew vegetables and sold them at the farm’s roadside stand. Living in a tiny apartment over a general store, we shuttled back and forth to tend our plot.

That fall, our friend Joannie tracked us down one day, took us by the hand, and led us to a little farm house on two acres of land. Right on the spot, she introduced us to the owners and insisted that they rent the farm house to us. I’m not sure if the owners knew what hit them, but in about an hour, we had all shaken hands and Roy and I were packing up the apartment. Our new landlords said, “Sure, grow whatever you want here.”

We moved into the little (uninsulated) 1895 farm house a few weeks later, and by spring we were turning over the soil and putting up the fences for our first vegetable plot. Roy built a little farm stand, and we stuck a sign out by the road. One summer, then two summers went by.

We got 8 laying hens, and then 50 more. The garden doubled in size, and we built a hoop house. We made a tiny bit of money off our tiny farmette, keeping the farm stand open almost every day while writing books and building houses (our real jobs), too.

My First Cookbook - A Treasury Of Great Recipes

Given my love of sugar and horror, its no surprise that the first cookbook I used was by Mary and Vincent Price. It was called A Treasury of Great Recipes. Long before you had the countless husband and wife teams traveling and writing about the places they've eaten, you had Mary and Vincent Price, of all people, with photographs and anecdotes told in what is clearly Price's voice. Charming and funny, he was a wonderful raconteur and gourmand.

The first thing I made from that cookbook was an Apricot Mousse. My mother would make it and put it in these adorable little ceramic pots with lids on them and called them pot de crème. That's why, when I went to look up the recipe, I though I'd hallucinated the whole thing because that wasn’t how it was categorized in the cookbook. But it enabled me to take a walk down cookbook memory lane. It was bittersweet to gaze upon my dusty volumes of Gourmet's compendiums. So sad. But, I digress.

Orange Blossom Sugar

Sometimes it’s the tiny little things in life that bring the most joy.

I always get so excited when my trees start waking up from months of dormancy. Even though our orange tree (known forever as "Granny’s  orange tree") never really loses its deep green leaves, it has its own way of letting you know that it’s kicking into high gear. Every year  around this time buds begin to appear, and within a day or two these creamy, supple pods begin to open up into beautiful little flowers. And  even if you were inclined to bury your head in the sand and ignore the  seasonal shift, orange trees let you know their intentions by perfuming  the entire yard with a heady, intoxicating fragrance of orange  blossoms.

It’s literally the most soothing and luxurious smell I can  think of and far from the tart, acidy flavor of the fruit (if I’m  comparing smells and tastes, mind you). It’s much closer to honeysuckle  than orange. And if the scent drives me crazy in the best of ways, I  can only wonder what it does to bees!

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